For the next week, I bided my time, watched, listened, and learned from my new friends. The camp was filled with veteran fighters whose bodies bore battle scars. Most also had eyes haunted by the horrors they'd witnessed. My older brother Mitch had been in Afghanistan when I was a kid. He'd fought there and never spoken of it to any of us. His eyes sometimes had the same look as these men and women.

I shared a small tent with a tall fighter named Caden Ashfall, a man from Everspring, a village west of our location.

Caden had been injured and ended up here a day or so before me. Half of his left hand had been chopped off, leaving just his forefinger, thumb, and nub of a middle finger. He'd also been stabbed in the side and spent most of his time lying on a hard cot while recovering. I quickly learned that there were clerics among the healers. Men and women with the ability to heal by touch and prayer alone.

One had tried pressing their hand against my head, but I had recoiled and begged them off. What if they got into my brain and saw I was under a spell? Or did I somehow still possess powers, thanks to Morthisal? Not that I knew the first thing about accessing or using them.

Despite Caden's injuries, he managed to crack a smile now and then, especially when talking about his hometown.

"You should see Everspring in the summer," he said one night as we lay on our cots. "The fields turn into a sea of purple when the lavender blooms. The village has many shops, baked goods, and a couple of blacksmiths. It’s–what’s that word I heard from a cleric… idyllic."

"At least, it was." Caden's voice grew soft. "Most of the lads my age went to fight Morthisal. There are still a few of us left. Not many, but a few." Caden shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound. "That's war for you. At least it's over now."

"How large is Everspring? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you?"

"A girlfriend? I'm friends with many of the girls there, or I was. S'been a year on since I've been gone."

"A mate, partner, you know. A girl. A guy."

"Ah. I did, but I fear Nyssa has moved on. We were close in our youth and practically grew up in the same household until we were older, of course. Then, her father didn't like the way I looked at her. Said I'd have to make a name for myself if I wanted her as my betrothed. I sent a few letters. She only responded to one."

"Maybe she's waiting for you?"

"Maybe. I hear some of Everspring was burned in the war. There was another girl I liked. Shell. Shellen. Her pa's a butcher, and I don't think he liked me much. As for Everspring's size, I'd guess about two thousand live there."

"That's a big village."

"Aye. It'll be a town proper before much longer."

I felt a pang of guilt as Caden rambled on about his youth spent in Everspring, knowing my body hijacker had been the cause of so much suffering. But I couldn't let it show. "I'm sorry," I said, hoping it sounded genuine. I wished I could tell Caden and the others how Morthisal had met his end. Stuck in my old body. Maybe he was there now, dealing with my bills, lack of a job, and my little apartment.

The thought brought a small smile to my lips.

Over the days that followed, Caden proved to be a friendly companion. He didn't pry too much into my past, accepting my story of memory loss at face value. Instead, he filled the silence with tales of Everspring and his life before the war.

I sat in the large mess hall, surrounded by wounded veterans. The air was filled with the clatter of utensils and low murmurs of conversation. The mood was unsurprisingly light. The men and women in this camp had all survived, and the war was over. They were to be sent home with a little bonus pay after they gathered their strength and healed from their wounds.

I looked down at my wooden bowl, steam rising from the thick stew within.

The cook had done his best with limited resources. Chunks of some unidentifiable meat floated alongside root vegetables in a hearty broth. I spooned a mouthful, savoring the warmth as it hit my stomach. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly bursting with flavor, either. The meat was tender enough, but lacked seasoning. The vegetables were too soft and almost mushy, and their individual tastes blended into a soupy blandness.

I should offer to help in the kitchen. I wasn't doing much else here; I might as well put my hands to good use. I regularly watched TV cooking shows, and had cooked for years. I had at least a hundred recipes penned into my own recipe book.

Still, with a little seasoning, maybe starting with some flour to make a roux, this stew would be more palatable. Maybe I could wander out and try to find some rosemary or thyme. I’d observed plants and flowers similar to those on Earth. Perhaps herbs would also be the same. I would have to ask around in camp to make sure they were the herbs I assumed they were. It would be a shame if I found a batch of thyme, only for it to be actually poisonous.

I was, however, grateful for a hot meal. I tore off a piece of dense, slightly stale bread and used it to sop up the broth. It was sustenance, nothing more, nothing less – probably the epitome of military camp fare.

Around me, my fellow diners seemed to share my sentiment. They ate with enthusiasm. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by occasional laughter. It was as if the simple act of sharing a meal, however plain, had lifted everyone's spirits.

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I caught snippets of talk about home, and about plans for the future now that the war was over.

I needed a name, and I'd given this much thought. So far, I had met a Mavrik Ironhelm, Jorix Fer'Dralis, and a priestess named Syril Mor'soran. Sticking with the timber and rhythm of the names, I had contemplated how to keep something similar to my own.

One night during our dinner, I feigned a look of shock and shot to my feet. Eyes turned to regard me.

"Varix Vel'Naris. There! I remembered my name!" Varix was close to Vince. The rest was just made up on the spot. Not bad ad-libbing, if I say so myself.

This drew cheers from the others. Caden clasped me in a firm handshake with his good hand. "Varix. A fine name, my friend. Have you any idea where your journey will take you next?"

"I have a small plan, but it's something." I didn't add that I hoped to get a job as a cook and work my way up from there. I'd even start in prep work, assuming positions like that existed.

"You know," he said, "you remind me of my cousin. He was always getting into scrapes, but had a good heart."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

Caden laughed, a rare sound in the somber camp. "Both, I suppose. You've got that same look about you - like you're not quite sure where you fit in."

He wasn't wrong. I’d spent my days trying to blend in, picking up bits of information about this world I'd been thrust into. At first, the other soldiers had been wary of me, but Caden's easy acceptance had helped smooth things over.

On a bright and sunny morning, I made my way to the mess hall before most of the others had risen for the day. A slim man by the name of Eris greeted me. I told him I'd lost my memory, but some parts of my cooking memories remained, and I offered to help. He was more than happy for an extra pair of hands and set me to work right away.

I settled into a routine in the camp kitchen, finding comfort in the familiar tasks of chopping vegetables and scrubbing pots. The work was simple, but it kept my hands busy, and my mind focused on something other than the bizarre situation I'd found myself in.

One morning, as I prepared to help with the day's stew, I approached Eris with a large batch of herbs I'd gathered from just outside the camp. I had shown them to a few of the soldiers in camp and they had confirmed they matched what I thought they were. Sage grew wild here, and I had a lot. Then there was rosemary. "Mind if we add these?" I asked, holding out the fragrant leaves.

Eris shrugged. "Stew is stew, lad. It's meant to fill bellies, not much more. But if you want to toss 'em in, go ahead."

I nodded and looked around the kitchen. One of the cooks helped me find flour, and I located a block of butter in a cooler. I politely took over the stew for the night. I browned the meat in lard and butter, then added a healthy amount of flour and stirred it around until it had blended in and I no longer saw white. The finely chopped herbs were next, along with veggies as it cooked. I spotted some rib bones in the cooler, so I tossed those in for extra flavor.

The aroma that wafted up was instantly more complex, and I couldn't help but smile. If he let me, I'd start seasoning the ingredients before assembling the rest. If they had a little flour, it would go a long way toward thickening it, as I created a roux.

As we served lunch, I listened for reactions. It didn't take long before I overheard a gruff soldier at a nearby table.

"Huh," he grunted, spooning another mouthful. "What'd they add to this? Tastes different."

His companion shrugged. "Dunno, but it's good."

It was a small thing, really, just a bit of extra flavor in an otherwise unremarkable meal. But seeing the subtle smiles and hearing the appreciative murmurs as people ate, I felt like I'd made a real difference, however minor.

As the week drew to a close, I found myself growing almost comfortable in this new life. But I knew it couldn't last. Sooner or later, I'd have to move on and find a way to start over. For now, though, I was content to sit with Caden, listening to his stories and pretending, just for a moment, that I belonged.

The wagon had arrived just after dawn, its wooden wheels creaking under the weight of so many broken bodies. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of fear.

I moved among the wounded, my hands steady as I tended to their injuries, one of the skills I had picked up since arriving. Most of the ambulatory soldiers here helped out where they could. It could be grueling work, and I'd seen enough horrible wounds and death to never want to go to war.

"Easy there, big guy," I said to a burly soldier with a gash across his cheek. "Let's get that cleaned up."

He flinched as I dabbed at the wound with a cloth soaked in antiseptic. "You talk funny," he grunted.

I tapped my own head, where a fading bruise still marked my tumble through the portal. "Took a knock to the noggin. Can't remember much of anything before waking up in a pit of dead bodies. I guess I got my brain scrambled a little. Like eggs, know what I mean?"

"No. Most of that made no sense."

I laughed and assured him he would be okay. After I finished bandaging his head, I moved on to the next patient.

As I worked, I caught snippets of conversation around me. The other healers and soldiers spoke of battles and places I'd never heard of, using terms I didn't understand. From what I gathered, the Dark Lord Morthisal's forces were severely splintered, and pockets of resistance remained. The armies had been rooting them out.

I found myself wandering to the edge of the camp, where the tents gave way to rolling hills and distant mountains. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was a moment of quiet beauty.

As I stood there, lost in thought, Caden appeared at my side, his injured hand tucked close to his chest.

“Hey, Caden,” I greeted him warmly.

“My friend. What brings you out here tonight?"

"The stars, mostly. They look amazing. The sky is so clear."

Then he turned to me, a small smile on his face.

“Lots of stars to see on the road. Look, Varix. You seem a good sort. Some of us are heading to Everspring. That’s my home. Why don’t you join us? Fresh start. Maybe your memories will come back if you’re among normal folk. Not that the healers aren’t normal. They’re not exactly the excitable sort.”

I looked at him, surprised by the offer. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be," Caden assured me. "In fact, I think it would be good for both of us. A trip and fresh air can be magical. As long as that trip isn't on the way to find a horde of orcs."

I considered his words. Maybe Caden was right. Maybe Everspring could be a new beginning for me, a chance to find my place in this strange and wondrous world.

"Alright," I said, returning his smile. "Let's go to Everspring."

"Excellent, my friend. You're going to love it there. It's beautiful year-round. If you like lavender, you're in for a treat. There are fields for days..." He continued rambling on about the village for a few more minutes.

Together, Caden and I watched as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, the stars emerging one by one in the gathering darkness.