She crouched and began unloading everything one item at a time, sorting them into rough piles; stones, wood, chest, meat, antlers.
Something about the antlers seemed strange. They didn’t look natural. They didn’t have the symmetry and grace that she recognized from her world. These were jagged and twisted. They looked less like bone grown from an animal’s skull and more like weapons forged for battle. The longer she stared, the more they seemed to pulse with menace, as though the severed antlers still carried the echo of the beast’s life essence. She knew it was impossible because the animal was dead, its body already cooling, and yet the antlers throbbed faintly, as if some hidden vein still coursed with energy, refusing to surrender to death. They looked less like discarded trophies and more like relics that remembered the violence of their owner, each beat a reminder that the caribou’s rage had not entirely faded with its flesh.
Nothing about a carnivorous caribou could ever be called “natural”. Its very existence was a contradiction. A mutation. Or maybe it was an evolution necessitated by a world that was far more dangerous than anything she had ever known. The antlers were simply the most visible reminder that this beast belonged to no ordinary wilderness, but to some darker order where survival meant turning every feature into a tool for killing.
She couldn’t stand looking at the antlers. They were a reminder of the violence she’d just inflicted on another living thing. Sure, it was self-defense, but that didn’t make it feel any less wrong. She’d always been the kind of kid who would’ve cried for days if Disney hadn’t watered down the scene where Bambi’s mom gets shot.
Now here she was, staring at these antlers like they were proof she’d crossed some line. If they didn’t have value, she would’ve left them right where they were, still on the caribou’s body. She wasn’t out here collecting trophies. She wasn’t some ivory hunter.
She placed the antlers beside the chest, like two mismatched museum pieces arranged by a curator with questionable taste.
Next came fire. A necessary, welcome distraction.
She built up the beginnings of a fire with practiced movements. Once the kindling caught, she added larger sticks until the small flame grew into a steady crackling warmth.
She grabbed the meat from her cart and set it beside the fire.
"Alright, chef Riley," she muttered. "Let’s pretend you know what you are doing."
Cooking tools. None. Utensils. Nope. The only thing remotely close to cookware was her dented metal helmet, and today it was being upgraded from fashion disaster to primitive frying pan.
She rummaged through the kindling pile and selected a stick that was straight enough and just long enough to manipulate the meat with minimal handling. Then she found two sturdier sticks she could use as makeshift tongs.
Once the fire was blazing steadily, she wedged the metal helmet between a thick log and the back stone of the fireplace so it would stay upright.
The slice of meat inside began sizzling almost instantly.
Riley’s eyes widened. Her mouth watered. Real food! Not berries or raw desperation or the occasional leaf that was maybe not poisonous. It was an intoxicating thought.
The smell hit her next.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "I am going to cry. I am actually going to cry."
It had been so long since she had smelled real food cooking that her brain short circuited with delight. No spices, no oil, just heat and meat. It was still the greatest thing she had encountered in this world so far.
When the underside darkened, she attempted to carefully flip it using her makeshift utensils. It took a few tries. She stabbed at it, nudged it, cursed at it, but eventually she managed to roll it over.
The other side sizzled even louder.
After a while, once the meat looked dark and beautifully cooked, she used her two stick tongs to lift the helmet away from the fire and set it on the stone floor to cool.
"What I would not give for some cutlery," she sighed. "Or a plate. I’m getting a little tired of Riley’s Life in the Wild: YouTube Edition. Like, comment, and subscribe for more unhinged survival attempts."
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
As the meat cooled, she finally turned her attention to the unopened chest.
Her imagination sprinted at the possibilities. Tools? Armor? Actual cookware? A toothbrush? A phone charger? Alright, that last one was pushing it.
Riley grabbed the sides of the chest lid and lifted it.
Inside something was glowing.
A clock. Or at least something clock-shaped. Gold. Bright. Gently humming.
"What the hell is this?" she breathed.
Before she could touch it, the glowing clock dissolved into motes of light and the chest vanished with it.
A HUD message blinked open.
Riley blinked at it.
??1-Hour Research Time Token Inventoried
Her jaw dropped.
"A time token," she whispered. "They are giving me a speed up."
Her heart fluttered with excitement. In Warfront: Kingdoms, time was everything. Cutting even one hour off a research objective was priceless.
She immediately made a mental note to do a deep dive into the research tree as soon as possible.
Another icon blinked insistently.
She opened it.
??Congratulations, you have received the title of Novice Hunter Level 1
She raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Title unlocked. Very cool. How very LinkedIn of it. Add me to your professional network of murder."
But her thoughts derailed instantly as the smell of cooked meat intensified.
Riley closed the HUD and practically lunged toward her meal.
She tapped the helmet to test the heat. Hot, but manageable. She tapped the meat next. Warm but not molten.
Good enough.
In one fluid motion that felt wholly primal and deeply satisfying, she grabbed the meat with her bare hands and tore into it like a ravenous cavewoman who had not eaten in ages.
Flavor exploded across her tongue.
"Oh. My. God." she moaned around a mouthful. "Yes. Yes. Finally."
The meat disappeared faster than she expected. When she finished, she sat back, stunned by how good she felt. Warm. Fed. Strong. Savage, even, in a weirdly empowering way.
“I just ate something I killed.” She never thought she would hear herself say those words. Even on all those camping trips with her dad, they had never gone that wild. They always had a cooler full of hot dogs, marshmallows and soda.
She waited tensely to see if her stomach would rebel.
It did not.
Instead, a wave of deep, drowsy laziness washed over her.
"Nope," she muttered. "No. No ma’am. We do not nap right now. We have half a day of actual productivity to get through."
Groaning, she stood, gathered her tools, opened the tower door, and headed toward the river dragging the cart with one hand and squinting in the sunlight.
The prickling sensation returned.
She paused and scanned the treeline.
Nothing. Just wind blowing through the leaves.
"Okay. Stop with the creepy forest vibes already." she instructed the outdoors.
She continued toward the stream, basking in the joy of her full stomach until the carcass she had left behind came into view.
And it was not alone.
Riley stopped and stared. Then slightly smiled.
A familiar dog was crouched beside the carcass, happily eating.
He noticed her and wagged his tail.
Riley began taking a mental inventory of every interaction she had shared with the dog, like her mind was flipping through a highlight reel on fastforward. She remembered how ridiculous she’d felt that first day, panicking at its presence only to realize it was chasing a rabbit, not her. Then there was the gate at Rivermark, where it greeted her but vanished before the coincidence could turn into anything more. As she was on her way back to the tower it was all teeth and fury, nothing like the friendly dog she thought she knew. And yet, that same ferocity had been what saved her earlier, when it rammed into the caribou and gave her a chance to live. Now here it was again, tail wagging, another complete flip in character. If it hadn’t proven itself in that fight, she’d have written it off as too unpredictable to trust.
But it had saved her. Without it, she wouldn’t have survived. That mattered. It made her feel safe. And when she added it all up, the answer seemed simple.
It made sense to try to make a new friend today.
"Hey, buddy," Riley whispered.
She approached slowly. The dog paused, looked at her, wagged harder, then shoved his face back into the meat.
Riley stepped closer.
He looked up again, barked a short, happy acknowledgment, and she stopped.
That bark said everything.
Thanks for lunch.
She extended a hand.
The dog tilted his head, let out a curious whine, then leaned forward and licked her fingers.
Riley startled, pulling back slightly, but the dog only wagged harder.
Her heart warmed for the first time in days.
"Good boy," she said softly, gently petting his head. "You finish up your lunch and I am going to gather more stuff. Maybe you can hang with me when you are done."
She left him to his meal and planted herself by the riverbank with her pickaxe.
The dog joined her as soon as he had finished eating, trotting around her legs as she dug rocks from the soil. Nearby she uncovered another new vein of ore. Everything got loaded into her cart.
She made two full trips before calling it a day.
As she was carrying in the final load, the dog barked once, loud but friendly, and then darted into the trees. Off on some mysterious dog business.
She watched him disappear, then scanned the treeline again.
Nothing. Just that eerie feeling.
Even still, she smiled faintly. She had a door now. A real door.
Inside the tower, she entered her resources into the system without checking the totals. That could wait, she was exhausted.
After the day she had, with all the adrenaline that had pumped through her, the exertion from getting that steak and the full belly she had, she was sure she was going to sleep well tonight.
She built a small fire, ate a little more, then curled into her sleeping spot as warmth filled the room.
Her mental checklist drifted lazily across her thoughts:
- Collect more resources
- Explore the research tree now that she had a time token
- Find the dog again
- Prepare for the caravan back to Rivermark with Garron
- Make good progress
Her eyelids drooped.
Warm. Full. Safe behind a locked door.
Riley fell asleep with a small, contented smile.