Chapter 9: The Long Walk
As he walked, he reminisced on his time at the orphanage. Overall, he was very bitter that he was not treated respectfully, but rather as an outcast who was different, and therefore inferior to the others. He knew, however, that he was really vastly superior to the rest in that he was smarter and that his intelligence threatened them.  He resented the fact that he was an outcast, but knew it had probably been better for his development that he was. It allowed him to focus on his studies and mental sharpness.  He occupied himself with these musings as he walked, and when he returned from the intricate labyrinth of his mind to the present, he realized that the sun was about to set. Then the weight of exhaustion that he had miraculously eluded up to this point hit him like a punch in the stomach. He was drenched in sweat and had blisters on his feet. He was sunburned all over and his back was aching dreadfully from carrying his heavy pack. He was also ravaged by an extreme thirst. He pulled out his flask of water and began gulping down as much as he could swallow.  He finished almost half of the canteen in a few swigs and, though he was still thirsty, knew that he had to conserve his water if he wanted to make it to the quarry. He had at least another 10 miles to go, nearly a full day’s march. 
Knowing that finding shelter for the night was priority number one, Zach began looking for a suitable place to set up a makeshift tent. He walked for another half an hour until the sun was just setting over the horizon and stopped.  He looked out and saw two figures silhouetted against the setting sun. They were tall and wearing what appeared to be long black cloaks, and were walking briskly across the plain. Well, not so much walking as gliding, he thought to himself. They didn’t appear to be taking any steps at all. He almost called out but something stopped him. A little voice in his head was screaming danger, danger. He began breathing rapidly and a chill went down his spine. All of a sudden the figures came to a stop and abruptly turned towards him. He couldn’t see their faces from so far away but something told him they had spotted him.
He flattened himself to the ground instinctively, petrified with fear. Though he had no idea why or how he knew, he could feel that he was in mortal danger.  He crawled over to a ditch by the side of the road.  Jumping in, he flattened himself down and pressed himself against a wall. After a few minutes, he mustered up the courage to peer out over the edge. The figures were gone. But that wasn’t possible. They had been 100 yards away with no trees or topography of note around for miles. He looked more closely but the sun was beginning to set and he couldn’t see much with the coming twilight. Deciding he wasn’t going to find anything and that the ditch was probably as good a place as he was going to find to spend the night, he bunkered down in the hole.  
Chapter 10: The Dream
Zachary awoke stiff and cold, before dawn. He hadn’t slept much out of fear of the figures he had seen. He felt like he had sand in his eyes, and rubbed them repeatedly. Supposing it was just from a lack of sleep, he grabbed a biscuit from his pack and sat on the edge of the ditch.  Wrapped up in a blanket and nibbling on his biscuit, he sniffled and looked out over the plains. The sun was starting to create a pink halo over the horizon and he could just begin to make out hazy objects in the distance. What little sleep he had gotten the night before was plagued by vicious nightmares, so it didn’t last.  The one that he remembered most clearly was one different than the dream he had had every night for the past seventeen years of his life.  He was lying at the bottom of a deep, dark pit. He felt acutely aware of all of his surroundings, as if his senses had been enhanced somehow, and felt sharp pain emanating from four places in his body. 
He tried to get up, but couldn’t. Frustrated, he tried again in futility. The night was cold and dark, and all he could distinguish was the sky full of stars twinkling down on him.  He felt an immense sense of fatigue falling over him, threatening to pull him under, but he knew that he could not let this happen in order to avoid the risk of having his life slip away.  Feeling something wet, he looked down and saw that his fur was discolored due to being soaked and matted by blood. Wait, he didn’t have fur, he realized with a jolt. He yelled, and started at the sound coming out of his mouth. It was not a yell, but a roar. What if someone hears me, he thought. Would they shoot me or come help me. It was a risk he couldn’t take, but one he might have to.  Eyes beginning to adjust to the dark, he looked around and saw that he was at the bottom of a pit that opened gradually up to ground level, and that there were a few abandoned mining carts at the bottom with him.
He must be in the quarry, he thought to himself. Was it possible that the lion was transmitting its thoughts and visions to his brain? He roared again, and, feeling an immense and powerful agony coming from his stomach and shoulder, he stood shakily. Somehow he knew that he had to move, and quickly, but he wasn’t sure how. He stumbled over to the edge of the quarry floor and slumped against the wall. Just then, he smelled something. It was strange, like the scent a dead animal gives off mixed with the scent of a fresh rose.  Unlike anything he had ever smelled before, it was a mixture of sickly and sweet that drove him almost to tears. Again, he innately knew somehow that this meant danger.
Something was coming to get him, and he had to hide fast.  He slumped up against the quarry wall, breathing heavily, and began looking for a place to hide. Meanwhile, the scent was getting stronger and he could feel a cold wind stirring.  For the first time, he felt a cold pit of fear and despair begin to engulf his stomach.  He began breathing quickly, but controlled his emotions almost immediately.  Knowing that he had to at least get moving, he sunk his claws into the side of the quarry wall and pulled himself upwards, growling as he did so. The strain on his wounded shoulder was immense. Almost passing out due to pain and dehydration, he managed to pull himself a few feet up the wall, but began sinking back down.  He slumped against the wall at the bottom and took ten deep breaths. You can do this, he told himself. Remain calm and you can do this. You have always escaped before; this time is no different.
But it was different. He was wounded and probably only hours away from a natural death. That is, if whatever was out there didn’t get him first. He had lost a lot of blood and hadn’t had anything to drink in over 36 hours. He wondered whether this was the end as his body was enveloped by the cold of night.
Chapter 11: Lost
Zachary finished his biscuit and stretched out, moaning softly. His back was aching terribly and he felt he couldn’t survive another night sleeping, or rather not sleeping, like that.  Pulling his blanket off of him, which was now coated with a thick layer of dust, he shook it off a few times. Then he put in his pack, but it wouldn’t fit. He kicked his pack, annoyed that he couldn’t figure out what any of this meant. He felt himself beginning to become angry, so he did what Mr. Goodings had always told him to do. He took a step back from the world. 
Just breathe, he thought to himself.  In, hold. Out, hold. In, hold. Out, hold. He did this ten times, holding each for ten seconds.  Remember what Mr. Goodings had always said, the old bat. Though he was a fool, Zach thought to himself, he did happen to be right about this one thing. Breathing exercises always prevented him from getting too angry. When he focused on his breathing and let his anger take the backburner for a second, he found that he could control it. 
Finally finishing after what seemed like an eternity (he could usually get his emotions under check after 4 or 5 breaths now with years and years of practice, but always did the full ten out of habit), he opened his eyes and stared out at the rising sun.  He could still see the twinkling stars in the sky above the rising sun. It was a beautiful and majestic portrayal of the power of nature, but nothing compared to what he was going to uncover in the coming days. 
He walked over to his pack and picked it up, wondering why he was even pursuing this mysterious lion. But he knew, innately, that it was important. He knew that he had to do this, that it held some fundamental clue to unlocking the mystery of his birth and parents, as well as the one of the dreams he had been having and perhaps something much, much larger.  Withdrawing the contents of his pack, he wished to himself that he had been born into more endearing circumstances. He wished that his parents hadn’t abandoned him. He wished that he wasn’t such an outcast, even while living among other outcasts at an orphanage.  But he knew that he couldn’t change any of these things. He had to accept the fact that he was where he was and had to worry about the present moment, because he had plenty to worry about, as he was just beginning to discover.
He looked into his pack and realized that his water canteen had been leaking and it was well over three-quarters empty now. He had plenty of food, but that would do him no good if he died of thirst with week’s worth of food left over. It would just leave more for the scavengers, he thought grimly to himself. The leaking water had soaked his remaining clothes, but he had no time to let them dry and had no desire to keep carrying them around in his pack. So, he scooped out some dirt from the bottom of the ditch he had been sleeping in and made a hole large enough for his clothes to fit. It took him longer than expected to do so, but he had to do it in order to not leave any clues to searchers as to which direction he had traveled in after leaving the orphanage. 
By the time he had finished, the sun was high in the sky and beating down on him, and his hands were raw and cracked. Then, he set to work finding the leak in his water canteen. He found it after looking for a while: a tiny crack in the nozzle area. That explains why only some leaked out, he thought to himself. He was both lucky and unlucky. Lucky that the crack was so small but unlucky that he had a crack in his only water supply after only one day of travel.  He knew that he had to carry it in his hand if he wished to avoid any more spilling by tilting it so that the cracked end was higher than the water level. He didn’t trust his packing ability to get it to stay in one position, especially with the lack of materials to carry due to him dumping all of his clothes.
Looking up at the sky, he realized the hot sun was directly overhead and realized that he had to get moving if he were to have any chance at reaching the quarry and the lion by nightfall.
That is if the lion were even still alive. He wasn’t even sure whether the dream he had had was real or not, and if it was whether it was prophetic, or whether what he saw was in the future, the present, or the past, and that there was nothing he could do to change it.  Oh well, he thought. Nothing he could do now but go find out.  He began his long walk again, thinking of his time at the orphanage to keep him occupied.
He remembered one occasion in particular. It was his 11th birthday, which was very important at the orphanage because age 11 was when you got put into the older group. The orphanage separated the kids into two groups: the older group and the younger group.  The older group was for ages 11 and up, and making the transition was a big deal. The older group required less supervision, and therefore had more freedom. They could play by themselves, wake up when they wanted for the most part, be first in line at the dining hall, and even go on the occasional trip to town. 
Anyways, he was having his 11th birthday, which the orphanage made a big deal out of for everyone. They even got a big cake with enough for every single kid to have a slice.  When it was his birthday, there was no exception. Regardless of the fact that he was an outcast, unwanted and unloved, people seemed to be looking forward to his birthday more than usual. This made him very excited. More than anyone else, he was extremely excited for his birthday. The morning of his birthday, he strolled triumphantly down the hall to the lunch hall and walked up to the food line like he owned the place. He sat down by himself, but today he didn’t care. He was on top of the world.
He heard some more sniggers than usual that morning but attributed it to people being excited and joking around because of the lighthearted mood. He was right, in a sense.  He went to activities that day, and everything went according to plans. It was his last day of ridiculously close supervision, his last day in shackles, his last day in the younger group.  He went through the activities alone for the most part, but he was used to it. He drew some more stares than usual that day though, which he attributed to the fact that he was going to be an older kid soon and the younger kids wanting to get a good look at him before he was too cool to even so much as take a sideways glance at them. That’s what he thought, at least.
At last, it came time for dinner and the party, along with his impromptu graduation speech that he had secretly been planning for weeks.
“One half score and one year ago”, it began. It was pure gold, the other kids, at least the ones who got the reference, would love it. The younger kids wouldn’t but hey, they meant nothing to him now. 
The dinner came and went in a blur, and the whole place had a buzz about it he had never felt or witnessed before. He was so excited! The other kids were all smiling and laughing, and he was having a great time, even though he wasn’t talking to them, because they were having a great time at his birthday party. Then, Mr. Goodings, looking like he was about to bring the executioner’s axe down on the head of the criminal, stepped up to the podium. Man, what a buzz kill, Zach thought to himself.
“Ahem, good evening everyone.” Mr. Goodings said grimly.
“Good evening Mr. Goodings.” Said the rest of the room in unison.
“Now, as I’m, ahem, sure you all know” he stammered, “today is a very special day. One of our students will be graduating from the younger group to the older group tonight.”
The whole room stifled laughter. It must have been because of his stumbling over his words, Zach thought to himself.
“Zachary will be turning 11 today and therefore become a member of the older kids group.”
The anticipation mounted even further.
“Let us bring out the cake.” He said quietly.
The cake was magnificent, as they all were. It was huge with white buttercream frosting on it, from the local bakery, with the words happy birthday, Zach inscribed on it.  One of the staff at the orphanage walked up to the podium and asked the birthday boy to come up with her. He walked up to the stage, beginning to feel a bit uneasy due to the looks he was getting. Most looked like the look a wolf might give to a sheep right before it gets eaten, but one girl looked him in the eye with a cross between fear and pity on her face.  He walked up to the front as cake was being passed out. His slice was big, and there were 11 candles on it. As he blew them out, the room, in unison, took their pieces and threw them at Zach, coating him with a thick layer of cake.
He stood there, shocked, as the room erupted into laughter. Then, quietly, the song broke out.
“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Zachary,
Happy birthday to you.”
All the while, he stood there, quivering with rage and humiliation, tears streaming down his frosting caked face.  He began shaking harder and harder as the room laughed. He shook almost uncontrollably and could not control his anger any longer. Screw the deep breaths, he thought to himself. Screw Mr. Goodings. Screw all of these fools laughing at him. He then flexed with all his might and tightened every muscle in his body. As he did this, dark figures could be seen gliding onto the school grounds. Mr. Goodings grabbed him and pulled him off the stage, knowing what was coming. Zachary finally released all of his anger and, with a scream, unclenched every muscle in his body. Mayhem broke loose. All of the windows in the great hall shattered outwards as if blown off from the inside.  Kids started screaming and the black figures vanished from the grounds as quickly as they had come. Zachary, crying and in the fetal position, was carried by Mr. Goodings and another staff member to the showers to wash off. He then went to bed and the events of that night were never spoken of again.
Chapter 12: Into the darkness
That was the last time Zachary had failed to control his anger. He didn’t know what he had done or why it had happened, only that he had and it had. He knew nothing of the shadowy figures gliding around the grounds.  All he knew is that he had failed to control his anger, as Mr. Goodings had so often warned him he must not do, and bad things had happened. The anger he felt even recalling that horrible day almost sent him into a rage walking along the dirt road southbound towards the quarry. He began his normal cycle, breathing in and out, deeply. Deciding that it probably was a waste of energy and time to do it more than three times, he only did it three. He felt calmer then, and continued walking.
He kept walking for several hours until the sun was directly overhead, then he stopped for a drink by a lone tree by the side of the road. The whole time he had been walking he hadn’t seen a single car, which he found a bit odd.  Nevertheless, he had finished off most of his diminishing water supply and decided it was time to set off again. He knew that he probably couldn’t survive another night like the last, at least not comfortably.  He got up, stretched out, adjusted the t-shirt he had draped over his head and neck for sun protection, and continued on walking.
He looked at his map and estimated that he had about 5 miles to go until he reached the quarry, which might not seem like a lot, but given the condition he was in was quite the journey. He walked slowly and methodically, and picked up a walking stick he found by the side of the road in order to ease the stress on his aching back and right leg.  As the day dragged on and he passed a few mile markers, he became more and more weary and unsure that he would reach his goal. He had blisters all over his feet and his shoulders and back were dreadfully sore from the pack he was carrying. He just continued walking though. Step by step, he carried on and drew closer to his goal.
Eventually, however, his legs simply didn’t have enough energy left in them to carry him.  He stumbled to the ground and lay face-first in the hot, dry earth.  He lay there for a long while, until he perceived a shift in the light, that everything was becoming redder and the light was slanting more and more. He knew that that meant that he had to get moving if he wanted to have any hope of finding the lion by sunset. He looked up, and, shocked that he hadn’t noticed it before, saw a large hill in front of him.  He climbed up slowly but surely and stood at the top, gazing out at the valley down below. He had seen this before, in his dream. Recognizing the luscious green treetops of the forest in front of him and seeing, in the distance and beyond the trees, a hole going straight down into the earth. 
The treetops were caste in a reddish hue from the setting sun, and there was something sinister about them.  Zach knew that he had to hurry if he wished to make it through the forest by dark. He dug his feet into the ground and began sliding down the gravel on the side of the hill, knowing that this was the fastest way to get down. When he reached the bottom, he pulled out his flask of water and emptied it into his mouth. It was disappointingly little sustenance for his parched throat. 
Nevertheless, he set off at a brisk pace into the increasingly dark and menacing looking forest.  He walked through the first set of trees and was enveloped in blackness. Not the sort of blackness one would see when they were in a room with the lights turned off at night blackness, but the kind one would experience while in a deep cave, the kind one would experience beneath a starless and moonless midnight sky, the kind that made one wonder whether all light that ever existed had been a figment of his imagination.  This was the kind of darkness Zachary was in when he entered the forest. He shook his head, took a step back out, and noted that the sun was still in the sky. He had never encountered such thick foliage as to completely block out the sun and all light in the world. 
He wondered if he could make his way around, but realized that this wouldn’t be possible. It would take him days to skirt around the edge of the forest, and he knew that there was no shot at him surviving the trip to the nearest town without any water. So, there was only one place for him to go, deeper in. He took a few steps in, then tripped over what appeared to be a long, twisted tree root. It was placed in a fashion almost like a trip wire. The forest felt menacing, like it didn’t want him there. He felt as if the trees were closing in on him, and he had the unshakable feeling that he was being watched.  He took a few more steps in, and looked back towards the entrance. He couldn’t see any light coming through the trees. He knew that he had to get moving. He took out a book of matches and a stick that he found on the ground, and struck one of the matches several times until it lit.  He then used the match and its fragile, weak flame to light the stick on fire and create a makeshift torch.  He could now see a little beyond him.  The trees were gnarled and twisted, and there appeared to be a path laid out in front of him. 
He began creeping down it, breath ragged in his throat. His torchlight danced on the trees around him, creating menacing shadows and playing mind games with him.  His vision radius was about 15 feet, so he couldn’t make out much, but swore he could see shapes flitting about through the trees just out of his range of vision. 
As he walked, ever vigilantly, he peered about for any signs of the lion. He didn’t want it to get the jump on him and ambush him.  He got deeper and deeper into the forest, becoming increasingly paranoid, until he heard a distinct noise to his right. A branch had cracked, as if someone had stepped on it. He turned his torch to the right and peered intently in, but saw nothing. No signs of movement, no further noise.  He stayed for a couple of seconds, swallowed hard, and kept walking at a brisk pace.  He was becoming increasingly frightened, and felt something was seriously wrong. He knew, somehow, that he was in mortal danger. He had never been in mortal danger before (as far as he knew) but somehow he knew that this was what it felt like.  He kept walking, faster and faster, and began to smell a strange smell. The same one he had smelled in his dream, the one of the decaying animal and the rose mixed together.  He began walking even faster and broke out into a run.
Now he heard a noise. At first, he thought he was imagining it.  A soft buzzing, very quiet, very discreet. The buzzing gradually grew louder and louder, until it was deafening. It was as if he was in a beehive.  He broke into a run now, wondering how much further it could be till he reached the end of the forest.  He then came across a split in the road.  There was a sign on the tree that split the path in two:
Here lies the most important decision you will ever make.
The path on the right will lead you to the tiger.
The path on the left will lead you home.
Take too long and we will find you.
Good luck.
Oh my god. He thought to himself. He was now hyperventilating and shaking with fear. He was sure he would be white as a ghost if he were to be seen by anyone.  The buzzing noise and that awful smell had subsided a bit, but were now growing stronger and stronger. He felt as if he were in a beehive.  He read the sign once more. Who was “we”? He wondered. He assumed he was not supposed to be found, because the sign had a skull and crossbones painted into it by that line. So, he had to decide fast. He wondered what it meant by home. There was no place he really identified as home, but supposed they must mean the orphanage.
He had no desire to go back there but anything would be better than his current situation. But the path to the right had the tiger. Had he come all this way for nothing? This sign seemed to suggest otherwise.  Whoever wrote this knew about the tiger. Wait, what if he was imagining the sign due to sleep deprivation? Or dehydration? Was this a hallucination? What if this whole thing was a dream and he was still back at the orphanage? Well, while he was considering this the buzzing reached an almost unbearable level and the smell was overpowering. He felt a cold, cold wind pass over him and shivered almost uncontrollably. His torch went out, and he was once again in the pitch-blackness of a starless night.  He almost began to cry, shaking and shivering trying to hold in his emotion. He bit his lip so hard it bled, and dug his fingernails into his palms in order to keep from crying out. He knew that whoever they were, they had found him.
Chapter 13: Alone
Zachary was terrified. He was doing everything in his power not to start bawling like a little baby. He was helpless. Nothing in his life so far had done anything to prepare him for an experience like this; he stood no shot.  He was trembling so hard he was afraid his shoes would come off. Then, he felt something enter his mind. Not like a thought, but like a foreign entity, like he was being probed. Whatever had entered was foreign, unfamiliar, and certainly not welcome. He felt it rummaging through like a person would rummage through a suitcase or refrigerator, going through his thoughts and memories, making him relive some of the most unbearable experiences at the orphanage.  There was nothing he could do to fight it, no matter how hard he tried. He kept pushing and pushing, tears streaming down his face to no avail.
Then, he felt something else. Another foreign presence, but this one felt different: no less dangerous, but with better intentions. He felt the two forces battle for supremacy in his mind. The process was agonizing for him, and he lay on the floor in agony. Eventually, after several minutes of this intense back and forth battle going on in his mind, the newer of the two entities won control of his thoughts. It then left immediately, and he was left sitting alone in the forest with his thoughts. All was silent and pitch black. 
He got up after a few minutes, and looked around, bewildered.  He then realized that he still had to keep going and decide which path to go down. He knew that he had to choose the tiger path now and go right, there were too many unanswered questions otherwise. He took ten deep breaths. In out, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out.  Then, he set off down the path to the right.
He walked slowly through the pitch darkness for a few yards then tripped over a gnarled and twisted root.  Realizing that in his terror and bewilderment, he had forgotten to relight his torch and that this would be potentially dangerous to him with all of the sinister roots that seemed to be twisting across at ankle level like designed trip wires. He took out his match box, hands trembling wildly, and dropped it to the ground.  Damn, he thought to himself. He stooped down and felt around for it, but couldn’t feel much of anything.  He stayed down on the ground searching frantically, expanding his search radius more and more until he was thrashing about wildly without much of a hope of finding it, only to realize that he had completely disoriented himself even further and had no idea which direction he had been traveling in. Now, he had been in the forest for what felt like a good few hours and the sun was beginning to set, and a cold, damp chill had settled over him. It seemed to penetrate all the way down to his bones, and he felt as if he was frozen solid. 
He reached for his pack and pulled out his blanket, wrapping it around himself several times in order to try to conserve warmth.  Realizing that he had to get moving, he started off in a direction that he vaguely felt he had been traveling in. As he walked, he often tripped, and was both exhausted and dehydrated. He walked and walked for what seemed like many hours to his fatigued body and mind, and concluded that he must have been walking in the wrong direction. So, he turned around, and walked back the way he had come. At this point, he was very close to passing out from dehydration and sheer exhaustion. His eyes were becoming slightly accustomed to the dark and he began to be able to determine distant, indistinct shapes. They must have been trees, he thought wistfully to himself as he continued his march.
Then he realized that he was dreaming. He was asleep but his legs were moving. He had been here before, many, many times. In fact, this was where he came every time he fell asleep. The empty room with the eyes.  But there were no eyes now. He had thought that those were nightmares, that the eyes were what made it scary.  Oh, how he couldn’t have been any more wrong. Now he realized that this, in fact, was the nightmare. He was alone. Well and truly alone, by himself.  There was no one there to save him, no one to give him even some small semblance of self-assuredness or comfort.  Being alone was worse than being trapped in a cage with the tiger, worse than being trapped in the hornets nest. He was going to die here, alone and afraid, cold, thirsty, exhausted, and hungry, he realized as he shuffled his feet slowly forward.
No, just keep moving, he told himself. Step by step, inch by inch, he would keep moving. He would not give up even if it was hopeless, because that’s what humans do.  Human nature is to keep fighting for survival until the last breath, to try to carry on even in the darkest of all times. Which was where Zachary was right then. He was walking with the shadow of death draped over him like a blanket, ready to engulf him at any moment. He closed his eyes as he walked, humming softly to himself in order to keep his sanity.
He stumbled along blindly in the dark for another few minutes until he finally gained the courage to open his eyes. He stopped for a moment and slowly counted to 10, hoping that this was just some strange dream and he would wake up eventually. He took ten deep, deep breaths, holding each for what seemed like a full minute, and felt some of his panic subsiding a little bit.  Then, he opened his eyes.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was staring into inky darkness once more, the cold was still penetrating deep within him, and he was still very much afraid and alone. After a few seconds, just like before, he began to make out distant, indistinct shapes.  He swiveled around and looked out at all directions for any hope of a light to guide him out of this nightmare. But there was nothing. He began to hyperventilate once more, and fell to the floor. This is it, he thought to himself. This is the end.  He lay on the floor, breath becoming more and more ragged and uneven, the clutch of death descending on him and stealing away his life. Then, right as his brain was about to shut down, he felt something. He felt the same probe he had earlier enter his mind, feeling around and arousing his curiosity. What was this mysterious entity? He had no clue, but he felt it suddenly tighten its grip on his mind.  He was now powerless, and it had full access to anything it wanted, which was fine by him. He was done fighting.  Abruptly, he felt himself rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up with his arms. He got onto his knees and stood up, not consciously trying to do this.  Whatever was in his mind was controlling his body as well.
He stood, and his head swiveled around.  At first he saw nothing, but then, in the distance, two specks of light. One red, one yellow. 
Chapter 14: Encounter
Zachary immediately recognized those lights. They were eyes! The eyes he had seen every night in his dreams, the eyes he had seen on the tiger. So, he must have been going in the right direction! That was the tiger!
Suddenly, the force released his mind and his body went limp, collapsing to the floor in a heap.  He barely had enough strength and will power to lift his head, but he did, and to his amazement the eyes were still there, staring back at him like beacons in the darkness.  The force that had entered his mind had given him strength that he thought he didn’t have. With this newfound strength he got up and began walking, slowly but surely, towards the eyes. He walked for what seemed like hours, tripping and falling and acquiring a mighty collection of scrapes and bruises, but never taking his eyes off the two staring at him. He got closer, and began to make out light coming from behind the eyes. He walked quickly and briskly towards the set of eyes and the exit to this horrible nightmare, and eventually came close enough to see the figure containing his eyes. He expected to see a tiger, but instead, saw himself with one red eye and one yellow.
“Welcome to the other side.” The doppelgänger Zach said with a smile.
“What, how, where, wait, what???” Was Zach’s only response.
“Ah, I expect you must have a lot of questions. Come with me.” He said.
With that, he turned and walked away from Zach at a brisk pace.  Zach had to hurry to catch up. They walked for a few minutes until they reached a hill overlooking the quarry. He stopped at the top to look down into the quarry, but saw nothing out of the ordinary going on and no signs of a struggle. They walked down the hill a bit, and Zach noticed some small indentations in the side. The mysterious boy took out two small objects from his shirt pocket and inserted them simultaneously into the holes. The ground underneath them began shifting, and Zach lost his balance, almost falling to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Zach asked angrily.
The boy didn’t respond. In front of them, an opening large enough to fit through had appeared. The boy walked in, and Zach realized that he had no choice but to follow.
“You must be tired.” Said the boy.
“Yes, but I want answers first!” Zach retorted.
They were walking down a set of stairs that led deep into the mountain.  It was dark and musty but there were burning torches every few yards. But they were no ordinary torches. These torches were burning blueish green, something that Zach had never seen before but didn’t have the inclination or presence of mind to ask about at the moment. He checked them down into the questions he needed to ask this boy at some point folder in his brain.
“Now, I will give you all the answers you want once you are well rested and have had proper nourishment. You are in no state to hear what I have to tell you right now. You probably wouldn’t remember half of it anyway.” Said the boy matter-of-factly.
“Wait, you bring me all this way, lure me here, take me into a magic cave in the cliff face, save me from whatever the hell that was in the forest, and then won’t tell me what the hell is going on? Are you serious?” Zach screamed, almost apoplectic with rage.
“Yep, that’s exactly what I intend to do. You’ll thank me later.”
They walked downwards and eventually reached a large circular room. It had eight doorways leading off into what Zach could only assume included living quarters, a place to eat, and toiletries.  He wanted so badly to press for questions, but realized that the boy was right.  He needed to get sleep before he heard what the boy had to tell him, no matter how difficult it was to ignore the boy at this time.
The boy walked briskly to the door directly opposite the staircase and opened it.  Zachary assumed he was supposed to follow, so he did. The door opened up into a medium-sized circular room, much like the one they had just left, but with a bed and a nightstand in it. The boy went to the dresser across from the bed and pulled out sheets, pillows, and pillowcases. He made the bed and told Zachary to get some sleep and left the room. He came back a few minutes later and brought a pitcher of water, several glasses, and a bowl of oatmeal.  He then left Zachary alone with his thoughts without another word.
Chapter 15: Recovery
Zachary sat in the room, mind racing. He took ten deep breaths. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. He held each for several seconds, and this worked to clear his mind. He then realized that his throat felt like sandpaper and he needed to drink water, fast. He began chugging the pitcher that doppelganger him had supplied. He also realized that he was very, very hungry, almost ravenously so. He began scooping the oatmeal into his mouth until he couldn’t eat anymore. Then he drank and drank some more. Finally content, he fell backwards into the bed and was asleep in seconds. 
Again, he was visited by strange dreams. This time, the dream seemed like a continuation of the one he had been having the previous night. He opened into the scene as the tiger, terrified of the buzzing noise. Now, it imparted a much greater sense of terror onto him because he understood that the buzzing meant that they were coming to steal away his life. He now knew why the tiger had been so afraid. He looked around, and saw it. A black cloaked figure gliding across the field towards the quarry. Something about it screamed death, death, death. He knew that this was not something to mess with.  He felt a probe enter his mind, but now he felt more prepared, more ready to fight it.  He used his mental energy and pushed the menace aside like a fencer might parry a blow.  He felt empowered to have fended off such a powerful attack with such ease, but then realized he was inside of the lion, so it wasn’t him doing this. The lion, however, was still very afraid and on guard.
The black figure had drifted slightly further away, and Zach felt relieved for a second, but then the lion looked up and saw that behind the first of these humanoid creatures, there were about ten more. Then, they started probing his mind from all directions. He fought hard, parried from the front, the left, the right, the front again, but there were too many. There were simply too many and he couldn’t fight all of them. He would fight off one then another would come and take its place while the first one was recovering. He, however, received no respite and couldn’t fight forever. His strength was waning, but the lion was still fighting with all its might to fend off the invaders.  It was all he could do to hold them at bay. The lion, though not focusing on anything with its eyes, still had them open, and Zach could see out of them.  Zach took control of them and looked around. The dark figures were advancing, and some were coming over the edge of the quarry and into the quarry itself.
Now, Zach began to panic. He knew that the lion probably couldn’t fend off the probes just mentally without substantial help, but if he was going to be physically assaulted he stood no shot. There appeared to be 11 of them. Gliding slowly and silently down towards them. Zach was powerless to do anything, and realized he was probably watching this either before or after it really happened. The first of the black cloaked figures glided silently down to him and came up to within inches of his face. Meanwhile, the lion was still doing everything in its power to fight off the invaders. The one that came up to him was looking directly down at his face, and Zach looked directly back up at the figure. He saw nothing within the hood of the cloak, just deep, dark, inky blackness. He realized with a shiver that the inside of the forest could have contained hundreds of these things, just inches away from him, and he would have never known.
He felt a strange and inexplicable suction coming from the lion as its life force was seemingly being sucked out of its mouth by this strange entity. The lion realized that it had no more time to stall, and turned its attention to the physical manifestation of what was pounding his brain in an effort to gain control, and swatted at it with a paw. The instant the lion touched it, the lion’s consciousness was sucked into the body of the reaper standing over it.  The probes quickly and efficiently took control of the lion, and Zachary felt them at work. They first dismantled the area of the brain that held cognitive thought, and went on to destroy memory, emotion, and every other area that held anything of importance. The only thing left was the motion center.
They left the motion center standing. Meanwhile, from an outsider’s perspective, the skin and flesh of the lion was rapidly disintegrating like it had been dipped in a vat of acid. Over the course of a few seconds, this proud and regal animal had been turned into nothing but bones. Yet somehow, the bones didn’t collapse immediately. They were left standing. Zach looked up at the reaper that had been hanging over this lion and saw that it was slowly disappearing. He had no idea why, but the reaper was gone in a matter of minutes.
However, this meant that the lion’s life force must be gone as well, he thought sadly. The figures began gliding away as he regained his bearings. What he saw next defied all semblance of reason he had ever seen. The skeleton of the tiger went trotting after them. He looked around in bewilderment, and just as the group disappeared over the horizon, he woke up.
He awoke to the boy’s face inches above his.
“So, it appears you’ve met the necromancers. I have a lot to explain.” The boy said grimly, and with that, walked out of the room.