A Chance Meeting
Jack didn’t know why he had come out this far into the woods all alone when there was no snow to deliver to it. He figured he might just be pouting that winter was almost at a close, and wanted to sit and throw a tantrum and see if the spirit of spring gave in and let him have winter a little longer, but that had never actually worked before. He couldn’t see why it would work now, or why he’d come out here for that reason, but he knew he was stupid enough to do something like that.
Something flew at Jack, barely missing his face by inches. He spun around, but couldn’t locate his assailant. He shivered and continued on, albeit at a faster pace than before, just in case whatever it had been came back for a second try.
A moment later, Jack felt a rock smack him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground, his staff sliding out of his reach. He tried to reach out and grab it, but the rustling in the bushes behind him told him that whatever crazy thing was after him was right behind him, and he didn’t have time to grab his staff, so he just leapt up and took off running through the woods.
This was great. This was just great. Without his staff, he was relatively powerless. He couldn’t even fly to get away from whoever or whatever was after him, so he just had to hope he was light enough on his feet and fast enough to have them not be able to follow him to who knew where. And that he’d be able to go back and find his staff later, which he hoped whoever-it-was hadn’t found for themselves.
Too late, Jack realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and he tripped and fell into a random pit that had been hidden from view by a covering of grass. He scrambled to his feet and peered way overhead at the point of sunlight shining down into the pit, but it didn’t reveal much.
He heard the footsteps of whatever pass over him and fade in the distance, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever that was, Jack had lost them, but now he had to find a way to get out of here, if that was possible without flying out.
He felt along the sides of the pit, looking for tree roots or rocks that jutted out from the side, and whenever he found something that might be able to be used as a hand hold or a foot hold, he launched himself up on it and tried to climb out, only to fall back down to the bottom every time. He wasn’t used to climbing, and the rocks cut into his bare feet, making them bloody.
This was looking to be an impossible situation, but he had to get out somehow. The only question was, how?