Soul Searching

Devon Barrett stumbled backwards, reaching out blindly. His dark brown arms flailed wildly, seeking purchase on anything he could find. Before he could even open his eyes, his bare foot snagged on a fist-sized rock and he tumbled ass-first into an ice-cold stream. His breath rushed out of him from the shock of being mostly submerged, adrenaline kicking in full blast. He acted quickly, turning on his side and scrambling up the rocky creek bank. He had no idea where he was or how he ended up in a creek. He looked down at his clothes, trying to understand something about the situation. He wore light grey pants, a dark blue vest with a white button-up shirt beneath it. The clothes were decent looking, if not very old-fashioned. He studied his arms and hands next, a beautiful chocolate brown color. He flipped his hands to expose his palms. They were worn and calloused, hands that are used to doing some kind of labor. What was he doing out here in the forest? Who… was he? He looked down into the creek and caught a glimpse of his reflection. A handsome black man, maybe 40 years old. Hair cropped close to his head. He lifted his head and glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a forest, with patches of grass and bramble. A small clear trout stream flowed on the right side. A yellow straw hat with a red band was laid upside down about 5 feet away. He walked over to pick it up but pulled his hand back with a jerk. A perfectly camouflaged rattlesnake was coiled below it. A whispering rattle sounded from its tail. Suddenly, his ankle throbbed- as if remembering that snake. He slowly backed away several feet, careful not to take his eyes off the deadly serpent until he was a safe distance away. He lifted the cuff of his pants to reveal two puncture marks and extremely swollen red skin. Snake bites. He lowered his pantleg and surveyed the forest, shading his eyes from the sun with a hand. He pieced together what he knew. Given the damning evidence, it appeared that he had been bitten by a rattlesnake and must have fainted, falling into the stream. Yet somehow he was walking and breathing. When Devon backed away, the snake had decided to move on and slithered lazily towards a patch of tall grass. He watched it change direction towards a tree stump several feet away. With the coast clear, he once more bent to pick up his hat. As he leaned over, a blood red crystal dangling from a silver chain fell out from under his shirt, swaying just in front of his face. An amulet. He closed his hand over it and the memories flooded back in an instant. Who he was. Why he didn't remember the snake. Why he wasn't currently dead. He remembered that he was not called Devon, his name was Isaac. Devon was the man who previously owned this body. His soul, his essence of being, was no longer present. It was either in whatever version of the afterlife he belonged in or already reincarnated into a new form. Some memories of this body remained, like his name and where his home was. Often he could speak the language the person spoke before dying, though it became more difficult the longer he remained attached to the empty vessel. He remembered the last thing. The most important thing in his existence. He closed his eyes and gripped the amulet in both hands, feeling tears well in his eyes. Helena. His honey bee. He was still searching for her. He'd continue to search until his lifeforce turned to stardust. Or the amulet did, whichever happened first, he supposed. He now knew what his next move was, he'd done this hundreds of times. The first few minutes were always confusing until he found the blood stone, but after he regained his memory, is was like riding a bike. Currently, his first order of business was to find shoes. Where the hell had this man's shoes gotten off to? He walked down the stream for several feet and saw them sitting on the opposite bank. Two scuffed but still useful brown leather shoes. Next to them were two grey socks and a small leather satchel. He scavenged for more of Devon's possessions, knowing little about this man beside his name. In the stream water, he noticed an elongated wicker basket - likely a fish trap of some kind. Devon shrugged, thinking waste not, want not, and pulled the trap out of the frigid water. Several terra-cotta colored crayfish flipped up and down, using their tails to attempt to propel themselves out of the trap. He quickly loaded them into a pouch in the satchel and headed in the direction that the trees thinned. The next step would be the hard part. He would have to fake this man's routine, attempting to pass for normal. Normal enough for however long it took to see if she was here- in this time, in this place. Based on the clothes and chilly forest setting, he figured he could be anywhere in Europe, America or Canada. He spoke, testing out his voice and was pleased to hear the English language come out of his mouth. It was always a tiny blessing when the vessel had spoken his language. It just gave him one less thing to worry about. As he walked, he whispered a silent prayer that Helena was here. He didn't know who or what he prayed to, but figured that it was the thought is what counts for this sort of thing. He mostly prayed that the crystal would do whatever it's supposed to to alert him to her presence. He often doubted if the damn thing even worked. So far, it hadn't glowed, vibrated, spoken to him or as much as given him a feeling. He wasn't totally sure what was supposed to happen, and there was no chance in finding The Shaman now. He had been told there was no going back once he started his journey, and damn if that wasn't the truth. The amulet obviously worked for one thing, jumping from vessel to vessel. But as far as finding his Helena, maybe this was all a wild goose chase. Hell, maybe this was a f*cking dream for all he knew. Maybe he'd hit his head and landed in a coma back home with her by his side waiting for him to wake up. Or maybe it was something worse. In the back of his mind he wondered if maybe this was hell and he was being punished for failing her. For breaking his promise. The words he spoke to her echoed in his mind, I will find you, no matter the cost. Devon/Isaac saw a small deer trail ahead and followed it, hoping it would lead him to whatever town or homestead was around. Yes, the next part is always tricky. Act normal, he told himself. As if he had any idea of what normal was to this man. He laughed at the irony and walked forward, and kept his eyes on the trail - taking special consideration of any rattlesnakes that crossed his path. His thoughts drifted to her as he walked mindlessly towards the nearest gathered civilization. His honey bee. His soulmate. The one he had lost.