Zulu returned to consciousness, feeling the dirt roughly stuck against his cheek. His clothes were wet, and his body was in pain. He didn't want to move as he lied there sore, tired...and lost.

He quickly opened his eyes and attempted to rise, only to fall back as his aching body objected. He paused and took a breath and then tried again, slowly this time. He checked his surroundings as he got his feet under him.

He was deep into the forest, where the trees became shades, and the shadows became an advantage. Zulu kept his awareness of the potential danger as he limped away.

Zulu wondered many things as he wandered, including how he would get home and where he thought this directionless trekking would lead him. He just needed a guide or a sign pointing him in the right direction.

Maybe he should "feel" for it. As if that had been constantly reliable. But there weren't any other options at the moment. And it was the only excuse convincing enough for him to stop walking.

He planted his feet and gave a great inhale of breath. He closed his eyes and mentally chose the exterior sounds instead of his mind.

If he could at least concentrate on the sounds. With all these choruses of cicadas, he couldn't even try to find something worth listening for.

What was he doing that for anyway? The only sound that could guide him home would be the call of his name. And his family wouldn't be able to realize where he is or where to start looking for him. He should keep moving.

Before his awareness cleared, a faint boom of thunder took his attention. Though it was in the distance, he felt the wind massaging his skin.  He knew a storm was on its way and he would need to find shelter.

Zulu was able to build a small shelter for himself using sticks and vines; based on an old technique by Nomads. His uncle encountered a group of them while traveling to Chaka territory.

He recalled him saying they used a Method that he had never seen before. He couldn't explain it, either. He learned from other Warriors that they labeled it as "Alternative," additionally being told that they based their combat skills on "Feelings from Sky."

The sky...Zulu looked up. That's what he needed; a vantage point. 

A weight of lethargy rolled onto him. There's no way he could do it with how little energy and how much soreness he had. He was ready to fall asleep quickly, with his body relaxed and stretched under the shelter.

But maybe he shouldn't go to sleep. The storm hadn't occurred yet, and anything could get to him before the rain did.

Another slump of slumber hit him. Maybe just for a little bit then. Just enough to get some energy back...but...his uncle always said to stay aware, even in rest...

Slight crackles and the boom of looming thunder forced Zulu's eyes to shoot open, but he did not move. There were three individuals sneakily walking towards him, armed with weapons.

Zulu could attack them; he'd have the element of surprise. But he knew he had more if he could keep an eye out.
One of them limped; he had a bad leg. Another was unarmed. Actually, only one of them was armed. That made him the most dangerous, especially since he had a katana.

The wood he used to build the shelter was pretty sturdy. It would be thick enough to block just one attack from the katana, maybe two. He should grab two to give him an advantage.

He knew what he would have to do. Now, it was just a matter of timing...Once they were within reach of the stick.

Zulu kicked one foot out while sitting up and leaning back, his foot striking the armed thief and his arm reaching out to grab a stick at the top of the shelter. He shot out the shelter and quickly put the stick down on the thief's wrist, forcing it and the blade to the ground.

The other two thieves lunged in from the side. Zulu launched his knee into the chin of the thief in front of him and formed into a hook kick that stuck the other thief to his right.
He quickly switched stances to side-kick the other thief and disarm the blade from the center.  

The thunder boomed loudly. Zulu got a hold of the blade and quickly swiped the arm of the thief. His screams echoed in the forest and halted his friends. Zulu held the blade steadfastly.

The other two help their friend up and run off. Zulu stands prepared until he sees that they're entirely gone. He relaxes his stance while taking a breath. 

Zulu slept and awakened peacefully as the rain began to subside. He continued to rest but stayed aware until the rain finished and the sun resumed its natural task.

He journeyed along once the paths were mostly clear, keeping his head up as he looked for anything that could be a view of his location through the thickness of the numerous trees.

He surely felt like a Nomad. Focusing purely on nature, absorbing it all, keeping his head in the clouds for some sort of symbol...a symbol! The tree that his family built their home near. If he can find that, he can find his way back.

He kept his head up, looking for anything that could be a peak. He looked and scanned until he saw something like a mountain peak, but it was tough to see through all the trees.

He had to take that risk. Relying on faith, he faced the direction of the supposed mountain and walked deeper into the woods.

The environment grew darker and quieter as he walked in, with only the various insect sounds and his footsteps audibly accompanying him. Usually, he'd hear a bird or something. Something about the lack of the other sounds disturbed him. Were there just no animals in this area of the woods?

A sound did disrupt his thought, but not necessarily the sound he wanted. It was another footstep, then another, followed by several. He was not alone.

Zulu went into a shadier area quickly. He had no idea who these people were, but he had to find out safely.

The problem now was, where were they coming from? He looked around and didn't see anything. The rustling began to grow louder.

He had to listen above the sound of his heart thumping against his chest. He had to just listen for it... and focus.

His eyes shut softly, his breath controlled his body, and he listened exclusively. The footsteps weren't scattered, but they weren't in rhythm. They were all coming from one side of the woods, thankfully.

Zulu opened his eyes and smoothly backed further into the woods. As he moved, he began to see faint movement in the distance.

He desperately wanted to break out into a run, but that noise wouldn't be of any help. Suddenly, Zulu stopped. He was right.

There he was, face to face, with a symbol painted on a tree. He had just walked into clan territory.

Clans were a rarity, but they were also dangerous. Suke never talked about his time as a soldier for Streng Clan. His father once informed him that there were five significant Clans during that time, including Streng. When all the clans ceased, their soldiers became ronin and roamed the country to find a second life.

But even with significant ones gone, many of the smaller ones still existed. While most ronin eventually found a place in society, there are rumors that several ronin have taken on the fighting lifestyle of the old Clans, believing in it as a guiding principle.

He had to stop thinking about it and take action. All he has to do is tread carefully, quietly, and quickly. 

Every step, snap, and crunch upon the terrain tightened the knot that formed in Zulu's stomach. Any movement could alert a warrior around him. But he had no choice. He had to get out of the territory, or someone would find him.

He tried to get out of his head, knowing he would spiral into a worst-case scenario. Since he was battling anxiety and noise, he had to focus all he could.

A loud crunch occurred, and he froze. His anxiety began winning the fight as he acknowledged that the noise did not come from him. Zulu slowly ducked behind a nearby tree and peeked around.

He saw a warrior. He was wearing pieces of samurai armor, his clan's symbol proudly displayed on his forearms. He was approaching the tree Zulu hid behind, but slowly.

The more they limped, the deeper they dropped with each step. Almost as if the samurai's lower leg didn't even exist... until they crashed to the ground.

Zulu continued to peer from behind the tree. The warrior lay there, not moving for a while. He saw an arm attempt to push up; it didn't work. The last movement Zulu saw was when the warrior picked his head up and looked at him.

They exchanged looks for a second until he passed with the drop of his head. Zulu was bewildered for a moment, unable to realize that he could move now. He had to take in what he had just seen.

Another instance occurred to him; he was near a dead warrior that was a part of a clan and was in their territory—the wrong place at the wrong time.

Zulu quietly sped off, his anxiety flaring as the cool wind rushed past him.

This can't happen. It was too much at too little time. What happens if he gets caught? How is he going to get out of this?

His thoughts stopped before his feet did. He swiftly jumped behind a tree. There was another one.

Zulu also examined this one and noticed critical differences between this one and the deceased one. The symbol on the shoulders of collected samurai armor was the same, but the small cape draped behind him displayed a status amongst the clan.

Suke told his family to be warned of any samurai dressed in any cloth garments, for they were Generals like he was and were as deadly as he was.

The General walked past the tree, not noticing Zulu behind it. As the General disappeared into the woods, relief began to bloom. That would have been completely dangerous, but even worse, if he had called his troops. Those weren't common, and there were only a few exceptions. Like the death of a clan member...

He had to get out of these woods before the General found that dead samurai. If that were to happen, all the troops would cease their actions and follow the signal. There would be several of them running through the woods. Quit thinking and go.