The smell of smoke was thick and the heat of the flames made my skin tighten.

Desperately, I look around. Where was the door? I can’t tell; the smoke is too thick and oily. I can taste the swirling ash in the back of my throat, making me hack and cough as I fight for breath.

Dropping down to a crouch in hopes of finding some slightly breathable air, I blindly struggle forward, reaching out with my hand, trying to find a wall or, better yet, a door or window. I need to get out—and fast.

I’m sweating profusely; my eyes sting and run with tears that rapidly evaporate, leaving them feeling dry and itchy. My hand touches something metal, instantly blistering my skin with its heat, but I grip it anyway—a door handle.

Yanking the door open, I fall outside and draw in a ragged breath. Even stinking of smoke and flame, it’s cool against my parched throat.

Around me, chaos erupts—people are screaming as they run from burning buildings. Everything seems to be on fire, with pops and bangs filling the air, competing with the roar of flames and the cries of the dying.

Everywhere I look, it’s madness. Men, women, and children are in terrified panic. Those who aren’t already dead, or flailing and screaming as their hair and clothes burn, are making feeble efforts to throw water on the flames.

Too little. Far too little.

I collapse to the ground as the world burns around me.

I cry out as a weight falls across my face. I can’t breathe. I’m being smothered.

With a jerk, I sit up, almost catapulting Misty from where she had lain across me. I look around wildly. The stream burbles sedately on its way, and the nearby trees gently rustle. I’m dripping with sweat, and my heart pounds as the images in my mind slowly dissipate.

“Fuck,” I utter in a shaky voice. On weak legs, I go to the stream and duck my head under for a moment. I strip off my sweat-soaked garments and lay them out on a rock to dry in the afternoon sun. Stepping into the water, I wade out to the middle and sit down in the fast-flowing stream, lying back to let it wash over me.

‘Damn nightmare. Can’t remember the last time I had one of those—and too damn real for my liking.’ After a minute, I feel the cold rinse away the leftover traces of fear and alarm. I climb, shivering slightly, back to the bank and sit down on the warm rock to let the air dry me.

‘Not really surprising, dreaming batshit crazy stuff,’ I muse as I munch on a hunk of bread. ‘Damn, Del, you should be screaming and banging your head on a wall with all that’s happened.’ I cant my head in thought. ‘Then again, Del, maybe you have gone mad, and this is what the inside of a padded cell looks like through psycho eyes.’

Misty, standing on a small rock midstream, gives me a look of admonishment as this thought goes through my head. She disdainfully flicks a fish out of the water that almost hits me.

“OK, OK, cat. I wouldn’t drag you into my crazy, so I guess that means neither of us is in some cuckoo land.” I smile. “Now see if you can grab a few more of those tiddlers, and we’ll make a supper of them later.”

Once dried and dressed, I call Misty and head back into the wood. The woods aren’t very dense, and the trees, with thick trunks, reach up a good eighty feet, with large deep-green leaves and coarse bark. Dappled sunlight filters through in a dancing pattern of light and shadow. The smell is crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of flowers and plants mingling with deeper earthy undertones. Birds pause their song momentarily as I pass beneath, then quickly resume as if they sense I’m no threat. I’m entranced by it all, taking in the atmosphere in a way I missed the day before in my fear of the unknown. I’m still cautious, watching and moving as quietly as I can, but this time more relaxed. Misty roams somewhere ahead of me, and I occasionally catch a brief glimpse of a ginger tail disappearing past a bush or scaling a tree.

[Sneak has improved slightly. Try not to get caught.] The voice of BB makes me jump slightly. I’m sure I’ll get used to its intrusions one day.

Making a rough circle around the stream, I start to head back, fairly sure there are no obvious traces of more goblins close by. I do see a few tracks that to my eye most closely resemble rabbit, and possibly a small deer. I’ll soon need to start thinking about hunting for fresh meat—or consign myself to a diet of cat-caught tiddlers.

‘I wonder if there’s a village or farm nearby.’

Smelling something herby nearby, I search about and find a small plant in the shadow of a bush.

‘Identify.’

Feldspar: A medicinal plant useful in tinctures and poultices to ease bruising and reduce pain.

I carefully pick the plant.

‘Useful. Damn it, Del, I wonder how many other useful things I’ve idly walked past.’

I start to look more carefully around as I continue back toward the stream. Soon, I’ve found several different mushrooms hidden in the undergrowth. Most are pretty basic, edible mushrooms, but two… well…

‘Identify.’

Spintofore: A hallucinogenic fungus. Don’t sniff the spores, and definitely don’t eat the cap.

Sombercap: Toxic. Can be used to make a mild paralytic poison. Can be used to coat weapons.

These could prove very useful. I gather the fungi carefully, using a rag to hold them.

[You have learned the skill: Herbalism. Identify and gather more plants and fungi to expand this skill further.]

‘Nice one, Del,’ I smile to myself. ‘Seems I can pick up skills by trial and error.’ I just need to figure out what I need to do to earn the skill or upgrade.

As I got closer to my erstwhile campsite, I gathered up some fallen branches and assorted brush. If I was going to have fish, I needed to cook it. I had no idea if that would be safe or not, but I’d done all I could think of to check that the local area was clear of little green men who might want to kill me.

A couple of hours and a small pile of fishbones later, with a comfortably full stomach, I sat by the glowing remains of my campfire, pondering my next moves.

One thing I knew for sure—I needed to practice using the damn bow. My one shot in anger had gone so far off target, I might as well have been shooting at the moon. I also needed to get to grips with the fact that, though this wasn’t the person I used to be, this version of me needed to buckle up and develop a stronger stomach. No way was that goblin the only thing I was going to come across that wanted to either kill or eat me—or possibly both.

Let’s hope it’s kill, then eat, Del, old boy. I really don’t fancy it being the other way around. I give a little shiver at the thought. So, practice with the bow. I had limited ammo. The original twenty arrows were a bit big for the smaller goblin bow, but they’d do in a pinch. The bow I got from that fight had another fourteen smaller arrows. While, in theory, my basic archery skill let me know how to repair and sharpen them, it didn’t really tell me how to make new ones. I’d have to take time to learn that when I could.

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This meant I needed to figure out a safe way to practice while minimizing the risk of breaking or losing the arrows I had.

‘You don’t want the arrow you need to be the one you broke trying to get out of a tree trunk,’ I thought.

“Misty,” I say, “we need a plan.” She gives me a quizzical look. “We need a couple of things: a place to train, better food, and I think we can find much of that if we can locate some sort of settlement. What do you think?” She pauses in the essential task of cleaning her face, glancing up and downstream a few times before fixing her gaze on the flow.

In my head, I feel that nudge I know is from her, one of assent.

“I think you’re right.” I smile. “In the meantime, we keep a lookout for potential bad things that want to eat us and maybe even something for us to eat for dinner.”

It doesn’t take me long to gather our meagre belongings, and we begin our trek along the stream, Misty ranging ahead to scout the way. We continue for maybe half an hour—it’s hard to tell without a watch, and my history of burnt dinners proves my ineptitude at judging the passage of time accurately.

My mind fills with a vague image of what looks like a pig.

‘Well done, girl,’ I think back to her. ‘Looks like you’ve found our dinner.’

Crouching low and keeping to the solid rock sides of the stream wherever possible, I creep forward. As I round a bend, I see a small glade, maybe twenty to thirty yards across, dappled in late afternoon sun and thick with small flowers poking through the grass. Across the glade, rooting around the base of a large tree, is the most not pig I think I’ve ever seen.

This thing is big and looks brutal, with powerfully built shoulders that must reach almost a yard and a half high. A thick mat of hair flows down its sloping back toward equally muscular haunches. Its head—oh dear god, its head—is broad, with small scrunched-up eyes and a tapered snout ending in two very large, very sharp-looking, very I-don’t-want-to-play-with-those tusks jutting out from its lower jaw. The creature is using its snout and tusks to root and dig among the roots, searching for whatever it’s after.

‘Identify.’

Forest Boar – Beast, male

Level: 1

Aggressive, territorial

Strengths: Strength, toughness

Weaknesses: Short-sighted

Attacks: Tusks, trample

Skill: Charge

Lore: Boars are highly aggressive beasts that startle easily and will attack if they feel threatened. Males are solitary except when breeding. Females move in family groups of mixed age adult females and piglets.

I carefully take my bow and notch an arrow, trying to slow my heart rate and breathing.

‘Misty, distract if you can, but be careful. Wait for my shot.’ I don’t know where exactly she is, but I feel her understanding through our mental link. I quickly scan the area to see if anything might get in my way—or maybe even help. I take aim, hold my breath, and... with a twang, I let the arrow fly. This time it flies true, hitting the boar in the shoulder with a satisfying thunk. The resultant screaming squeal echoes through the glade as the boar’s head jerks up, sniffing the air, before zeroing in on my scent.

Then, it charges.

The ground seems to shake as it thunders toward me, head lowered and those evil tusks pointed directly at me. I toss my bow safely to the side as I roll the other way, just managing to avoid the oncoming bulk.

Scrambling to my feet, I draw the pilfered sword and crouch, watching as the boar skids to a halt, turns, and rushes back at me.

‘If those things hit, they’re going to bloody well hurt.’

I scramble to clear its path, trying to swipe down with my blade as it barrels past. It suddenly twists its head, bashing me in the side. I feel my foot slip as a rush of expelled air bursts from my lips, and I go down hard.

I hear another angry "screee" from the boar and see as it turns towards me, my cat on its back, hanging on with front claws as she rakes its side. The boar gives an almighty shake, and Misty goes flying off with a yowl of protest.

In a moment, the boar is on top of me. A foot lands on my thigh, and pain rips through me. Its tiny, evil-looking eyes glare down at me as it twists its head to drive its tusks into my unprotected chest.

In an act of pure desperation, I thrust up with the sword. The point pierces its throat and upward into the creature's brain. With my other hand, I manage to deflect the falling tusk as the boar collapses, dead, on top of me.

Feeling tears of pain start to trickle from my eyes, I struggle out from under the beast.

'Damn, this thing is fucking heavy,' I think, as the pain in my thigh starts to really hit home.

"Shit, that hurts. Hey Misty, are you alright, girl?" I call out.

I see her cautiously approaching to sniff at the dead body. Once I know she’s alright, I turn my attention to my own injuries. I carefully ease down my leather breeches to better examine my thigh.

'Broken skin, bruising is already starting to show, no major bleeding though. Del, looks like you got off lightly.'

I hobble over to the stream and find a couple of small flat rocks, taking out a couple of the Feldspar leaves I had collected yesterday. I carefully crush them, adding a little water to create a paste. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but all I could do was try. Once I had the paste looking thick and sticky, I gently slathered it onto my injured leg.

Almost immediately, I felt a warmth spread through the area, and the pain numbed down considerably. I sighed in relief and sat at the stream edge. That fight was too damn close for my liking, and I knew I was lucky to get away with just some minor injuries.

'Still managed to stick it with that arrow, though, Del,' I grin. 'Not too bad at all for an amateur.'

Now calm, I became aware of a quiet beeping noise. Notifications, I thought. Pleased I hadn’t been bombarded with them as I was fighting.

[Your sneak ability has slightly improved]

[Forest boar hits you for 3 points of damage, agility compromised]

[You have killed Forest boar. Experience earned]

[Herbalism has improved slightly]

[You have progressed on your primary Cuvat: Survive. Points added]

This last one made me smile, a lot.

'Well, Del, my old chum. Looks like we are doing something right.'

Now let's deal with this pig and think about supper.

I cut a small strip of cloth from the hem of my shirt and use it to wrap my thigh before pulling up my breeches and going back to the boar. On the way, a quick detour to retrieve my, thankfully undamaged, bow, and then it’s on with a messy job. I strip off my jerkin and shirt and move them out of the way before unsheathing my skinning knife.

'How the hell do I do this?' I mutter to myself. 'This is so much easier from the supermarket meat counter.'

With a resigned sigh, I set to work, trying to remember any random tips I'd picked up over the years from those survival shows on TV. I kneel by the boar, and make a small cut in its tough hide near the belly, gripping the skin with one hand as I work the knife underneath to get a decent strip started.

"Right, Del," I mutter to myself, "just remember… slow and steady."

The blade drags through the hide, and after a lot of awkward sawing, I manage to peel back a decent section. The smell hits me full force, far more intense than I expected, and I pull a face, doing my best not to gag. Misty watches me with an expression that clearly says, Amateur, but she flicks her tail and returns to cleaning her paws, probably deciding to let me muddle through on my own.

I continue cutting, working the meat free from the bone as best I can and setting aside several manageable chunks. After what feels like an eternity, my hands sticky with blood and sweat, I sit back and survey my work—rough, but enough for a few meals.

"Guess it'll do, eh, Misty?" I say, holding up a chunk of meat. She sniffs at it with mild interest before looking away, clearly unimpressed.

“Time to cook girl,” I say to her. “Let’s see if you are so fussy with a hunk of bacon in front of you.”