Great Bear Wilderness I made it all look painless,

Stark’s eyes flickered open, the world around him blurry and strange, as if painted in washed-out shades he didn’t recognize. The air was thick, carrying scents he couldn’t place—damp moss, cold stone, hints of pine and something else unknown lurking beneath. For a moment, he lay still, breaths ragged as his senses came slowly to life, his body stiff and aching as though it bore the weight of battles fought across lifetimes.

He tried to summon a memory, any memory, but all he found were fragments: the flash of teeth, snarls in the night, a glimpse of a face that slipped away the moment he reached for it. There was only the ache—deep and unforgiving, a silent reminder of something... cold. He couldn't recall what it was, but the hole it left behind was hollow and unyielding. It was no good.

With a low, frustrated huff, he pushed himself to his paws, his muscles protesting the movement, the pain lancing through his limbs sharp enough to pull his lips back in a silent snarl. The unfamiliar earth beneath his paws was cold, and he gave himself a brisk shake, wincing as another bolt of pain shot through his form. He took a steadying breath, feeling the rawness in his chest, a pulse of soreness that reminded him he was alive, if nothing else.

Keep going, he told himself, jaw set, his gaze steeling as he glanced around at this unknown land. There was no sense in staying put, no comfort in wallowing in the emptiness left where his memories should be. Perhaps something out there -- in the vast forest staring back at him -- could remind him of what was lost.