Pathfinder

1

Through the music in my ears I heard the bus ding and the announcer say my stop was up next. Thankfully I actually heard it today; I had missed my stop one to many times because I was jamming out to my music a little too hard. I pressed the button to request a stop and stood up, holding on to keep my balance, as the bus slowed to a halt. The doors opened and I jumped out onto the sidewalk, calling back a thank you to the driver, as I tried to always do. I strolled down the street to my apartment, grooving along as my music switched to one of my favorite songs, one that always made me feel upbeat and great. "You know, today was a pretty great day", I thought to myself.

I pulled out my earbuds and let the song fill my room, dancing around as I grabbed a snack bar from the pantry and hopped onto my bed to surf the spectrum of social apps on my phone. As usual I found myself getting excited about the content of amazing people I would never get to meet. I have tried to dive in to the whole social media world myself with a few videos and some attempted interaction with people but nothing has really gone anywhere.

I shouldn't really be surprised though, I'm not really attractive and there's nothing to really draw people to what I make or anything I have to say. "Stop that", the thought bounces around in my head. I promised myself I would do better about talking myself down. As I scrolled through my subscription feed, trying to figure out what to watch first, I noticed the light in my room start to flicker. I hopped out of bed and flicked the switch to turn the light off, hoping I could use the classing universal off-and-on technology fix, but to my surprise the light didn't turn off. I flipped the switch back and forth a few more times, but nothing changed. The light stayed on and kept flickering. It didn't seem to follow any pattern but would dim or go out at random intervals. After about 30 seconds of watching the light it started to blink on and off rapidly, and my whole room seemed to go out of focus. Then, suddenly, I felt like I was being shoved, as if a huge gust of wind had blown me from behind. I stumbled forward and fell to my hands and knees.

When my hands hit the ground, though, they did not meet the carpet of my room. Instead my fingers dug into a blanket of wet grass. I jumped up in confusion, wiping my hands on my shirt, and looked around. I surveyed my surroundings and found myself to be in a large open field, at the edge of a dense forest. Dew glistened across the tall blades of grass, illuminated by the light of a full moon in the sky. I felt the chill of a subtle breeze shudder past. Off to my left, I saw an opening in the trees and clear evidence of a path leading into the woods. I know I should have been scared and confused as to what had just occurred, but honestly I was overwhelmed by a sense of wonder and curiosity.

Deciding entering a dark forest at night was probably not in my best interest, I wandered away from the tree line into the field. Other than the light of the moon, I saw no evidence of any other glow on the horizon. It was actually a really peaceful setting, and it was a nice change to be able to see the stars shining so brightly. I had been spending my summer in the heart of the city so seeing more than a few stars was a treat. Being the analytic I am, I scanned the sky for constellations I recognized and was able to clearly make out the big dipper. "At least I know I'm still on Earth," I mused. That was one thing to check off the questions list.

Continuing to stare upwards, trying to pick out the North Star and get a sense of direction, I heard sharp crack from in front of me. I snapped my head down, suddenly very alert, but didn't see much of anything. There was a faint shimmer in the air about 10 feet away, but I couldn't quite figure out what was happening there. Then, just in front of the shimmer, two patches of grass began to rustle. Slowly two jet black fox-looking things emerged from the blades. Their eyes were a striking silver and wisps of what looked like dense black smoke rolled off their fur.

I maintained eye contact with the creatures as I mentally evaluated my options. The creatures seemed tensed to pounce at any moment. I knew the open field was far too exposed; I doubted I could outrun them. I was able to recall two things about encounters with wild animals. One, I knew you were always supposed to look at them, because to turn away was a sign of weakness and an invitation to dinner. I also remembered that a common piece of advice was to make yourself look as big and scary as possible to try and scare them off. So, in the fashion of someone intimately acquainted with nature, I held up my arms, curled my fingers into claws, and yelled, "RAWR." Now I don't know about you but I thought I was truly embodying the spirit of the wild. Tarzan should have been jealous. Apparently the foxes (let's just go with that) didn't think so. They did, quite literally, nothing.