It shouldn't be possible for someone to die so quickly, and yet, here I am. I think I've still got a bit of thought left in me, but there's not much to do with it. I can't feel my body, or hear anyone, or see anything. Or, well, sense anything of any kind at all.

Dead.

I try to think back to what just happened, how I just died. But I can't. There's nothing there. I reach and grasp for anything in my mind, but nothing. Nothing but words, words, and more words. Disconnected and irrelevant, holding no coherent meaning. Any meaningful thoughts I try to find, new or old, come up as meaningless word stew. Nothing but nouns, adjective, verbs, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions... but no sense, all nonsense. My senses are gone, not just those of my body, but those of mind as well. Nothing remains but an endless ocean of notions and words.

Dead.

It flickers on for a moment.

Dead.

I think I can see something. It's not much, and maybe I'm hallucinating, but there's something. Is my brain malfunctioning as it finishes running out of fuel? Out of oxygen? I can't tell you. But what I can tell you is—

DEAD

Red text, all caps, no period, "dead".

So this is the end, huh.

I would've liked to go on a little longer. At least to play a few more games or watch a few more movies. Maybe eat another burger or two.

But it was all so sudden that I had no chance to have any "last"s or "final"s. No last meal, no last words, no final dates or good-byes, nothing. Just the end.

I grit my teeth and stare at the all-caps "dead".

...I think. Not totally sure what's happening right now.

This shouldn't be the end. I don't want it to be. There should be more than this. I want there to be more. I want to live more. Just a little longer. At least a single good-bye.

Good-bye to who? I can't remember. But I can feel it. There was something for me to say good-bye to. And now I can't. It's such a shame.

Dead.

I close my eyes and think.

...Okay, look, there's nothing here. It's all metaphorical. I'm not even sure that I'm actually thinking. It's just, if I don't put it to myself in these terms, I'm not sure I'll be able to make any sense of it at all.

But it's no good. No matter how much I try to whip myself into a more coherent state, nothing comes to me, I can't remember anything, and I can't get at my senses or anything at all. If my body is out there somewhere, not-quite-yet dead, my mind over here is far too gone to get at it. So, I'm sorry, me, but if you're out there somewhere, you're going to have to figure it out on your own. My own? Whatever.

I open my eyes again, whatever "open my eyes" means.

But this time, I see something. Or feel it. Or know it.

A short girl with white hair, holding a black sword in hand, faces off against a monster with decaying zombie-like features. A couple of numbers cross my eyes, and they worry me.

Her health and fatigue are almost empty. That's bad. Really bad. I try to "right click" or "press Esc" or "press i" for some reason, but nothing happens. I don't even know why I tried to do those things, or what it would mean to do them. Probably a habit from my time alive.

Either way, she's done for. Completely outmatched. There's no way out of this for her. That much is clear to me. How did she get into this situation? Why is she here? And why isn't she running away? All of these questions are going to become meaningless in mere seconds.

As she holds back her sword in preparation for another attack, a foul energy hits her, and she instinctively holds up her left arm to try to shield herself from it. I guess this energy is the monster's version of swingback, or something.

The monster screeches, unleashing foul magicks that even the most proud and powerful of heroes would rightfully fear. And those magicks pass right through her magical protections, her arm, her armor, and her body, destroying all of it from the inside out.

Direct hit.

...And that's it. The end. Game over. Her body collapses to the ground, convulsing and shaking before finally going limp and dead-eyed.

Dead.

Just like me.

That's not good enough. There has to be more. There has to be a way out of this. There has to be a do-over. This isn't right.

Through my anxiety and fury, something comes out of me. Some kind of action, or statement, or action-statement. Something like that. I'm not level-headed right now, so I'm not sure how it happened. But here it is, spelled out in plain white text on a transparent black background, with a little button under it.

With your death, the prophecy has been broken. Reload a save or start a new game to bring hope back to this doomed world.

Current save count: 0

Current reload count: 0

Load　　　　New Game　　　　Quit

My last gift, a present from one unfortunate dead sob to another. At the very least, I had a chance to do something when I died. Heh. Not as good as the final words I wanted to give to my sister, but it'll do.

----------------------------------------

It's a clear-skied night, under the full moon. All the grasshoppers and other insects making their noises, blending out into the forest, fill out the soundscape, and the wind blows through the trees.

A black bird hops out into the road. Half way across, it stops, watches to the left, and sees a big wooden thing coming along. It hops along, getting out of the way. And then the big wooden thing comes along and crushes the nut it left behind on a convenient rock. It goes back and pecks away at it, happy that it didn't have to spend time dropping it on rocks to get it open.

A girl with brown hair and dog ears sleeps on a thin layer of hay in a locked carriage, her hands tied behind her back with tough rope. As the carriage jumps a little, like it crossed over a nasty rock or something, she gains consciousness a little. Her eyes open to a musty and cold compartment filled to the brim with other people just like her, trapped.

How did she get here, she asks herself, trying to remember.

Ah. That's right.

It was just another day living in a small town near the border, when the neighboring country's army invaded. And they got decimated. And all the surviving women and children got split up, sold into slavery, and sent off to distant lands. And she found herself in the possession of an organization of smugglers. And then they sold her and a bunch of other slaves off to some weird quasi-legal organization, to which they're on their way right now.

It's all so complicated and stupid, and she doesn't want any of it. She just wants to go back to her former life, hanging out on the farm, picking corn and singing songs with her family friends.

But that's all gone now. And she's far, far away, without any way to find anyone she used to know or go back.

There's no going back.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The carriage stops. What? This carriage doesn't set up camp. They just keep taking turns driving.

She nervously sits up, staring out a crack in the locked back doors of the compartment. Yep, nothing's moving, they're stopped, she's not just hallucinating.

Wait.

She sees an illumination washing over the road. She can't see the light it's coming from, but she can definitely see the road getting lit up.

What's happening?

A voice yells outside. Another one yells in return. And suddenly, the carriage starts moving again. Fast. She tumbles over, and so do a few of the other slaves. Everyone wakes up, and there's a lot of yelling and flailing. At some point, the girl gets tossed straight into the locked door, back-first, putting stressing out the metal bits keeping it closed. They don't quite bend or break, but they're close to giving. Of course, she's still topsy-turvy, and has no way of caring about this.

A loud exploding sound shocks the front end of the carriage, setting its draft animals free and causing the carriage to slow down and stop.

She picks herself up off the ground with her left hand and sits up straight.

The carriage stopping is followed by more yelling. And by metallic clanging sounds. It's like there's some kind of fighting, she thinks. And everyone else thinks the same.

Did they get attacked by bandits? Did the slavers get attacked by adventurers? What's going to happen to them? The atmosphere is mixed. Some people seem to be hoping for freedom. Others are more worried, since bandits are the sort to attack during night, not adventurers.

She sits and waits. Not like she can do much with her hands tied.

With her... hands... tied...?

Her hands aren't bound anymore.

She doesn't know when it happened, but something broke one of the winds of rope around her wrists, and the whole thing came unraveled.

She's free.

She turns back and looks at the rest of the slaves. Their eyes are all on her, glowing in the small amount of moonlight shining through the gap between the carriage's back doors.

"...I'm sorry."

They look at her for a second, then turn and look at one another.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I don't want to be here."

Silence.

And taking a closer look at the metal bits keeping the doors together, they really are almost busted. She picks up a loose piece of lumber—the only thing she can find for the job—and jams it between the doors. It should only take one really good push to break it all open. And so she pushes. Gently, at first, to make sure the lumber isn't weak, and then all at once.

Snap.

The lumber broke.

"Oh no."

It's too short now. She won't have enough leverage. She can tell, based on how it felt to push earlier.

A human boy stands up and walks over to her, his hands still bound behind his back.

"Ya just need to push harder now, right? Untie me and I'll help."

Nervously, she tries to untie him. The knot is tight, so it takes a minute, but she manages it. After that, she picks up the loose half and jams it along with the other.

"Get ready. One, two..."

Three.

They push hard together, and the whole thing comes apart, latch and all.

A bit of cheerful commotion behind them, but the boy turns back and shushes them.

"Thanks. Sorry. Bye."

And the dog girl jumps out through the back door, running down the road and into the woods, without ceremony.

"...I'll untie you. But someone who can help untie people first," the boy says to the rest of them.

A different boy stands up. "I'll help." A couple other people stand up. He starts with them.

The slaves slowly untie each other, some of them waiting to figure out if it was adventurers or bandits attacking the carriage, others running off down the street like the dog girl did. And the fighting continues.

Whatever their fate was, the dog girl would never know.

Her trail is rough. If you can even call it a trail. Like it's a deer trail or something. Do those count, she asks herself, making sure not to lose her footing. It's good that she can see well in the dark.

...This might've been a mistake. She could've just jogged up out front of the carriage and figured out what the fuss was all about. If it was adventurers doing adventurer things, she could've been saved. Probably. Oh, what does she know.

Before she knows it, she finds herself completely lost, with no sense of direction and no idea which direction she came from.

"Is the moon still out? Can I follow it?"

She looks up through the canopy, but the moon is obscured by the clouds. And because it's that time of year when the moon is straight up in the sky, and the moon is at its peak, she can't tell which direction it's leaning from the light it shines through the clouds. She'd have to wait a couple hours for it to come back down a bit before she can follow it, or for the clouds to clear up so she can find the north star. Either way, she doesn't have fixed bearings, let alone a compass.

The only thing she can do is wait. At least long enough for the sky to clear up, or for the moon to start falling, so she can go in a fixed direction and find a river or a road.

She finds a clearing with a nice clean log to sit down on, and takes a seat. Finding a clearing is lucky, since she's going to have to watch the sky.

What to think about. The journey here? Confined and devoid of interest. Before that? Well...

Unable to bring up anything that isn't disturbing or depressing in some way, she leans back and closes her eyes.

It is the middle of the night, after all. As long as she doesn't fall asleep...

...Drifting through empty space. Floating, dangling from the firmament, invisible and endless.

It's warm.

What kind of warm?

The kind of warm you feel when you sit close to a camp fire, or a stove.

That kind of reassuring warm, after at long last you come home after a long night lost in a boat on the big lake.

You have a strange dream. You float through empty space for what feels like aeons, before finally returning back to the land you came from. At the end of it, you come upon a magical book, one that records every action you've ever taken, and every experience you've ever had. Rather than shock or horror, you skim through it with casual amusement. Everything adds up, though it's missing the past few days.

The book floats up in front of you and flips its own pages to a new chapter, completely blank. You feel the urge to fill out these new pages with what it's missing, what you've gone through the past couple days. A feather pen appears in your hand, and you move to start writing on the first blank page.

Save your progress up to this point and enable autosaves?

Current save count: 0

Yes　　　　Cancel

In a half-asleep trance, the dog girl makes a motion towards Cancel, out of instinct. But something stops her. Don't bluff, the feeling says to her. So she stops. And, having just enough of her wits about her, she manages to get to Yes instead.

The book's pages fill up with new text, detailing the trials and tribulations of the past few days. Looking over it, you're satisfied with how it's depicted, and nod to yourself, closing the book shut. The book flickers, spins, and floats up for a moment, before shattering into countless magical shards. Those shards fly outwards for a moment, but ultimately become absorbed by your body, filling you with a sense of comfort and fulfillment.

Progress Saved

She writes of her escape, how she managed to get away from the raid without the attackers knowing that she was there, or even that she exists. Just maybe she might develop a great ability to go unnoticed some day, she thinks, musing on the whole thing

The dog girl finally begins to drift back to full sleep, unsure of what really just happened in this dream, or whether it truly was a dream at all. But all of that uncertainty melts away, and she forgets everything that happens while asleep, as people often do.

A couple hours pass, and she wakes up with a blanket over her, laying in a soft bed.

"Bwuh...?"

The dog girl opens her eyes to the dim candle-lit interior of a single-room log cabin. It's warm and still, completely unlike the windy clearing she ended up falling asleep in. Someone shuffles about around a large pot on the other side of the room, making a bit of noise. And then, a few strikes of a scratching clinking sound, followed by some crackling and the gradual growth of a soft red flame.

"Finally awake, girl?"

The dog girl sits up. "Yes."

"That's good. I thought you might've caught a cold. It's dangerous to sleep out in the woods, you know."

"I know, I just..."

The words don't come.

"Hmph. I'm making food, so sit tight."

She must've fallen asleep, and been found and carried here, she finally thinks.

"Thank you."

No response.

The dog girl thinks some about her situation, trying to pull herself together before she might get herself into something she doesn't understand.

"...I'm an escaped slave, won't that—"

"Not a worry, I've already dispelled the charm. Ye won't have anyone claiming to own you no more." She pauses. "That charm was done good. I almost want to ask where ye came from."

"...Who are you?"

"It's bad manners 'round here to ask someone's name before giving your own, girl. But you're in a tough spot, so I get it. I'm Paulownia, Great Witch of Wanderwood. If I hadn't found ye, ye'd be lost for good. Unless the trees took a liking to ye. But not too much of a liking."

"That's scary... Sorry. I'm Shauna. I'm a farm girl."

"Shauna, hm?"

Paulownia goes silent for half a minute to finish cooking. When done, she comes over. "Here."

The witch places a platter with a bowl of some kind of thin stew with boiled vegetables on Shauna's lap, still sitting up in bed with her cover pulled up.

"Thank you."

She takes a hesitant spoonful and looks at the broth. She's not scared, she just... Hasn't had a chance to eat real food in a while. Some of the scents drifting off of it are familiar, so she takes a mouthful, and is rewarded with delightment. She nods to herself. Yep. This is fine.

She slowly finishes off the rest of the stew, analyzing its flavor and what sorts of vegetables are in it as it passes through her mouth. The moment she finishes sipping down the remaining broth, her bodily senses shift a bit, and a weird phrase pops into her head.

Autumn Witherblight Cured

15 Alchemy Experience Gained

Huh? she thinks. But she doesn't think too deeply of it.

"I feel different now. What's up with this stew?"

"I put in some medicinals, in case ye caught anythin' in the woods. Seems like you might've."

"...Thank you. Really."

"Get back to sleep. I've got housework to finish." Paulownia removes the platter from Shauna's lap, and goes back to the other corner of the room to eat for herself and clean up.

Shauna nods and lays down, staring at the ceiling. It's very lucky that she ended up being found, she thinks. And by someone who could dispel her ownership charm, even. And even bothered to cure whatever minor ailment she picked up in the woods. Yeah. Quite lucky.