I landed with a thud.

Well… okay. I didn’t. A lot of stories say that and I wanted it to sound cooler than what actually happened. I landed like a beach ball, bounced a couple of times, then rolled a bit until I was stopped by the gigantic blades of grass. They loomed over me like skyscrapers, blotting out the sun and leaving me within the cold, moist shade. I was shocked I didn’t splat like any normal piece of fruit would do, but then again I hadn’t fallen nearly as fast or hard as I’d expected.

I was so lightweight and spherical that I sort of gently fell to the ground, for lack of a better word. Other than a mild pain in my… everywhere? Yeah, everywhere. Anyway, I was pretty much alright. Unfortunately I was immobile so I had to stare down at the dirt until Fogwarth came down to retrieve me.

He was humming some jaunty little tune as his lips smacked like a baseball player with a full lip of tobacco. I could hear him inching over the dirt towards me as well, and I briefly considered how I could hear anything this well without any real ears.

“Ah! Sir Berry! There you are!” He called out after a moment, finally breaking free of his horrid humming. He sounded muffled, like he was speaking through a mouthful of food. “My my! You certainly went a ways now didn’t you? Speaks to the density of our delicious, succulent Calypso Blueberry harvest, does it not?”

“Yeah yeah, sure. Just scoop me up and let’s do this, Foggy,” I said, a bit more poison to my tone than I had wanted. To be fair he had cut me from a vine and sent me to what I assumed was a quick death. Dense blueberry or not, a fall is a fall. One rock and I’d be jam. I sighed, realizing I needed an inch worm of all things just for my survival. “Sorry, don’t mean to be rude. Clock is just ticking and all of that, ya know? Don’t want to start decaying or whatever.”

“Apology not accepted,” he answered enthusiastically. “There is not a need for it. Come, sir berry! We make haste for Mothric proper!”

Before I even realized it, two of the inch worm’s arms wrapped around me and hoisted me skyward. I had another brief panic as Fogwarth began to wrap thick brown rope around me in several elaborate knots, creating an intricate network of its length that essentially turned me into some kind of handbag or knapsack. Then he lifted me to his face, lips smacking and cheeks covered in a dark blue juice, before popping in the last piece of something shiny and gooey into his mouth. He gave me his standard squishy smile and blank stare. He spoke again in between his chewing, juices dribbling down his plump chin and cylindrical torso.

“I will carry you upon my back, sir berry! It is the safest way to transport you while leaving myself unencumbered should battle be met!”

I stared at him for a long while. Just my eyes locked to his, my frown parallel to his smirking, munching pudgy mouth.

“Are you… are you eating a blueberry?” I asked after multiple silent seconds passed.

“I…. Uh. Yes, perhaps I am,” he answered.

“Dude, what the fu-“

“I swear to you, sir berry, this one did not speak! I asked several times to be sure. You have my word!”

More silence passed as he continued to chew, the blood of my people dribbling down his chin. I could only groan and roll my eyes.

“Alright fine, you win. It’s all good, Foggy. Just strap me to your back and let’s head out,” I said after a long while.

The inch worm lit up, his eyes softening and his squishy face lifting to a toothless grin.

“Our friendship will not falter! I dare say that if our roles had been reversed, I would have forgiven you as well! Though I do hope you will not savor any of my family lest we feel the wrath of my father. Now, let us be off!”

He tossed me over his back, putting his arms through the rope loop at either side before beginning his hunched, squirmy walk forward through the bushes and stalks of my home. I reassured him that I have no intention of eating an inch worm or any insect, but he only met that with a chuckle before resuming his humming. The sound of his armor and weapons clanked loudly with each step, and I felt nauseous as I rose and fell with every long extension of his back.

My only solace was the desperate hope that this wouldn’t be a long journey.

“Agh!” I called out as another shred of grass collapsed on my face as we cut through the undergrowth. “God dammit, Foggy. How much longer?”

It had to have been two or maybe even three hours. On the first half of the journey I began to feel dry and pruned as the hot sun beat down on me, the scorching rays making my weird new skin tight as I baked. Between the heat and the humming I thought for sure I was in Hell. Some kind of twisted, fucked up Clive Barker personal Hell creation like those Hellraiser movies. There was an urge to vomit that kept crawling up like a monster under the bed, and on several occasions I just gave in to let it happen, but I guess my blueberry tummy was running on empty.

The thirst was intense though. I had rarely felt so thirsty in my entire life, human or fruit. I would have murdered an orphanage for a shot glass of water. Not an exaggeration.

I had given in and explained my situation to Fogwarth, who, for some reason I will never understand, took it as a great personal failure to protect me and immediately rushed to find water. I planned on assuring him it was all fine once we actually found the water, but I decided it was in my best interest to keep this odd dynamic for now. I needed to survive and I had little means of doing so myself, while the inch worm had this inclination to protect me for the time being. It was a win win, sort of.

After another few long minutes we came across trapped droplets of dew on a cupped leaf, and Fogwarth hoisted me to it, letting the droplets fall into my mouth.

It. Was. Incredible.

The rush of hydration, the soft taste of fresh water, the exquisite way it seemed to flood my every cell. It was euphoric in a way I didn’t grasp, and suddenly the sun didn’t seem like such an enemy either. My 6th grade science lessons about plants needing water and sunlight for survival were really paying off as I basked in both for as long as I could.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

While the water didn’t seem to have any harmful effect for over-consumption, the sun definitely did. I had seen a [Thirst] debuff in the corner of my vision when I had brought up my interface before that was now gone, but there was also a [Shriveled] that had been there briefly, left once more, then returned. [Thirst] had only some kind of 5% penalty for stamina, but it mentioned it would increase once I move to the [Parched] tier, then eventually to [Dehydrated].

However, [Shriveled] was odd. I explained it to Fogwarth, who immediately said we should move to the undergrowth path and only utilize minimal sunlight. It was a longer path, which really forced me to groan, but it would be safer.

“[Shriveled]? Yes?” Fogwarth asked, and I gave him a yes in response. “Odd. The [Thirst] debuff is quite common you will find. For many it is an unfortunate constant, along with [Hunger] and [Tired]. There are those that live with all three every single day, and it pains me so. Yet these are considered minor debuffs, and the vast majority of our population will never see a battlefield so the lowered Stamina, Power, and Health are an inconvenience at best.”

He pondered again for a moment. Hmmming aloud as he thought.

“This [Shriveled] debuff poses a different threat however. What was the effects again, sir berry? I am afraid I did not retain it.”

“Ow! God damn it!” Another low hanging stem smacked me in the berry face again. “Ugh. The debuff thing said it sped up my decay timer thing by 1.5 times. It also cut the time it would take me to reach the [Thirst] debuff in half. Apparently there’s a tier after it called [Pruned] and a higher one called [Dried].”

I thought of the cartoon singing and dancing raisins with the sunglasses for the last debuff.

“Hmm. An interesting debuff indeed then. Something you must consider when choosing an evolutionary path to be certain. There may be an option that negates this debuff. Perhaps a blacksmith or leatherworker can fashion you-“

Fogwarth cut himself off, halting his step forward and growing instantly silent. From his back I could feel his worm body grow rigid, and I heard the whisper of his swords gently scraping their scabbards as he retrieved them.

Despite this, I didn’t necessarily pick up on the hints right away.

“Leather? You are all bugs! Where are you getting leather from? Then again where are you getting metal from?”

“Hush, sir berry!” Fogwarth answered under his breath. “We have guests of the most uninvited variety…”

Suddenly my eyes grew wide as I saw the shimmer of eyes peering at us through the shade of the underbrush. They glowed menacingly, predatory gazes that lingered on us as whatever it was prowled the shadows. One pair was to my left, so Foggy’s right, and they moved as if circling us. Two more pairs were on the other side, these holding firm.

Then came the low, rumbling growls.

I gulped like a cartoon character in my panic.

Fogwarth was clearly capable. He had fended off that bee soldier without much issue. However these did not seem like more intelligent enemies; not that the bee was all that intelligent. No, these seemed to be like bestial predators. The way they stared and circled was not that of an enemy soldier but more of a hungry monstrosity. I could only hope Fogwarth could handle them for the both of us, or that blueberry wasn’t on the menu.

Before I could say anything further to Fogwarth, the one on my left lunged forward.

It broke from the shadows in a sprint, four feet mashing the earth and a heart stopping growl calling from the darkness. As it crossed a break in the canopy of grass blades the sunlight illuminated it just enough for me to get a glimpse.

Orange fur that faded into white for the undercoat, black stripes placed gently along its coat, startling eyes that were wide with anger and a maw open to reveal long, powerful fangs.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! It’s a fucking tiger!” I screamed as high pitched as a trained opera singer. I could not hold it back, the words escaped my blue lips like uncontrollable projectile vomit. The beast had cleared the ground between us in a matter of seconds as I continued my shouting. “Tiger! It’s a tiger!”

Fogwarth, to his credit, ignored my shouting and crying. Instead he opted to go to work. He swung the top half of his body around toward the creature while his lower segment dug deep into the ground to gain a foothold. I swooped around as he did so, still screaming about how we were going to be killed and eaten the entire time. Fogwarth met the creature as it leaped toward us, twin blades slicing through the air in perfect harmony.

There was a squelch, a groan, and the sound of wet meat thumping to the dirt below.

[Your party has slain a Brush Tiger - Level 7. You are awarded 68 experience points]

The notification startled me, but I had little time to hone in on it as the other two tiger’s began to rush toward us. Still, we had done it. We had killed it! Well, he had killed it anyway. I screamed again, this time with a bit of rage in the back of my berry throat. As Fogwarth spun around again to meet their charge, I could not help but feel totally useless.

I was incapable of doing anything for myself. I could not move, I could not fight. There was no way I would survive without the help of another. Even the sun itself was hellbent on my death apparently. I had to do this. I had to figure out this evolving thing and get stronger. I had to learn how to fight in this world.

I clenched my jaw and hardened my resolve. I would survive this place.

Another tiger met the edge of his swords, this time managing to land a blow of its own that carved the front of Fogwarth’s armor. From where I was I could only hear the sound of the claw on the metal, and the pained groan of the inch worm shortly after. I did see when a tiger’s severed head flew over us like a water balloon, trailing crimson blood in its wake.

I received another notification, this time it was 84 experience for the tiger being one level higher than the last. In a moment the third was put down, another smacking sound of blade cutting through flesh followed by the experience notification. I got a full, grizzly view as he spun around to survey the underbrush for more enemies. Severed limbs and long trails of spreading blood surrounded us, clumps of orange fur and mangled flesh.

“Foggy! Are you okay?” I called out, panting heavily even though I had literally done nothing.

“Aye! ‘Tis merely a scratch, sir berry! I have faced far worse injury and lived to tell the tale. In some parts of Mothric they still refer to me as Fogwarth, the Unkillable Spanworm. How are you, my berry friend?”

“Me?” I answered sharply. “I’m not doing so well, Foggy. Not at all. I couldn’t help at all in that fight or the one with the bee, and I can’t even roll myself away from the sunlight. Then, just when I thought I understood this whole thing, there are full grown tigers. Completely ruining my Bug’s Life theory.”

“Nonsense, sir berry! True strength comes from courage and bravery! It is felt the moment you face a foe eye to eye, when your blood runs hot and your six arms tingle with the excitement of battle. Despite your horrified, whimpering cries in fear, you still faced your foes in the end,” Fogwarth said with a dump truck full of bravado. “Bug’s Life theory, you say? I have not heard that one. Perhaps you can explain it to me on our trip. Only a couple more hours to go!”

I let out a deflated sigh at that as he put away his swords and renewed his humming. Within moments we were moving forward, leaving our tiger carnage behind us as if it never happened.

“Alright, there are a few theories that all say the same thing. Do you want the Bug’s Life version, the Ants version, or the Honey I Shrunk The Kids version?”