The first day is pretty uneventful. Much of the area beyond the road is well managed as we pass by land cultivated by several of the village’s farms.

Naomi managed well for much of the morning, but by lunch, she was complaining her feet were sore. I suggested we stop for a break to let her rest.

With an over-exaggerated moaning sigh, she flopped down on the ground and went to pull off her boots.

“Don’t do that, Naomi.”

She looked up at me with questioning eyes.

“But they ache so much, and my boots hurt.”

“And if you take them off, your feet will swell up, and then you won’t be able to put them back on again.” I put down the pack in front of a nearby rock. “Sit here, lean against the stone, and put your legs up on the pack. That will ease the aching.”

‘Wearing in new boots is never fun.’ I can’t help but think.

“Will they always hurt?” she asks morosely, glaring at her feet as she sat once more.

“No, for a day or two more maybe, as you get used to all this walking. Then you will start getting stronger and your legs tougher,” Elara said, joining the conversation.

“Ok, I guess.” The poor girl sounded so glum, I gave her some bread and cold meats to chow down on, then passed out some to Misty and Elara.

I lit a small fire and put on water to boil for tea.

After an hour or so, I doused the fire and packed up the camp.

Naomi was melodramatically hobbling, but I am not a total tyrant, so I lifted her up and sat her high on my shoulders.

“There, you can be our lookout. But you have to point out anything you see from up there, deal?”

“Deal,” she giggles.

We continue downriver, and the area slowly returns to a more natural and wild state. Naomi is dutiful in her scouting duties, pointing out interesting animals and birds, at one point even a big rock that looked, she said, like a fat pig. As she pointed and excitedly called out, I would dutifully look and Identify, adding mentally to my knowledge base of this land.

I learned that the not-deer we had at Jake’s for dinner was called a Dinkus, and we saw three groups of them, usually a few females and maybe a fawn or two with a stag looking out for them.

“Funnips!” she shouted excitedly, pointing to the side, where a meadow had several of the creatures lazing about in it.

‘So that’s what those meat-eating bunnies are called.’ Pleased at last to put a name to them.

“Mummy tells me we shouldn’t play with them though,” she tells me solemnly.

“She said they are fun when they’re small, then they nip off your finger for dinner.” She gives a little shiver.

I burst out laughing.

“That seems like wise advice.” And I feel her nodding sagely.

‘I hunt,’ Misty tells me and disappears off into the undergrowth.

We continue on down the road for another couple of minutes, then we turn at the sound of a frightful high-pitched squeal.

What had been fields full of funnips were now empty, bar the rapidly settling dust thrown up by the scattering creatures.

Sauntering out towards us, dragging a large funnip, is Misty.

‘Dinner.’ She informs me, dropping a carcass bigger than her at my feet.

“I guess we get to find out how they taste then,” I say to the others.

Having done her duty as a self-appointed food provider, Misty jumps up and lands on Elara’s shoulder before draping herself around her neck and going to sleep.

I look at Elara and smile sheepishly.

‘Only fair, Del, our passenger is the heavier.’

I do worry myself sometimes. Is it that I have spent too many years on my own and just got into silly habits?

Or do I genuinely have someone or something else inside me?

I am sure, were I ever to find myself on some leather couch looking at a bespectacled bearded man holding a clipboard...

‘Isn’t that just a bit overly clichéd?’

‘Be quiet, I wasn’t asking you.’

Anyway, where was I?

Damn, my mind was wandering again, but hey, it’s got me this far, and sometimes the advice I give myself is good advice.

We continue on, time measured by the passage of the sun and the changing scenery around us. Further up the valley, the land had been dense with woodland, the canopy thick and the air rich with the earthy scent of decaying leaves and damp soil.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Now, the valley begins to widen and flatten, its character shifting. The slopes still bear clusters of trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, but the valley floor opens into a landscape reminiscent of a Scottish vale from my homeland.

The air carries a faint sweetness from low scrubby bushes mingled with the sharper tang of brambles. Tough grasses whisper as they sway, punctuated by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures darting through thickets.

The river was also getting wider, its pebbled bed less visible beneath the increasingly thick weeds wafting in the current. Fish that looked much like trout swim and hunt insects that buzz and flit across the surface.

‘I need a rod.’ An idle thought, but a true one. I wonder if I can make one but dismiss the idea. I will just buy one at the next town.

In the meantime, Misty is a good ‘fishercat’, and Elara also proved adept at bow hunting.

‘You are being a bit misogynistic, Del, expecting the ladies to look after your needs.’ I take a sharp inward look at that thought.

‘Bullcrap, that’s just delegating to those better suited to the task. Equality and all that woke shit,’ I argue back, yet in the background, I hear the mocking laugh in reply.

Fed up with myself, I stop at a nice open area suitable for the tents.

“Let’s set up for the night,” I say, a tad grumpily. Elara gives me a bit of an odd look but doesn’t comment. She just puts Misty and her pack down before taking out her skin to refill at the river.

Once the tents were set up, I allowed Naomi to take off her boots and sent her to wash her feet in the river. She did this with eager gusto, and when she got back, I gently dried her feet, inspected the blisters, and applied some feldspar ointment.

“There, that should do it, and they will toughen up quickly,” I tell her with a smile.

Pulling up her feet to inspect them, she grins at me.

“Thanks, Del, you’re the best.” Then she runs off to play chase with Misty.

“Watch out for funnips,” I call after her.

I untie dinner from where I had hung it from my pack and get out my skinning knife. Time to see if I was any better with a crazy rabbit than I was with a giant pig. As I inspect the creature and make my first cut, I can feel eyes on me and look up to see Elara watching.

“You haven’t done much of this, have you?” she states simply.

“Is it that obvious?”

She nods at me with an impish smile.

“I told you, a wise fool. I’m not sure how someone who seems to know so much knows so little of the basic stuff,” she winks at me. “I blame your parents. Now give me that knife before you ruin dinner or cut off your finger.”

I don’t argue with that at all and pass her the knife.

What follows is like a skinning 101 lesson. She shows me the correct way to open the abdomen to reveal the contents while not piercing anything that will taint the meat.

Then, with a few deft cuts, the skin can be peeled off. None of the hacking I had done with the boar.

What we are left with is a neatly gutted and skinned funnip with plenty of offal to keep Misty happy.

I take the pelt, and with Elara’s instruction and supervision, carefully wash it before laying it on a rock to dry.

Soon, the aromas of a spit-roasting funnip waft up from the fire as I chop up some tubers Naomi had dug up. Apparently, the children back at Stonebridge often had fun competing to find the biggest roots for the cook pot.

I considered how far we had travelled—not too bad but behind what we had expected due to Naomi’s lower stamina and sore feet.

‘Altogether, not bad though, Del.’ I reassure myself as I drop the tubers into boiling water.

I sit back, feeling pretty content, and look over at the girls. Naomi is sat close to Elara, who is telling her a story from her own childhood. Misty is at her feet. I’m not sure if she is also listening, but she is most definitely enjoying her chunks of liver and kidney.

‘You know, Del, there are far worse places to be,’ I consider, giving the spit another turn.

‘As long as there are no crazy wizards,’ I moderate my earlier thoughts.

“Food’s ready,” I tell the others and start to serve up the steaming plates.

“Alright, it’s not Donna’s, but it’s not bad for trail grub,” I comment as I start to tuck in.

The food is hot and filling. The funnip was a bit gamey but very tender, and the juices ran freely, coating the tubers—strag roots, identify had informed me. The smell matches the taste and is rich and inviting.

I sit back, replete and satisfied.

“That was altogether not bad,” I say.

Naomi nods through her last mouthfuls, and Elara agrees with a subtle burp, which causes both of them to giggle.

As the sun starts to set, we settle Naomi into one of the tents.

“It’s been a good start to our trip,” Elara says as I poke the fire to encourage its flames.

“Mhmm,” I agree. “We have a long way to go, though. Do you know much about the land ahead?”

She shakes her head. “No, very little. I was never privy to the reports of our emissaries, and I was too young to be involved in the scouts’ conversations.”

“Then it shall be a learning experience together.”

“You really haven’t spent much time in the wild before, have you, Del?”

I look at her and chuckle.

“My life before I landed on Gondowa was quiet, to say the least. I was injured a while back, and although it is better now, for a long time, I could do very little. Before that, I lived in a quiet town doing mostly administrative work. I got my food from a market, had a roof over my head and a fire to keep me warm. The most dangerous thing I had to deal with was Misty’s claws if she decided my leg made a good scratching post.”

She nods along as I tell her as much and as close to the truth as I can. She deserves no less from me.

“It does explain a lot,” she says as I finish. “The Wirral and the Dosha is you all over.”

‘Damnit, here we go again. What the fuck is a Wirral or a dosha?’

“Well,” she tells me, “I am tired, so I’m going to head for bed.”

“I'll join you in a moment, I just want to enjoy the stars for a bit longer.”

“Well, don’t go making me all cold just as I get the bed warmed up,” she warns with a chuckle.

I lie back on the grass, Misty coming up to join me, her purr loud in the quiet of the evening air.

‘You have a simple life,’ I tell her.

‘Hmph,’ she disagrees. ‘Worry about what is, then kill or run.’

I guffaw and get up. “Goodnight, Misty.” And head for the tent.

Some hours later, I get woken by her urgent mental nudge.

‘Kill or run time.’