Milo followed after the skittish kid—not chased, followed, at a non-threatening pace—until he was no longer sure which direction he’d gone.  At that point, he used Skim to pick up the boy’s footprints like he had Backlebutt’s back in the tunnels.  

It wasn’t long before he happened on a well-used footpath through the trees.  Another use of Skim showed which direction the boy had gone, to the right.  

He half-considered going the opposite way and simply seeing where the trail led.  That way, he could avoid the awkwardness of having followed someone who clearly didn’t want to be followed.  Also, Milo didn’t have much interest in potentially meeting an overprotective father.

In the end, though, Milo opted to follow his most promising lead.  He was looking for people, and the boy fit that criterion.  It was pretty unlikely he lived alone in the woods, so there would be more, hopefully less flighty people wherever this trail led.  Even if those people weren’t super friendly, they might at least point him toward civilization to get him out of their hair.  

It was several minutes later that the trail led him to a small, rugged cottage nestled in the trees.  There was no sign of the boy.  Instead, Milo found a woman who looked to be in her late 20s.  She was wearing a very plain outfit that closely matched the boy’s.  Combining that with her hair and complexion, Milo went ahead and assumed she was the boy’s mother.  She stood in front of the door, holding a bow.  There was an arrow nocked, but the bow was down at her hip.  She studied Milo with an...odd look.  

It was difficult to tell from this distance, but her expression was much less the suspicion and wariness that he had expected, and far more puzzled.  Dumbfounded even.  But also...slightly hopeful?  It was a strange and confusing mishmash of body language that she gave off.  

Milo had stopped approaching as soon as he noticed her, and the weapon in particular.  After taking a moment to analyze the situation, he decided a greeting was in order.  

“Hello,” he called out in Altabarian, setting down his books and presenting both of his hands in a peace gesture.  “My name is Milo.  I mean you no trouble.  I understand if you don’t want me to come near, a strange man in the forest.  Could you just tell me where I can find more people, maybe?”

She didn’t respond.  Not verbally, anyway.  Her expression shifted from the initial bafflement to one of consideration, then...wistfulness, maybe?...and ended with a shrug of her shoulders.  She didn’t give much indication either way as to whether he was welcome or not.  

“Uh,” Milo said, feeling rather awkward.  Maybe he should make more small talk?  “Do you have a name I could call you by?”

All she did was shrug again, shaking her head.  She did look at him with deep interest for some reason, though.  Not his face; she seemed to be looking down at his feet.  He supposed his white cross trainers would probably appear strange to someone unfamiliar with modern footwear.  

Why won’t she talk to me?  It almost seems like...does she not understand me?  Did Backlebutt not teach me Common, or whatever?  Or maybe there is no Common.  I might need to hang onto Polyglot longer than I expected to.  

“Mom?” a voice called out from inside the house.  “Is the...man I saw out there?  Did he follow me?  What’s going on?  Is it okay to come out?”

“Stay in there for now, Devin,” she called back without taking her eyes from Milo.  

Okay, so we obviously speak the same language...oh my god.  Oh.  My.  God.  

“Hey,” Milo said.  “You speak English.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she took a step forward.  “So you are from...I thought you might be.  Your clothes.  Hard to tell, from so far away.  Oh my god.  Oh my god!  Can you...how did you get here?  Can you get back?  Can you take us back?  I mean, once I find—”  She cut off, then, biting her lip and looking at him searchingly.  “...can you?”

Once you find what?  

Milo shook his head, grabbing his book and his binder and walking forward excitedly.  “No idea.  Sorry.  I only got here a few days ago.  Did the same thing happen to you, a...a bubble thing?  Like it took a bubble from Earth and brought it here?  How long have you been here?  Looks like...maybe longer than a few days?”  He looked at the house, the bow in her hands.  

She looked crestfallen at his answer.  “It sounds the same.  Do you want to...you’re not going to try to rape me or anything, right?  Good.  Do you want to—do you have anywhere, yet?  I remember my first days, you must be starving, do you want to come inside?”

Am I going to rape you?  Who just brings that up?  

“I think I’m good on rape for now, thanks, uh, and I don’t want to impose—”

“Oh god no, you’re not imposing, it’s just been me and Devin for—” she cut off again, looking stricken.  “Sorry if I’m, you know, it’s just—” she stopped short again, looking down at the ground.  When she looked back up, her eyes were wet.  “I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess right now.  Uhm,” she sniffed.  “My husband, he—he went missing a while back.  It’s been, god, months now.  And since I’ve never seen anyone else on the island I thought that maybe—I just got my hopes up that maybe you were him, somehow, and then you obviously weren’t, but, it’s just got me thinking of him again.  Sorry.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Holy shit.  I don’t even know which thread to follow.  Why did her whole family come, but it was just me?  Why did the husband disappear?  Several months ago...could he have found a hole like I did, then entered the Descent and gotten caught in stasis like I did?  No, that wouldn’t make sense, otherwise I would have been in a group with him instead of Backlebutt.  And we’re on an island?!

He would do his best to be tactful, but he wanted answers.  

“Wow.  I’m sorry to hear about your husband.  Do you think there’s any chance he’s, you know, alive?  What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know!” she practically screamed.  “He went out hunting alone one day and just...never came back.  He said he might be gone a couple days if he didn’t get anything on the first day, so I wasn’t too worried at first.  But after a few days...I tried looking for him, but he’s the one with the tracking skills, not me.  I’m sure that if he were alive, he’d be back by now.  But sometimes I still hope, you know?  I just wish I could find his...find him.  To know.  For sure.”  She sniffled again.    

Milo nodded his understanding, then stood there awkwardly while wrestling with the impulse to ask more questions about the island, and about this business of there being no other people around.  

“It must be hard,” he finally said.  

“Yeah.  Devin’s been great, though.  He’s really stepped up, since his dad—Devin!” she called.  

The door opened, and the sandy-haired head of the boy Milo had stumbled upon earlier poked out.  

“It’s okay,” she said encouragingly to her son.  “He’s from home.  From Earth, honey.”  She laughed, though her eyes were still wet with tears.  “Your mom and dad weren’t just telling crazy stories.”

Wait, what?  How long has she been here, if this kid doesn’t remember Earth?   

The boy looked like he was somewhere around the age of 10.  

 Jesus.

“Hi again,” said Milo in the friendliest tone he could manage.  “Sorry if I gave you a scare earlier.”

The boy glanced between his mother and Milo uncertainly.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Devin!” cried the woman.  “That’s so rude to ask—I’m sorry, Milo, you don’t need to answer him.  Devin, it’s not nice to ask people about their disabilities.”  

Milo soured a little at the word.  Disability.  It was...accurate.  “I don’t mind,” he said.  “I just lost it one night.”

Devin and the woman both looked at him flatly.  

“You lost it?” Devin asked, clearly and appropriately skeptical.  

“Yep,” said Milo.  “Same night I came here, matter of fact.  Wasn’t in the bubble,” he explained, glancing at the woman with a ‘what can you do?’ kind of expression.  She covered her open mouth with her hand, sympathetic.  But then she cocked her head to the side, confused.  

“You’ve only been here a few days, you said.  I’m not calling you a liar, but that’s awfully well healed for something so fresh.  

“Potion,” he said with a shrug.  

“What, like Harry Potter?”

“More like World of Warcaft, or Diablo, or DnD, but sure.”

“How’d you get a potion?  Can you get more?”

“It’s...well, it’s a long story.  Maybe we should go inside, like you said?  Talk, get better acquainted?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.  It’s so nice to have company after all this time,” she said with a smile.  

“Could we maybe start with your name?”

Her eyes widened as she realized she still hadn’t introduced herself.  She put a hand over her eyes, hiding from her embarrassment.  

***

Her name was Julie, it turned out, and she was an excellent audience even if Milo was an awful storyteller.  

It just wasn’t something Milo was good at, or ever had been; he kept forgetting things, then wound up having to go back and cover things he’d left out, or explain something again when he’d apparently done a terrible job the first time.  

She asked all the right questions, however, and exclaimed at all the right times, and eventually everything was revealed, from the moment he’d woken up with a bleeding stump all the way to finding the path to Julie’s doorstep.  He saw no reason to hold anything back from her; from the moment he realized she was from Earth, he figured they were in this thing together.  

She provided snacks for them, some kind of crunchy dried fish-things that were surprisingly tasty, along with some less palatable seaweed.  Milo returned the favor by offering her and Devin each one of his last bottles of Soylent, vanilla cafe flavor.  Devin, surprisingly, turned up his nose at his, so Milo put the cap on it and saved it for dessert after the fish snacks.  Julie sipped on hers reverently; apparently she’d been a big fan of froofy coffees, and this was the first thing she’d had approaching that in something like a decade.  

It was cozy in the cottage, and very simple.  There was just one room.  The only source of light was from opened windows with no panes.  There were three obviously hand-made wooden chairs, along with a table, and lots of half-finished handicraft projects lying about.  Everything looked very primitive, with the exception of the bed, which had obviously come with the family from Earth.  

“So what will you do now?” Julie asked Milo after he’d finished recounting his adventures.  She asked it casually, but Milo could tell there was something under the surface.  

“I’m not sure.  I’d like to go back and finish the Descent at some point.  You say we’re alone on an island, and I think the only way we’re going to find other people is with Skills from classes.  Getting stronger.”

“It would be nice to be able to level up again,” Julie said with a sigh.  “I’m stuck at 3.  Devin can’t choose a class yet.  Has to wait until he’s older.”

“How much older?”

“Sixteen.”

“And he’s…?”

“Ten.  I think.  Hard to know for certain.  Not even sure how long a year is here.”

Six years.  That’s a long time if we want to go through together…

“I wanna see you fly,” said Devin suddenly.  

Devin had been mostly quiet through Milo’s storytelling, and Milo got the sense he was a bit shy.  That certainly made sense, given he’d only known two people his entire life.  Milo looked at him consideringly.  

Could win some easy points with the kid…

“Do you now?” he said with a grin.  “Maybe you want to try as well?”