I’d never been a good shot. I thought, however, that a target that big, at that close of a range, would be more or less unmissable.

After the first shot went wide, whizzing harmlessly past the boar-thing’s left tusk, I was slightly concerned. I wished I had gone to the range more, done more target practice - or just been born with better aim.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I tried to steady my breathing. Tried to stay calm. Remembered old tricks the instructor had told me, in the now insufficient-seeming training I had received just before leaving. I visualized success. I visualized the bullet leaving the gun, and embedding itself deep into the skull of the monster - the monster which was growing closer by the moment. I visualized blood spraying out of the bullet hole, and the bullet rattling around inside, scrambling the brain.

While my mind’s eye saw success, my real eyes saw the slobbering beast, unfazed by a second bullet hitting the ground off to its right. I had over-corrected.

After the third bullet missed, I started to pray. After the fourth and fifth - all of these shots happening within seconds, despite the illusion of slow motion - I started to tremble in fear. After the sixth and final shot missed, I simply closed my eyes, as if the monster would go away if I couldn’t see it. I guess this is it, I thought. I guess this is how I die.

I braced myself, and tried not to be jealous of all the people who, at that very moment, weren’t getting impaled. But the impact didn’t come.

Instead, I heard a sound like the whistling of wind in a violent storm, and, suddenly, squealing. Loud, desperate squealing, like a death rattle. Based on how fast the thing had been moving, it should have hit me by then. I opened my eyes.

The boar was still running towards me, carried by it’s own momentum, but had slowed. One curious quill now stuck out from its side - an arrow. Blood was spotting the ground beneath it. Then, in a flash, more arrows flew in - a dozen, at least - and the pig let out another squeal as it was struck. Not a single arrow missed. It seemed like the earth shook as the beast fell. It had still had enough momentum that its body slid forward a little ways on the desert floor, leaving a streak of blood in the dirt.

My first thought: I’m alive! My second thought: Aliens.

We had discussed the possibility that this dimension could be inhabited, but RENA had said there was, at that time, no evidence of habitation. A possibility? Sure. But I don’t think I - or Tom, for that matter - ever actually thought we’d be running into other people, let alone some degree of civilization. But the arrows stood defiantly atop the corpse, shouting the truth: this world was inhabited. Not just by monsters, but by sentient life.

I turned to the direction the arrows had flown from, towards where the dirt floor transitioned quickly to sand dunes. I caught my breath.

The creatures I saw looked human. Human-ish. As if some childish, other-dimensional god had taken the human template, and stretched it out in grotesque ways for its own strange amusement.

There were four of them, gliding over the sand. Gliding.

They looked to be about the height of tall men - hard to tell from a distance, but over 6 feet, certainly. Bone-thin, like skeletons draped with skin, which hung loose from their arms like sails. That skin - which reminded me of a flying squirrel in a way which turned my stomach - caught the wind, and seemed to be how they moved so quickly over the landscape. Each one had a deep tan, and ears that ended in points like fantasy elves. They wore sand-colored robes that billowed behind them as they moved, and held dark bows, possibly wooden.

Not seeming to take a single step, they were carried towards me by the wind, which seemed to blow around them as if they could control it. Suddenly they stood before me - two men, and two women, looking like old corpses.

Just as I was trying to come to terms with alien life - other-dimensional life, rather - I was shocked again as their bodies started to shift. The loose skin that hung from their arms shrunk, and as it did, their anorexic thinness was lessened, as if they were fattening up before my eyes, redistributing their body mass. Their faces changed from skin pulled tight over skulls, to real, human-looking faces. For the men, their arms, which were formerly wiry and veiny, filled up a solid inch or two, going from deathly, to merely lean. The women changed similarly, though some of the change went to their busts as well. They had sharp, gaunt features, but were attractive, like starved models.

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The shocks did not cease - part of me wondered if they ever would - because the one in front - the leader, perhaps - spoke to me. And I understood it.

“We have saved you,” the man said, voice like a drum. Short, direct speech, stilted and without emotion - but English. I only blinked.

“Do you understand me?” the man asked. I was suddenly aware I was still gawking at the four of them. I nodded. It was only later that I realized this dimension may not interpret nodding the same way we do, but the man seemed to understand me.

“Can you speak?” he asked. Two of his entourage merely stood behind him, listening. The last one - a woman - had wandered away, and was squatting near the fallen monster. She held up her index finger, and as I watched, the fingernail on it impossibly grew and sharpened until it resembled a knife. She brought it to the neck of the animal. I looked away.

“Yes.”

“Good. I am Olim. You?”

“My name is Miles.”

“Miles.” He nodded, as if this were acceptable to him. “You owe us your life, Miles.”

I laughed at his directness, even if I was still taken aback by the situation. “I suppose I do. Thank you.”

There was a pause. Olim looked at me sideways, as if he expected more. “You are a traveler, yes? You are not from here.”

“I come from very far away,” I replied. It was true, though purposefully unspecific. I didn’t know if I wanted to start telling people I was from another dimension just yet.

“I see. Then you do not know the way of the world, yes?”

“I guess I don’t, no.”

Olim nodded again. “That explains it. Do you know who we are?”

I shook my head.

“We are the Cho’l. We have saved you. You must now take responsibility, as is our way. The scale must be rebalanced.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I stole a glance at the direction I had come from, while running. I didn’t see Tom - or much of anything, besides a gnarled tree - which looked like a mesquite - which I think I had been near when I had gotten to this world. I needed to go look for Tom. He could be injured.

“I am extremely grateful for your help,” I said. “But I have nothing to repay you with. I’m lost, and I’m broke. Seriously, I am super broke.”

Olim merely shook his head. “This is not true,” he said. “You have strange weapon.” He pointed to the revolver, which I still held in my hand.

“This?” I asked. I did not want to give up my only weapon. “This is nothing. You saw how well it worked just now. This thing is worthless.”

“Only because you missed,” Olim said. Is my incompetence that obvious? “And I want it.”

I shook my head. “I can’t give you this. I’m sorry, but I need it.” Besides, I thought to myself, I don’t even want to think about all the ramifications of giving these people a firearm. Dimen-X never said anything about it, but it doesn’t seem like I should be changing the course of history like that. They seem to be basically medieval in technology.

Olim frowned. “You are a foreigner, so I will forgive your ignorance. You do not choose. I choose. We have saved your life. This is the cost of your life. If you want your life, you pay the debt.”

“I seem to have a knack for getting into debt,” I muttered to myself. Olim didn’t respond to that.

Part of me - the most dangerous part - thought about my odds. The gun was empty, but I had more ammunition stored in my suit. Could I reload it in time, and shoot these four?

I sized the group up. I was outnumbered. Outclassed. Basically unarmed. I looked over at the woman near the corpse. She had her mouth pressed against the neck of the animal, and was drinking down big gulps of blood, her body filling out as she did.

I don’t have a chance in hell.

I sighed. At least Tom still has a gun. I’ll be fine when I find him.

“Here,” I said, handing him the gun. “My debt is paid.”

Olim took it gingerly, turning it over in his hands, examining it. “You are an enchanter, yes?”

“I…I don’t know what that means.”

Olim’s eyes widened. “You do not- your magic. How do you use it?”

Magic. Maybe that’s how they did that weird skin stuff before. If I had that kind of power, getting money from this world would be easy. Instead, I’m not even an hour in and I’m worse off than I started.

“I don’t have any magic,” I said.

Olim turned his head, meeting eyes with one of his companions. The woman shook her head. Olim looked at me again.

“I feel pity for you, traveler,” he said. “You are ignorant of magic. You are weak. Helpless. But a debt is a debt. And this weapon does not pay it. Take off your armor.”

I’m an idiot, I thought. I handed him my only weapon, and so now he’s robbing me. Magic? Yeah, if I could light you on fire this would be going a lot differently, let me tell you.

What could I do? I stripped, taking off the suit, folding it up, and handing it to my robber. I stood there in a pair of boxers and an undershirt. The only silver lining was that the communicator was in my ear, not a part of the suit. It was tiny, and skin colored, so it was extremely unlikely they would notice it.

“Do you have anything else?” Olim asked.

“No,” I lied. If I lost the communicator, I was truly dead.

He nodded. “This will have to do, then. If you want to live, traveler, you must grow stronger. This has happened because you are weak. Study yourself. Learn your magic.”

“You just robbed me!” I yelled, now properly pissed off at this criminal trying to give advice. “I’m in my fucking skivvies, dude, how the hell am I supposed to ‘grow strong?’ You’re leaving me here to die. This isn’t my fault, this is your fault.”

“Yes,” Olim said. “You will probably die. Because your type seldom learns. But it was my life to give, or take, at my chosen cost. If you do not wish to be a slave to the choices of others, you must live your own life. I wish you favorable winds, traveler. Your best chance, if you must” he said, pointing, “is to head to Eraztun. Many weak people gather there for survival. Head in that direction until you hit the road, and follow it.”

And with that, they departed, leaving behind a half-naked man and a monster’s thin corpse, drained of blood. They spread their arms like wings, drained themselves into their sail-arms, and glided off into the desert. The wind carried them away, even though I had felt no wind at all where I was standing.

I had thought about asking them if they had seen another traveler, but had decided against it. That would only have resulted in us both getting robbed. Tom - lucky as always - had sat this one out. We’d regroup, and maybe get Dimen-X to transport some replacement gear for me. They’d listen to Tom.

This world is dangerous, I thought to myself. Dangerous and strange. If I was stronger, a better aim - or had powerful magic, like Olim said - maybe that could have gone differently. If I was more clever. If I was Tom.

“Nothing to do now but find him,” I said aloud. “He’ll know what to do. He always does.”

I started walking, passing by the bloodless body of the monster, trying not to think of my place beneath it, at the bottom of the food chain.