*
After five minutes of deep, laboured breathing, he began to calm down. He had made it, but he was still unsure of what exactly he had made it to. Looking around at his green sanctuary, his heart was relieved of some of its merriment. Life here was not immune to the effects of the miasma, and Barsch observed that several trees had already begun to crack and wither. The grass, while predominantly green, had large patches of black and grey, signalling the beginning of the end. Cautiously, he began to wander forth, his eyes searching for, and finding, more signs of decay. Given two or perhaps three years, this verdant grove would become deathly silent, a mirror image of the grey hill he had woken up on.
As he wandered further in, a strange -although not unwelcome- feeling overtook him. The weariness and gloom was wiped from his mind, replaced by optimism and purpose. He had been brought here, by fate or luck, for a reason. With that thought driving him, he quickened his pace and lifted his gaze from the floor to the horizon. He stripped his make-shift filter from his face, wanting to breathe in the sweet air of the grove without barrier or hindrance. His limbs felt weightless, and he even contemplated grasping a nearby branch to keep from floating away. Even the feeling of loneliness, the one constant he had carried over from his pre-Great Sleep days, had vanished.
For all he knew, it had been centuries since he last walked upon the world, but this thought died in the face of his inexplicably positive mood. And although he knew the likelihood of finding another human was slim, something told him that everything would work out for the best.
With his eyes now facing forward, he was able to see a distant break in the trees. There, just a few dozen feet away, was an opening, a place in which he could catch up with his runaway thoughts and rest his tired husk. Moving towards the glade, another strange feeling overcame him, although this was decidedly different. It was a feeling of destiny, of Fate stepping into the world and grabbing hold of him, dragging him towards his unavoidable future. Whether that future would bring him ruin or salvation, however, was something he would just have to wait for.
If another person had been in the wood that day, they would have seen a young man or an old child, -depending on the viewer’s perspective- with untameable, midnight black hair and eyes that were forever caught between blue and green. His body was muscular, but lean, a result of the burdens of living in a dying world. He was wearing a black podsuit, with blue lines etched into the seams, providing a welcome break from the monochromic suit. He was tall for his age, but had always stooped in order to deter attention.
In short, he was almost completely unremarkable for someone living before the Great Sleep, however, in this world seemingly devoid of any other humans, his was a unique existence.
Awakening Page 6