He set off, his injured leg protesting with every step. The initial adrenaline rush had faded, leaving him exhausted and in pain. Each jolt shot a wave of agony through him, and he limped badly, feeling like a wounded animal separated from the herd. "On the bright side, at least I’m not the main course for a hungry creature," he muttered bitterly to himself as hunger gnawed at his stomach, a hollow ache that mirrored the emptiness in his understanding.

  He hadn't eaten since the charity event, and the meagre meal he'd had felt like a lifetime ago. He needed food, water, and shelter, and he needed to find them soon. But the most pressing concern was his leg. The goblin's bite throbbed, the wound inflamed and festering. He'd tried to clean it best he could with water from a stream, but the angry redness surrounding it threatened to spread.

  He assessed his ruined clothes, ripped and torn from the fight. It was a sorry sight, but amidst the damage, an idea sparked. Using a sharp-edged rock, he managed to tear strips of fabric from what remained of his shirt and trousers, creating makeshift bandages. "Not quite the first aid kit I would have preferred, but beggars can’t be choosers..." he grimaced. It was rough and far from ideal, but it would have to do to try and stem the bleeding and protect the wound from further contamination.

  He walked for what felt like hours, the forest stretching endlessly around him. The ethereal glow of the alien flora provided a dim, otherworldly light. "It's not the worst backdrop for a horror movie, just me, some never seen before plants, and impending doom," he grumbled, forcing himself onward.

  As the day wore on, the pain in his leg intensified, each step a sharp reminder of his deteriorating state. "If I were a stock, I’d be crashing right about now," he mused, trying to keep his mind occupied. He needed to rest, to find a place to treat his wound before it became debilitating. The swelling was beginning to darken, a sickening shade of yellow and green spreading outwards.

  "Great. Just what I need, a festering wound and a potential date with a fever." He knew he couldn’t keep walking; he needed to look for a new option.

  Finally, as the light began to fade, he spotted a large, hollowed tree. Its trunk was wide enough to offer some shelter. He collapsed at its base, leaning against the rough bark, exhausted and in pain. "This is definitely not the cozy treehouse I envisioned as a kid," he sighed, feeling disappointment wash over him.

  Reaching into his pack, he retrieved the leaf he'd taken earlier, the one that had released the citrusy scent. He remembered how it had felt in his hand, the way it had seemed to absorb the light. An idea sparked, one fuelled by desperate hope.

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  He brought the leaf to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent was faint but distinct. Citrus. "If only I had a lab to test this," he chuckled weakly, then grimaced as pain shot through his leg. "Nope, just me and my wild theories."

  He rubbed the leaf between his fingers, just as he had done earlier. The citrusy scent intensified. He noticed something else. a swarm of tiny insects, drawn to the aroma, landing on the leaf and eagerly sipping the clear liquid seeping out. They were small, almost microscopic, but he could see them, their tiny bodies shimmering in the fading light.

  And then he saw it. Following their tiny traces, the insects became more energetic after drinking the liquid, their movements quickening as they flew off, seemingly revitalized. "Great, so it’s a power-up for bugs. What’s next?" he thought. "Dare I hope for a healing potion? I really need to stop watching fantasy movies."

  A hypothesis formed in his mind, a desperate gamble based on fragmented memory and observations. Could this leaf, with its citrusy scent and effect on the insects, help his festering wound?

  He had nothing else. No medicine, no first aid kit, no knowledge of this world's healing practices. "It’s now or never, Shard."

  With renewed determination, he gathered more leaves, ignoring his throbbing leg as he worked. Relaxing briefly, he found a flat stone and began to crush the leaves, using a branch as his makeshift pestle. The scent intensified, filling the air with an invigorating aroma.

  He worked for what felt like an hour, hands aching, leg throbbing. But finally, he had a small pile of crushed leaves, a pulpy mass glistening with the plant's juices. "I hope this works," he muttered under his breath.

  Taking a deep breath, he removed the makeshift bandage from his leg. The wound looked worse than he'd feared. It was red and swollen, the edges ragged and oozing pus, sickly yellow-green that made his stomach turn.

  With a grimace, he applied the crushed leaves to the wound. The initial sensation was a stinging, burning pain, worse than the bite itself. "Well, that’s pleasant," he grimaced, fighting back the urge to cry out.

  Slowly, the burning pain subsided, replaced by a strange coolness. He watched, mesmerized, as the redness around the wound seemed to recede, the swelling reducing slightly. "Okay, if this actually helps, I may have to start a new career as a forest healer."

  He carefully wrapped the wound with the remaining crushed leaves and secured it with the strips of cloth he had ripped from his ruined clothes. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do.

  Exhaustion finally overtook him, the adrenaline and exertion of the day catching up to him. His eyelids felt heavy, his body weak. He leaned back against the tree, head lolling to the side, half-hoping he wouldn’t wake up to a worse nightmare.

  As darkness closed in, he wondered if he would ever see the dawn. He had survived his first day in this strange, beautiful, dangerous world. But he knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that the challenges had only just begun. His journey was far from over. He drifted off to sleep, comforted only by the lingering image of the revitalized insects and the faint, citrusy scent of the leaves, mingling with the chaos of his thoughts.