The gate deposits me on a different side of the dungeon than the one I came in by, and I have to carefully circle around to try to find our campsite. How long were they watching us? They might have noticed I was with the group and be on a lookout for me. I do my best to sneak through the undergrowth back to where we’d set up camp.

The camp has been ransacked, and Uncle Hawk is nowhere in sight. The tent has been knocked over and torn, and our provisions taken. Now I’m starting to get really worried. Before, I was doing the only thing I could to proceed, getting through the dungeon. I’d really hoped Uncle Hawk was still out here and could find the others. But now, aside from a three-eyed four-eared kitten, I’m on my own.

It’s several hours walk to the nearest Hearth. My 5 Stamina is equivalent to a less active child twice my age, but that’s still a four-year-old and not especially impressive. I could probably make it back there, but I’d still have to rest regularly. We crossed two streams on the way here with old stone bridges over them, so I think I can manage water. The sensible thing to do would be to go to the nearest Hearth and get help. They’ll assemble a rescue team and track down my mom and cousins, I’m sure.

This would not be the sort of thing that would get me a Deed, however. And it would greatly delay getting any help to them when every moment might count. I take a deep breath and inspect the area for any sign of where Uncle Hawk or the others might have been taken.

The same clawed humanoid feet left tracks all over the ground around the camp. Sadly, Daisy brought a plant identification book, not a monster track identification book, and it’s still with her regardless. There’s signs of them dragging something heavy, probably Uncle Hawk, as well as clawed tracks and drag marks coming out from the entrance to the dungeon. It might not actually be that difficult to track them. They clearly weren’t trying to be very stealthy, once their ambush was complete.

I follow the trail left by the creatures through disturbed mud and trampled foliage. The trees around me sway and rustle in regular strong gusts, but the birds are silent and the small animals of the forest are in hiding.

After creeping through the brush until the skymotes turn yellow, I hear sounds ahead of me. Voices echoing through the forest, but not human voices. They’re high-pitched and rough, and I can’t understand a word they’re saying.

I try climbing a tree to get a good look ahead of me, but it takes a few attempts to find one that my small statue, lack of claws, and level 1 Athletics (Climbing) skill can handle.

In a break in the trees, a small outpost lies ahead of me. Tents made of bone and hide cluster around a campfire. Off to one side sits a large, crude cage containing several human-sized figures. A man, three women, and a child. The goblins themselves also have violet auras, indicating that they’re people and not monsters. I’m not sure what the distinction really is, but they’re still people who are doing bad things.

The cages are located off the beaten path just enough that they’re not in immediate view of most of the goblins working around the village, but there’s hardly a lot of cover near them. They’re still in plain view of enough goblins that this could be a problem. At least there’s room enough behind the cages that they and the people themselves can cover their view of us. I sneak up behind the cage, Mipsy creeping at my side.

You have discovered Skullburn Outpost. Your Subterfuge (Sneaking) skill has increased to level 3.

“Hi Mom,” I whisper.

“Drake!” Mom hisses. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting you out of here,” I say softly.

Mom’s face rapidly cycles through several expressions before saying, “Uncle Hawk’s been cursed. He can barely move, never mind fight or run. And I got hit with anti-magic poison.”

I utter a naughty word.

“Not that kind of curse,” Mom says. “Someone’s coming. Hide!”

Mipsy and I duck back into the bushes as a group of armed goblins comes up to the cage. Two of them point spears at the group while the third opens the cage and two more drag Uncle Hawk out. They lock the cage again and tie the Ranger up to a pole by the arms and legs. Four of them carry him off, and half the goblins leave the outpost to escort the group.

Skill acquired: Subterfuge (Hiding)

I find a rock the size of two of my tiny fists with one sharpish edge I figure I could use for a weapon or tool. I sneak up behind the sole goblin now guarding the cage and bring the rock down as hard as I can on his head.

You have defeated a Goblin Guardian. Skill acquired: Striking (Rock)

It feels a little undignified that my first ‘weapon’ skill is the most primitive one in existence, but whatever. I’m sure it’ll still help. I bring out the lockpick I found in the Hedge Maze and hurriedly get to work on the lock before anyone notices something’s wrong. Luckily, this one is even easier than the hatch on the Corwen Hearth tower.

You have picked a Trivial difficulty lock.

The three captives hurry to un-capture themselves before any goblins notice us messing around. We regroup in the nearby bushes.

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“I’m not leaving without my book!” Daisy whispers. “We’ve got to get our stuff back.”

“Where is it?” I ask.

“They took our things to that tent over there.” Daisy points. “I don’t have any Subterfuge skills, though.”

“I have level 3 in Subterfuge (Sneaking),” I say.

“You’ve been busy,” Mom says. “But it’s still too dangerous for a baby. It’s crazy you’ve come this far. Meadow should escort you and Daisy back to the Hearth.”

“No way!” Daisy says. “I need a Deed and this is my best opportunity!”

Mom sighs. “Fine, but Drake’s just a baby.”

“I’m reincarnated,” I admit. “Many times over, in fact.”

Everyone stares at me.

“Oh,” Mom says. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“You’re not mad?” I ask. “One of the older kids was talking about how they had to kill a kid who’d gotten possessed.”

“You’re not possessed,” Mom says. “I mean, sort of, I guess. But there’s never really been another Drake Corwen so it’s not the same thing. No wonder you’ve been learning skills so fast.”

“If I don’t need to take Drake to safety, I’m not going to abandon my uncle or miss out on a Deed either,” Meadow adds.

“What about me?” Burdock asks. “I’m not a baby. I have a familiar and class skills and everything! I can help!”

“Alright,” Mom says. “Your mom is going to kill me, but I guess we’re doing this, then. Daisy, do you know how to make a potion to cure the poison they hit me with? Surely you’ve unlocked Crafting (Potions), right?”

“Yes, but it’s not very high,” Daisy says. “And I’ll need my book to even know what to mix.”

“I can sneak in and grab it,” I say.

“We could use a distraction,” Mom says. “Meadow, can you start a fire on the far side of camp?”

“I am not setting a forest fire just to distract some goblins,” Meadow says.

Mipsy has already taken it into her own paws to cause a distraction like only a cat can. I wait for a few seconds after she starts causing chaos, and slip in behind the tent in question.

The violet vis of someone inside indicates not everyone got distracted by the distraction, though. I crawl underneath the back of the tent. The guard turns to look as I come in, but his spear hits the edge of the tent as he tries to point it at me. I slam my trusty bloody rock into his face.

You have defeated a Goblin Guardian.

There’s a crude wooden chest inside the tent. Locked, of course. I get to work with my lockpick. With the skill in my mind, I have this odd sensation of knowing how to do something without really knowing how to do it. Surely playing The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion didn’t actually teach me how to pick a lock, but the system doesn’t care. Fine, I’m in a world that runs on silly video game logic, and if a toddler can become a master thief for some reason, I might as well just run with it.

You have picked a Trivial difficulty lock.

The chest contains four backpacks. Looks like the goblins didn’t bother to actually sift through our belongings. I can’t carry them all, so I just stick two sheathed daggers in my belt and grab Daisy’s book. I abandon my rock here as I can’t carry both it and the huge book at the same time, and crawl back out under the back of the tent.

The others are waiting where I left them, and I pass the book to Daisy and hand Mom one of the daggers, keeping the other.

“Mipsy ran off into the bushes on the far side of camp,” Burdock says. “At least four goblins were chasing her. I hope she’ll be okay.”

“If not, she’s a monster,” Mom says. “She can respawn. We can’t.”

Daisy flips through the pages of her big plant book. “We’ll need jewelweed. I’ll probably only need a couple. Everyone keep an eye out for a flower that looks like this.” She points to the picture of an orange flower.

“Jewelweed, got it,” Mom says.

“We’ll also need mystic moss to amplify the healing properties in the flower.” She flips through the book again. “It looks like this. Look for a faint bluish glow on the northwest side of trees.”

“And if we can get my magic working again, I can burn this camp to the ground so we can retrieve the rest of our stuff,” Mom says.

“And try not to start a forest fire in the process?” Meadow adds.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Drake, while we’re looking for flowers, I don’t suppose it would be good much to ask for you to go back and grab some sort of container that can hold liquid?” Daisy asks. “Our cookpot will suffice.”

“On it,” I say.

I wish she’d just said, “Drake, go get the cookpot.” While Mipsy is still leading some of the goblins on a merry chase through the forest, that was like thirty words more than strictly necessary. If we survive this, I’ll need to tell her to save the word count for school essays.

Another goblin has come to investigate the storage tent. I pull out my dagger and crawl under the tent the same way I did before, and lunge forward to slash at the goblin.

He tumbles out of the way, more alert than the last two goblins. This goblin isn’t wielding a spear, but a stone knife. And unlike me, he actually knows how to use it. We’re the same size, and my weapon is longer and much sharper, but that doesn’t mean being cut with a stone knife doesn’t still hurt. And he’s more agile and has probably been using that sharp rock on a handle his entire life.

(I strongly suspect that I have lived a lot of short, violent lives.)

Skill acquired: Recollection (Insight) Skill acquired: Discipline (Battle Trance)

The goblin slashes his knife at my throat, but it seems to move in slow motion compared to my thoughts. I don’t think I’m strong enough to block, so I drop to the ground and the swing whooshes above my head. Then a vertical slash, which I roll out of the way of into one of the tent supports. Just bumping it isn’t enough to bring it down, but a slash of my dagger does the trick.

Being at the edge and expecting it, I pull myself out of the tent first. I stomp on the edge of the hide and bury my dagger in the lump where the goblin had been standing. The hide takes the brunt of the blow, though it does pierce all the way through, so I stab a few more times for good measure, and then keep stabbing until the tent stops moving.

You have defeated a Goblin Warrior. Skill acquired: Striking (Dagger)

The Battle Trance fades and I look down at the bloody blade in my hand and the hide tent with numerous bloody punctures.

I have gained a lot of skills and I have a new goal in life. Survive to adulthood. Because I’m absolutely certain that these goblins didn’t wind up here by accident. And I strongly suspect that the crystalline entities that run this world didn’t spawn an isekai protagonist just to let his life be boring.

Corwen offers no commentary.

I cut a slash through the hide above the chest, grab the cookpot and make a break for the trees. The tent being converted into a pile of bloody hide pretty much did it for my stealth. Now I just need to get away.