Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2) by Mikey Campling

spicy pepperoni, juicy red peppers and creamy, molten mozzarella. My stomach groaned and I laughed bitterly. “That was then but this is now,” I said. I rubbed my hand across my aching stomach. I’d have to find some food as soon as I could.
    I pushed myself up to my feet and checked behind me. I could just make out the trail I’d left as I’d pushed my way through the ferns. Good. I was still facing in the same direction. I set off again, scanning the trees and ground as I walked, looking for anything that might be edible. At home, I had one of those SAS survival handbooks. A Christmas present from Dad, from back in the days when he still lived with Mum and me. I’d been quite keen on those survival TV shows at the time and I’d read and re-read the book many times. But that was a couple of years ago and a lifetime away. Now, all I could remember was that you shouldn’t eat anything that smelled like almonds. But what did almonds actually smell like? I tried, but I couldn’t conjure up the smell or the taste of them. Marzipan—was that made from almonds? I wasn’t sure. “I don’t even like marzipan,” I muttered. And the thought made me smile. I guessed I wouldn’t be so fussy about food right at that moment. If someone had offered me a can of dog food I would’ve ripped the top off the can with my teeth.
    I trudged on, and after a while, I spotted a huge brown fungus growing out from a tree trunk. I had a vague idea it was a bracket fungus but I couldn’t remember whether it was safe to eat or not. I chewed my lip and stared at the fungus, hoping for some clever idea to pop into my mind. But all I could think of was the dire warnings hammered into me by parents and teachers: lots of fungi were poisonous and some of them were lethal. I shook my head. It just wasn’t worth the risk. Not at this stage.
    I kept walking, and it wasn’t long before I found the path. It was one of those woodland tracks you see in any forest; little more than a winding strip of relatively clear ground meandering through the trees. It didn’t look as though it went anywhere in particular and for all I knew, it might branch out in random directions or even peter out entirely. I tilted my head and studied the path. Who, or what, has passed this way often enough to make a track? There were probably deer in the forest, but what other animals could there be? I’d heard there were wild boar in some woodlands now. They’d been raised on farms for meat, but had escaped and bred. They were quite rare, but if you did come across them, they could get quite nasty. I shook my head. Stupid . It was more likely that the path had been left by walkers out for a stroll. It might even lead somewhere useful, like a car park, or an information point with a map to show me where I was. There was a chance I’d find someone who could help me, or maybe give me a lift to the nearest town. There might even be a drinking fountain and a toilet. I frowned and rubbed my stomach. That last thought was suddenly very important. My guts felt like they were tying themselves in knots. I really shouldn’t have drunk that muddy water . I’d have to find a toilet soon or improvise, and that was a very good reason to follow the path.
    I took one last look back and set off. The path was easier going than wading through the undergrowth and I decided I could wear my backpack again. I swung it up on to my shoulders and adjusted the straps. The heavy tools still bumped against my back as I walked but it wasn’t too annoying. I was walking fast and making good progress, but I couldn’t smile about it. My thirst was like a living thing, a parasite growing in my belly, crawling up my throat. It was all I could think about, so at first, I didn’t notice the change in the forest in front of me.
    Suddenly, I realised that up ahead, the sunlight was brighter, the trees farther apart. There had to be something there. I picked up my pace. I swallowed hard and called out,