He opens his eyes. The light is diffused, shining down in beams through the canopy. He stares up into those tree tops, watching the leaves flutter, hearing them rustle, whispering to each other.
He sits up, feeling the chill on his bare skin. All of him is bare. He raises his hands to his face, wiggles the little appendages at the ends. Fingers. He puts those fingers to his face, feels the bumps and hollows there. Nose, eyes, mouth, cheeks. He moves his mouth, but no sound comes out.
Slowly, carefully, he rolls over, drawing his knees up beneath himself. Then he pushes with his hands and leans back onto the balls of his feet, slowly rising as the muscles in his legs push him upwards. Then he is standing, wobbling for a moment before finding his balance. In just a few seconds he is taking a few steps. He grins in triumph, but then the smile fades as he wonders what he is grinning about.
He takes a few more steps, then pauses to look at himself again, and realizes that bare skin means “naked”. Suddenly he is fully concious of himself and his surroundings. He looks around, fully taking in his surroundings for the first time. Trees, bushes, sunlight, the scent of earth and rotting leaves. A squirrel dashes up a tree, it's path taking it round and round the trunk. Where is he?
Who is he?
The question fills his mind, echoing and repeating: “Who am I?” He shakes his head, and now a sound, a low moan, escapes his lips. He shakes his head again as if the movement will dislodge the bothersome inquiry.
He knows he is in a forest, alone, and naked. He knows that it shouldn't be this way, but how does he know? He tries to remember, but there is nothing but blue light and warmth, and a feeling of absolute safety. Here there is no safety.
He takes a few more steps and soon he is walking through the trees, through the forest, listening to the bird calls and the rustling of tiny animals hiding in the underbrush. His bare feet move over soft earth, slippery rotting vegetation, and hard stones. He walks for a long time, and the thirst that started as an annoyance begins to turn urgent, painful. He licks his lips, barely moistening them with his tongue, but he keeps moving. He will find water, and then he will find out who he is.