The next morning, Caden dragged me out of bed an hour before dawn. I cursed the man and then cursed that I wasn't being awoken with a hot cup of coffee. Or at least a mug of highly caffeinated tea. I would have settled for the kingdom's version of an energy drink as well.

He'd talked the quartermaster into letting me find suitable clothes for the trip. I rummaged through the pile of discarded clothing, my fingers brushing against various fabrics. The smell of sweat and leather filled my nostrils as I searched for something that would fit. Beggers couldn't be choosers, but I did my best to pick out clothing that had as few blood stains as possible and tried not to think about who had previously worn them. My eyes landed on a plain leather jerkin. It wasn't much to look at, but it seemed sturdy enough. I pulled it on, and the weight settled comfortably on my shoulders. I picked up a pair of plain brown trousers. They were made of rough, durable fabric—not the most comfortable, but practical for travel. I pulled them on, tightening the leather belt around my waist. The best part is that they weren't blood-stained. They were worn but still supple, molding to my body as I fastened the simple brass clasps.

Next, I found a pair of boots. They were scuffed and weathered, clearly having seen their fair share of miles. I slipped them on, wiggling my toes inside. They were a bit loose, but nothing a thick pair of socks couldn't fix. The soles were thick and treaded, perfect for the long journey ahead.

As I stood there in my new attire, I caught a glimpse of myself in a nearby shield. The clothes were far from flashy; they were simple, utilitarian garments that would blend in with any crowd. It was a far cry from the ornate robes of Morthisal, but that was exactly what I needed.

While I was packing my few belongings, I dug up a small hole I'd made under my cot, retrieved the voyager scrolls, shining ring, and gems I'd taken from Morthisal's treasure room, and hastily stashed them in a leather backpack I’d found with the discarded clothing. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with this stuff, but it seemed a shame to bury it in the woods like Lady Churl was supposed to do with my staff.

----------------------------------------

As dawn broke, our small caravan set out from the camp. Two weathered wagons creaked and groaned under the weight of supplies, their wooden frames straining against the burdens.

I couldn't help but admire the horses hitched to our wagons. Unlike the weary, battle-worn steeds I had expected, these animals were the picture of health.

Their coats gleamed in the early morning light, and muscles rippled beneath their shining hides. The horses seemed eager to be off, their ears pricked forward, and their hooves pawed at the ground.

A chestnut mare tossed her head. Beside her, a powerful black stallion stood tall, his coat so glossy. I couldn't help but run my hand over his coat.

"Good horse," I said encouragingly.

The horse pawed the ground and glanced at me with big black eyes as if to say, "The hell is wrong with you, dude? I'm a horse."

----------------------------------------

I adjusted the straps of my pack. The voyager scrolls, shining ring, and gems felt like a small fortune hidden there. As I fell into step with the others, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, both for myself and for this ragtag group of survivors.

For half the day, I walked next to Caden, my new boots already chafing at my heels.

As we trekked, I couldn't help but notice the variety of plants lining our path. There were dark, thick-leaved bushes with berries that looked almost like black pearls, and trees with bark with an odd purplish tint. The air was filled with the distant calls of birds, some sounding eerily familiar, others completely alien.

Occasionally, I'd see small creatures darting through the underbrush—like a cross between a squirrel and a lizard. They moved with speed and a wary curiosity, and every time one peeked out, I wanted to toss it a piece of food, but they were gone as quickly as they appeared.

The landscape slowly changed as we skirted the edge of what they called the Shadowed Wastes. I tried not to think about the fact that my body-napper had once ruled those lands as Morthisal. Instead, I focused on putting one foot before the other, marveling at how quickly my body tired.

Now would be the perfect time for me to star in a movie montage where I'm shown growing stronger and able to walk all day without the blisters and sore muscles.

As we trudged along, I noticed a few soldiers sharing a well-worn flask. Curious, I edged closer.

"Hey, Varix," one of them, a grizzled man named Toren, called out. "Care for a sip?" He offered the flask to me with a grin.

I hesitated, then took it. The liquid inside was harsh, and burned its way down my throat. "Wow, that's strong. What is this?" I asked, coughing slightly.

"Local brew," the man replied, taking the flask back. "Raises the spirits on long marches."

"Raises my hair, too. You could use that to strip varnish."

"I don't know what that means, but this will put hair on your chest." Toren laughed.

"Or burn it off!"

The others guffawed, and we continued along our way.

By the time we stopped to make camp, my feet felt like they were on fire. I collapsed onto a fallen log, grimacing as I pulled off my boots to inspect the damage.

"How're you holding up?" Caden asked, plopping down beside me.

I wiggled my toes, wincing. "Doing great. The road. Fresh air. It's beautiful here. Just beautiful. My feet are sore, but that's to be expected. I love hiking, and this is a good way to get back into it."

As the others began setting up camp, I noticed a few soldiers eyeing the meager rations we'd brought along. An idea struck me.

"Hey, Caden," I said, pulling my boots back on. "I'm going to see if I can find anything to liven up our dinner. Won't go far."

He nodded, looking impressed. "Good thinking. Just don't get lost."

I wandered into the nearby brush, keeping the camp in sight. My eyes scanned the ground, searching for anything edible. That's when I spotted it – a small plant with vibrant red peppers. A grin spread across my face as I knelt to examine them.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Carefully, I plucked a few peppers and rolled them between my fingers. They were small but looked potent. Perfect for adding a kick to our bland trail food. I snapped one in half, sniffed, and recoiled.

"Excellent!"

I looked up and thought I saw a pair of eyes, but they were gone as soon as I spotted them. Looking over my shoulder to ensure I wasn’t being observed, I softly called out, “Who’s there?” I figured it was Lady Churl, but no one answered, and no creatures came out of the woods.

As I stood up, a twinge of memory hit me. I'd known about these peppers before, as Morthisal. But how? I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn't matter now. What mattered was that I could contribute something to our group, even if it was just a bit of spice for dinner.

I’d kept the sage and other spices as well. When I returned to camp, a pot of food was just getting started sat over a fire. I approached Caden, holding out the peppers I'd found. "Check these out," I said, breaking one in half. "Give it a sniff."

Caden leaned in, his eyes widening as the pungent aroma hit his nostrils. "Whoa! That's potent. What are you planning to do with them?"

"You don't think it's poisonous, do you?"

"That little guy? Nah. Just a simple pepper. My pa used to grow them. What did you have in mind?"

"Just something to spice up our dinner," I replied with a grin. "Trust me."

“I do, but I’m unsure how the others will react.”

“They’re going to love it,” I said with enthusiasm.

I made my way to the pot and the camp supplies. As I'd done at the healer's camp, I built up a stew base with meat, flour, salt, pepper, and spices. I chopped the peppers up and tossed them in as well. I looked through the camp supplies, found a few more aromatics, added them, and then let them sit for a few minutes before building the rest of the stew. I had to fend off the hungry soldiers, but they were patient. The aroma that wafted up was mouthwatering.

As we gathered around to eat, the men and women dug in eagerly. I watched their faces, waiting for a reaction.

"There's something different about this," one mumbled between bites. "Something good, but it needs a little more."

Another nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's got a kick to it, and it's good and thick. Who did this?"

Caden clapped me on the back. "Our new friend Varix here found some herbs in the woods."

The men turned to me, impressed. "Well, looks like we've got ourselves a cook," one said and chuckled. "You're in charge of meals from now on, Varix."

“Wait. Me? But I don’t know how to cook for such a large crew. I’m more of a dinner-for-one kind of guy.”

“This one has a funny way of speaking,” the man who had enjoyed the pepper’s kick said.

“Head wound.” I pointed at my forehead.

“I lost a leg. What’s your point?” another soldier said.

“Lost your leg. He‘s lost his mind. Would you trade with him?” Caden added.

The others laughed.

I didn't have a place in the group. I couldn’t fight, and if I figured out my magical skills, it might lead to some very uncomfortable questions. Now, I had a way to contribute to the group. A smile cracked my face. I could cook!

“If anyone gets a hold of some chickens, save me the wings. I’ll make you guys something special.” I realized I might have made a mistake. There was precious little game in the healer's camp, and I hadn't seen a single chicken. What if the fowl didn't exist in this world?

“Chicken wings,” Caden said. “Can’t eat those. No meat. They’re good for making broth.”

“Wait. You don’t eat wings?“ I breathed a gentle sigh of relief that chickens existed here.

A couple of the soldiers looked at me like I was even more out of my mind. I decided then and there that I would try to make these guys some chicken wings as soon as possible.

The next morning, as we set out, I pulled Caden aside. "Want to help me forage along the way?" I asked. "I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

“I know a few roots and plants. I’ll help.”

“Excellent, buddy. We’ll range out and see what we can find.”

He agreed, and we spent the day's journey scanning the roadside for useful plants. By the time we made camp that evening, we'd collected a handful of aromatic herbs and a few more fiery peppers.

Caden had a sharp eye, located a few batches of wild onion, and pulled them out of the ground. I sniffed and inspected them. I wasn't only addicted to cooking shows. Television programs about surviving in the wilds had been an almost crippling addiction. Plus, I had gone through a survival training camp. So, I knew what the death camas looked like. More importantly, real wild onions actually smelled onionsish. These were the real deal. I pulled the first layer of skin off and took a satisfying bite. The flavor was immediate and strong and made my eyes water.

"That's good," I said.

As I experimented with different combinations of spices, some of the soldiers announced they were going hunting. They returned just before sunset, a brace of rabbits slung over one of their shoulders.

"Let's see what you can do with these, Varix," he said, tossing them my way.

I stared at the limp rabbits in my hands, their fur still warm. My stomach churned. I'd never cleaned an animal before, and the thought of gutting these creatures made me a little queasy.

"Uh, Caden?" I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. "I could use some help here."

Caden looked up from where he was setting up his bedroll. "What's the matter?"

I held up the rabbits, feeling foolish. "I've never... I mean. I don't remember how to, you know, prepare game." I tapped my head.

He chuckled, rising to his feet. "At this point, I'm certain you were a city boy, probably a mage of some sort or one in training. If your memory returns, maybe you can do some magic tricks." He gently chided me. "Anyway. Grab a blade. Let's get to work."

Caden grabbed his hunting knife and motioned me to follow him to a clearing just outside our camp. He laid out a piece of canvas and placed one of the rabbits on it.

"Watch closely," he instructed. "First, we're going to skin it."

I swallowed hard as Caden made the first cut. He worked quickly and efficiently, explaining each step as he went. Despite my initial disdain, I found myself fascinated by the process.

"Your turn," Caden said, handing me his knife.

"Thanks for providing us with sustenance, little buddy," I told the dead rabbit.

"Do you always talk to your food?"

I shrugged.

My hands shook slightly as I made the first incision. The skin separated more quickly than I expected, and I found myself relaxing as I worked.

"Not bad," Caden nodded approvingly. "Now for the tricky part - gutting."

This part was a little harder to stomach, but I gritted my teeth and followed Caden's instructions. I couldn't exactly expect to become a world-renowned fantasy chef if I couldn't skin a simple rabbit.

By the time we finished, my hands were covered in blood and fur, but I felt oddly accomplished. Even with Caden’s half-hand, he barely had any blood on him. I’d need to practice these skills.

"Now we'll cut them up for the stew," Caden said. He showed me how to separate the meat into chunks, setting aside certain parts.

I pointed to a pile of bones. “I’ll save those for broth tomorrow night, if we have time. Shouldn’t let anything go to waste."

As we worked, I realized how valuable this skill could be. It wasn't pretty, but it was necessary. And in this new world, I needed all the survival skills I could get.

"Thanks for teaching me," I said as we finished up. "I know it's not exactly glamorous, but I appreciate it."

Caden clapped me on the shoulder. "That's what friends are for. Now, let's see what kind of magic you can work with these rabbits in the pot."

It wasn’t magic, but much better than what we’d been eating. Tomorrow night, I hoped I could experiment a little more.

I planned to start looking for every herb I could find tomorrow.