I wake to sunlight peeking through slats in the sides of the shed. The air smells of early morning dew. My neck aches, my head’s woozy, and I’m more sitting than lying down. My arms feel leaden, awkwardly positioned behind me. I go to roll onto my side to get more comfortable.

‘What the hell…?’ I struggle, and my mind snaps into focus. I’m bound in some way, half-sitting up against one of the support struts in the shed. I look around wildly. ‘Where the fuck is Elara?’ I take a breath, attempting to keep tight control over my rising panic. ‘Shit,’ and several other, more colourful expletives fill my mind.

I feel a tentative push against my spiralling thoughts. ‘Misty?’ I grab hold of that anchor in reality, hauling myself back under control. I wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all myself, if I dissolved into a festering pool of anxiety and panic.

‘Get a goddamn grip, Del, and let’s figure a way out of this crap pile.’ I look up towards where I feel Misty’s thoughts emanating from and see her, tail swishing in agitation, perched on a roof beam.

‘Hey, girl,’ I think to her through our mind link, ‘any idea what’s going on?’ I can’t believe I’m getting used to communicating with my damn cat beyond the usual meows when she’s hungry or wants a fuss. It’s surreal and bizarre, to say the least.

I get back a feeling, almost an image—hazy and indistinct—of a large man shape with something, possibly a smaller man shape, slung over his shoulder, and the dog shape alongside them, heading off away from the cabin.

‘Okay, so it looks like one of them has taken Elara somewhere, and the other one’s still here?’ I question and get a quiet mew of affirmation. I pull at my bonds—rough rope of some kind. “Any help would be welcome,” I mutter quietly. Behind me, I hear a soft thump as Misty jumps down, and then I feel the rough wetness of her tongue and teeth as she starts to bite and chew at the rope. My wrists are sore, and the headache I’d been ignoring is pounding at the back of my skull like a demented drummer boy.

‘The bastards must have drugged me,’ I think angrily. I’m normally a light sleeper and would certainly have woken when dragged across the floor and tied up.

‘And what the hell do they want with Elara?’ I can’t imagine my prospects are wholesome either. They just haven’t got around to dealing with me yet, but they’re certainly not planning to shake my hand and wave me on my way—not after this. I keep a steady strain on the rope, helping Misty get through it as much as I’m able, until, with a sudden jerk, the rope gives, and my arms are free.

I get to my feet, go to the door, and listen carefully, shaking out the numbness in my arms and wrists as I do. All seems quiet, so I scan the room. The place where we’d left our gear is noticeable in its complete absence of said items.

‘Drugged, robbed, and probably about to be murdered,’ I snarl inwardly. ‘What the hell gives with the arseholes in this damn place?’ I continue listening, hearing nothing but the wind and the occasional creak of the building. The silence doesn’t comfort me; if anything, it heightens my tension, giving me nothing to go on in assessing my predicament more fully.

‘So, Del, no weapon.’ I spot a useful length of wood, about the size of a cricket bat. ‘That’ll help.’

“Misty, is there another way out besides the door?” I ask her in a whisper. She pads over to a small gap at the base of the wall where some of the wood planking has rotted. I feel her letting me know that’s where she got in.

I gently try the door—it gives slightly, then stops. From the feel of it, I’d guess either a hasp lock or a bar secured it. There’s no other door or window that I can see, so I look up at the roof to gauge if that might provide some option.

Across many of the beams, planks are stacked, and some sort of pulley system seems to be used as a hoist to get things up to the higher level. A ladder rests against a crude mezzanine shelf area near the wall of the adjoining house. I carefully climb it, aware of the risk of making noise. The longer whoever stayed behind thinks I’m out of it, the better. Once I reach the shelf area, I see it’s pretty sturdy and used as extended storage for offcuts and bits of broken furniture. What grabs my attention is that, in the wall and hidden from sight down below, is a small crawl-through to the house attic.

‘Misty, get up here,’ I send, and in a moment, she’s beside me. I point out the opening, and she slinks off to investigate. If there’s a hatch through to the house, then we could be in business.

As I wait, I gently massage my wrists and hands, easing the pins and needles that have developed as the circulation returns. The ropes had been bound tight, leaving deep red indents on my wrists from the rough treatment they’d received. My eyes are on the crawl opening, my mind on my battered wrists, and I almost miss the quiet thunk from below as the bar across the door is removed.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘Oh, shit!’ I hunker down as best I can and tense, ready to jump down.

Bran walks in, a wicked knife in hand that I instantly recognise as one of mine.

“What the hell’s…?” he grunts, looking at the empty post and discarded ropes. “Where the heck did you…?” I land, bat already swinging, and with a loud crack, I smack it as hard as I can into his head. He doesn’t even get a chance to grunt as he collapses in a heap on the ground. I drop my improvised weapon, my arms sore from the reverberation of the blow.

‘Damn, that went better than expected,’ I breath out hard with relief. I look up and see Misty peering down at me. “Fancy having a nose outside, see if it’s clear out there?” I ask her.

She jumps down, landing next to Bran, gives him a sniff, and then saunters outside, her tail flicking side to side as she goes.

I bend down to inspect the man. He’s still breathing, but it’s ragged and bubbling. Near his ear, there’s a dent, oozing bloody fluid, and blood is also running from his ears and nose. He won’t be waking up soon, if at all. I reclaim my knife and his pouch, quickly checking his pockets—nothing of interest apart from an iron key. As I finish searching him, he flops onto his back, his breathing becomes even more burbling, and I consider putting him on his side. I’d learned that once in a first aid course at work, supposed to keep the airway clear. In a past life, it would have been high on my list of priorities, but now?

“Fuck him,” I say. He had no good intentions for me; if he drowns on his own gore, then shit happens. I feel a mental nudge from Misty—it seems all is clear outside—so I leave Bran to his rasping and head out of the shed.

The cat is sitting on the porch by the open front door, casually grooming herself in a way only cats can truly get away with.

‘Best decision I ever made,’ I muse. ‘Insisting you came along.’ I smile ironically at the thought. ‘Del, if you’d known, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for that ginger furball.’ I chuckle to myself. ‘Many times over in just a few days.’ I sit down beside her, spending a couple of minutes tussling and scratching her belly as she bats my hand in playful mock attack. I feel the tension ease from my shoulders, a moment of calm settling over my mind.

“All right, that’s enough of that,” I say as I stand. “Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on and where they’ve taken Elara.”

I begin systematically searching the house, and I’m not neat about it. I pull open drawers, emptying their contents, rifling through anything I can find. Mostly just ledgers for their woodcutting business and some old letters that hold no interest. Our gear is easy to find—it’s piled on the table in the kitchen where we’d eaten last night. In a cupboard, I find an almost empty bottle of some liquid that smells of Sombercap and something else I can’t place. I’d guess this was what we’d been drugged with. Sombercap has a paralysing effect, and I’d assume the other ingredient sent us deep into the land of slumber. I pocket the vial and its remaining contents.

‘Never know when that might come in handy,’ and continue my rummaging.

Upstairs are just two messy bedrooms with rough furniture and rougher bedding, the floors littered with dirty clothes. The rooms smell of sweat and unwashed feet—not pleasant, so I don’t linger.

Back downstairs, I raid the pantry, filling my pack with bread, dried meats, and cheese. A decent few days’ dinners are the least these bastards owe me. In the back of the pantry, at ground level, there’s a door about two feet high. I open it and inside find an iron-bound chest.

‘Bran’s key?’ I think and pull it out to try. The lock is stiff, but it gives way to my pressure, and with a loud click, it turns, and I’m able to open the chest. The contents are anticlimactic, to say the least—some copper and tin coins plus my first silver coin. I’ve no idea of the currency’s value here, but I’m sure I’ll find out and get suitably fleeced by some charlatan before I learn any better.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I go through what I’ve gathered. I’ve got mine and Elara’s weapons, so I put the bandolier of throwing knives back on and re-equip my vambrace and pauldron, before slinging on my sword belt. Slinging the bow and quiver over my shoulders, I feel ready to face the world once more.

‘And what a shit world it is, Del. Bloody dinos did this place a favour when they took over.’ I open the door and hear a hiss from Misty.

Looking up, I hear rasping wheezes and see a very wobbly, bleary-eyed Bran gripping hard onto the shed door frame to stop himself toppling over.

“Man, you look a mess,” I say as I unsling my bow. “Still, well done on being able to take a hit like a man.” With a zing, my arrow covers the distance in a brief second, and he collapses, dead to the floor, an arrow sticking up from his chest. I look at his body briefly. What sort of man am I becoming, that taking a life is becoming so cheap?

‘Damnit, Del, stay focused.’ There’s more at stake here than just some damned idiots who wanted to kill me and kidnap Elara.

[You have killed human tradesman, Experience gained]

I re-sling my bow, pull the house door closed behind me, and follow Misty as she leads me off downstream in the direction Seth had taken.