[it may not be the strangest place he’s ever woken up in, but it’s certainly the most unexpected. it isn’t the metallic surface of the ship he'd been clinging on to for dear life. isn’t even a trash-filled alleyway in queens. it’s…a forest. one that makes him think of camping trips with ben. of field trips to state forests. but he’s alone here. alone, and something feels wrong. off in a way that has nothing to do with his senses, and everything to do with his lack of memories. of him not knowing how he got here in the first place.

or why.

sitting up, peter takes a few moments to try and get his bearings. to pat himself down and make sure that, yep, he’s still in one piece. somehow. another few beats, and then he’s scrambling to his feet, eyes flicking around in a panic because where is everybody?

…

it’s almost an hour before peter finds his way to the lake, his suit swapped out for the clothes in his pack, and gaze constantly flicking back towards the trees. there’s something out there, and something tells him that now isn’t the time to go find out just what that is.

so instead, he heads as close to the water as he can get, tracking a slow path around the edge of the lake in the hopes of stumbling across a familiar face. or perhaps just an answer or two.

…a boat wouldn’t go amiss either.]

[since arriving, peter has been on edge. that constant feeling of being watched, of having something following him around is something he can’t shake. can’t ignore. he’s spent days wandering the island, doing his best to try and find some kind of clue as to where he is. why they’ve been brought here. but magic is something he’s only recently experienced first hand, and it’s far from being familiar to him yet. it’s one thing to see people like wanda and doctor strange do things beyond the realms of science. but it’s another to have to try and explain it. to work out how to use it to his benefit here.

(he really needs to find a magic user.)

at the start of the week, peter can be found continuing his explorations, a map slowly being formed on the wall of the cabin he’s (semi) claimed a bed in. whether it’s unofficially become a joint effort or not with the other people who live there, he doesn’t know. but the map looks different every day, and he knows he isn’t the only one making changes to it.

it’s over a week later though that the map has its largest changes made, and peter definitely isn’t to blame here. not with the set of claw marks gouged into the wall. the map may be destroyed now, but that really isn’t his biggest concern here. not when someone, or something, has decided to leave a calling card like that.

by the end of the second week, peter is nearing his breaking point. no matter how much he tries to stay awake, tries to keep watch over what’s happening, he can’t be everywhere at once. can’t really keep his eyes open for as long as he’d like when he’s running on such a limited amount of food here. so waking up to find the remains of may’s sweater bundled at his feet brings a cold sense of dread to him. of panic.

don’t mind the teenager huddling in the corner as he fights to remember how to breathe again.]

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