I wake in an unknown world. Roof beams crisscross over my head; the smell of old hay surrounds me. The rags I wore are in a lump by my feet; what I wear now is soft and without holes.

  Nox hides somewhere in the hay piled around me. He stayed out of sight while in the village, not making a single click or hiss until we reached the shed. Maybe he can sense my concern around these people.

  With a clicking sound from my tongue, Nox comes crawling toward me. We practiced my way of calling him during my weeks with the children, so he would stay away until I returned. It still doesn’t work well.

  Settled under my softer shirt cuff, Nox clicks in a musical rhythm.

  Then Denet arrives, announcing breakfast.

  As I enter his home, I feel a brush of heat against my leg. I glance down and see a runestone leaning against the wall by the door. Denet doesn’t seem to notice the magic heat as he races past it to help his mother.

  My first proper meal: bread glazed with a touch of honey and thyme. The flavors melt in my mouth. I hesitate to eat more, but Marlene insists, so I fill myself.

  Cleaning follows. Marlene may be a widow, but she keeps house well and works for the blacksmith in the afternoons.

  I use [Detect Decay] to find every spore of mold, scrubbing corners, swiping under the window frames—in a little time I can sense nothing at all, not even the faintest pulse in the house.

  Marlene’s pleased. I can see it in her eyes. She nods to me and I step out into the afternoon light. Denet dances from foot to foot, trying to imitate Raimi, who says she’s practicing for the Festival of Winter Tidings.

  The villagers still stare at me as I pass through with the children. I hope the novelty of my arrival doesn’t turn to resentment.

  Taren meets the three of us near the Haven brook. “Sevorn’s hunting with me today,” he says.

  Denet moans, but Taren promises him deer jerky, which is the only bribe he needs. The boy snatches Raimi’s hand to drag her off for a water race.

  I’m curious about Taren's intention. We don’t speak as we trudge deeper into the woods. Two bows hang from his back. When he stops to hand me one, I frown at him.

  “Without a [Class], you can be anything,” he tells me. “Not everyone is destined for a hunter [Class], but the [Skills] make you invaluable.”

  Weapon: [Hunter's Bow] – Keen (+5 Ranged Attack)

  Made of sleek, dark elm, the bow feels powerful in my hands. With short practice, I can loose an arrow, though it doesn’t fly true.

  “We’ll know soon enough if hunter is your calling,” Taren says. Then he draws back an arrow. It glows, golden at the tip, like lightning. When he releases, a trail of bright light follows the arrow's flight, cutting through the air until it hits a tree and explodes.

  We reach the tree to find the bark scorched black. The arrow remains untouched.

  I use [Detect Decay] while we hunt, filling my bag with mushrooms. Taren thinks I must be some branch of an apothecary [Class], like druid or herbal mage. I don’t feed him anything about how my [Skills] work.

  Taren spots a deer, so far I can barely see it. He draws back his bow, and the arrow becomes lightning on release, dropping the deer in a single hit.

  When we reach it. I retrieve my knife, one Marlene gave me, from a pocket. Taren teaches me how to dress a deer: how to portion, which cuts are most valuable, and what makes good jerky.

  Before we finish, Nox hisses. I’m surprised to find him near my ear. He returns to my cuff, his hiss meant for my ears alone.

  I leap to my feet, my knife red. Taren frowns, but replicates me. Then he pulls out his bow. A low growl responds to us.

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  Ridgeclaw - Level 8

  Of similar size to a boar, but with arms as thick as a gorilla’s, the ridgeclaw mixes muscle with razor-sharp claws at the ends of its massive paws.

  My bow lies on the ground between Taren and the beast.

  Taren’s feet glow, then his bow. This is new.

  The ridgeclaw charges.

  The first arrow hits its shoulder, then another in the cheek, but that does not stop the ridgeclaw.

  I leap over the dead deer, brandishing my knife. Taren hasn’t moved. His feet continue to glow.

  Before another arrow’s loosed, the ridgeclaw plows into Taren—then, to my surprise, bounces off. Taren remains in place, the glow at his feet flickering.

  I come around, knife out, skirting the ridgeclaw, where I can strike without meeting those enormous claws, but the beast saves its strength for another.

  After a third arrow lodges in its head, the ridgeclaw leaps forward and swats at Taren with a giant paw. The blow knocks Taren off his feet, no longer protected by his glowing feet.

  I dash in while the ridgeclaw recovers from its charge, then jump atop it, sinking my knife into its back.

  I know I won’t wound it much. That isn’t my strategy. Instead, I use the knife as an anchor, then touch the flank of the beast and [Leech Grip], sapping strength every second.

  Filled with vitality, I ride the ridgeclaw as it trashes to free itself of me. I hold on, leeching every second, but with nowhere for the extra vitality to go. It builds within me, threatening to burst.

  Taren’s back on his feet, but with me atop the ridgeclaw, he cannot make a shot. He too draws a knife and lunges, driving his weapon with better accuracy than me, right into the ridgeclaw’s eye.

  Weakened, the ridgeclaw lurches, then scrambles back, afraid. It cannot throw me. It’s half-blinded.

  Vitality storms about inside me with nowhere to go. My mana’s depleted. My stamina’s low. I let the ridgeclaw launch me off and I roll along the dirt, pouring vitality out all along the way. Grass grows around me like a bed.

  The ridgeclaw retreats, two knives embedded in it. Taren lifts his bow, breathes once, and releases a lightning arrow strike that downs the beast.

  [Leech Grip] has reached Level 5.

  You have reached level 3.

  Taren drops to his knees, exhausted. Neither of us has the stamina to dress the ridgeclaw, let alone finish the deer. Taren lifts ?his head and whistles like a bird, three notes, then two, repeating until a whistle returns.

  Two other hunters arrive minutes later. They take one look at the ridgeclaw and congratulate Taren on the kill. I say nothing of my own efforts. A single blow from a knife does minor damage against a ridgeclaw at that level, but I see Taren watching me. He knows his own strength. I had a share in the kill.

  Taren offers the ridgeclaw to the others if they share half the meat with the rest of the village. They agree when he lets them keep the pelt too. Once our stamina replenishes, Taren and I finish dressing the deer and return to the village. Raimi and Denet join us on the way back.

  The euphoria of bringing home food surprises me—it’s unlike anything I felt before. Marlene’s excitement for my bag full of mushrooms only heightens the experience.

  Absolved of my evening chores because of my contribution of mushrooms and meat, I retire early in order to skip Denet’s third retelling of my battle with the ridgeclaw, which he not only didn’t see, but has taken great liberty to embellish.

  Though tired, I tidy the small shed. If this will be my home, I prefer it to be organized. I see a black glow and activate [Detect Decay]. The entire building is littered with tiny pulses, but the strongest decay lies in one of the loft posts.

  I get on my knees to inspect the wood. A quarter of the post glows black with rot. I snatch a rag and wipe at it to no effect. The decay is too deep in the wood.

  I touch my hand on it. There’s vitality there, where the rest of the wood is without. Decay is alive.

  I [Leech Grip] once, long and hard, watching the decay diminish into nothing. Durable wood remains, though missing a chunk.

  Vitality runs up my arm and into me, but something is different.

  My body shakes and my vision falters. I cough, hacking at something stuck in me, something I cannot choke out.

  Rot Infection. Vitality diminished.

  I’m sick to my stomach, though vomiting will be of no help.

  I slide my hand into my pocket, the one with the moss from the day before. It’s wilted, but still has vitality. I [Leech Grip] until it becomes ash.

  My vision clears. The pain subsides. I can breathe again. The rot infection vanishes.

  I collapse.

  Hours later I lift my head, surrounded by darkness.

  I stand, awkward at first, still groggy. I open the shed door to let in moonlight, then climb up to my loft. When I lie down, I feel the dried moss crunch in my pocket.

  I cannot sleep, not yet. After climbing down the ladder from the loft, I carry my old ragged clothes outside, beyond the village. They wrap the dead moss.

  I have no shovel, so I dig out a small hole with my knife, then bury the clothes and moss. I will always carry vitality with me from now on, but I cannot show people the truth.

  I’m startled by the caw of a raven, which sits on a branch close to my hole.

  I stare at it as it watches me. There’s a glow in its eyes, and it has no creature name or level. It caws once more before taking flight, back towards the village.