In the end, we left in a little over half an hour. My father was not one for long farewells and we have everything we need for any journey in our rucksacks beside the bed. We were only ever forced to use them once when an angry drake chased an injured thunder hound into our house, but with the dangers all around us we expected to use them more often. Even outside of being security against the forest, the bags were useful for the long journeys to the nearest town we took occasionally for events like this and to sell our accumulated monster cores and furs.

“Come on,” called my mother as I wriggled back into my usual spider carapace armour that I had removed for lunch. I continued to walk swiftly, catching up with my mother just as we slipped among the trees and sped up to a fast jog. We had both powered up our windstep spells so we could run for the few hours until sun set.

I had first made this journey only three years before and was fascinated by the world beyond the forest. I had discovered two new friends and opted to complete the journey every time my parents went to the town. The running was monotonous with only few quick fights with minor monsters like the goblins and spear bugs. Spear bugs are giant beetles with a single sharp horn. Some people think they are powerful but they have a lot of obvious weak spots and only attack by charging with their wings out to gain extra speed.

Soon enough we reached our usual campsite. My legs had begun to complain and my back had begun to feel the strain of the heavy pack. The site was a small clearing surrounded by ghost wood trees. They had a curious appearance as though made of clouded glass and glowing softly. These trees had the curious effects of unsettling monsters and disappearing if cut down. Nobody knew what, if anything happens to the dead ghost wood but that trait is what gave it its name.

I set off away from the ghost wood grove to find firewood. It would be dark in only a few hours and we needed to eat. Along the way I gathered some onion and sweetroot that would be grilled with the last of the rabbit for a small meal. At one point, I heard a tremendous roar and climbed a tree to see the cause.

Among the flow of endless greenery, broken by patches of browns, blues, reds and purples two great beasts roared at each other clashing in a flurry of claws, teeth and blood. They were orons, huge tusked reptilian creatures built like boars. The usually gentle giants only became like this when provoked or mating. I assumed it was the latter because as they finally tumbled into the trees one moved away revealing another who had been motionless before. The great forest had consumed mountains, leaving only vague undulations in the tree line, it was easy to see how such a creature could hide from those so far away.

Hopping down from my perch I grabbed my pile of firewood and moved back to camp. My mother had finished collecting water and setting the tents. Approaching the small fire pit left from our previous stays I organised the wood and withdrew a flint stone from a miniature pouch next to my knife. After three strikes I had a flame that would catch and I began to prepare the food. A few precise cuts neatly divided the vegetables and filleted the already skinned rabbit. It was then speared on a long steel pine branch. We would eat soon I thought as my stomach added to my bodies demands for rest.

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It was time to use my second spell, cordon of arrows, that allowed me to protect a space for eight hours by causing specific objects to fly at anything that entered the area who I did not mark as a friend. My mother was also setting up non-magical traps but it was good to have both options. With my secret desire to become a mage I insisted upon using my two spells as often as possible.

We ate in silence before dousing the flames and crawling to bed. With the small comfort of my mother’s proximity I fell asleep.

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With the light of dawn filling the inside of the tent with a soft orange glow I awoke. Stretching I rub my eyes putting some spit on the lids to prevent the pain in my eyes from the sudden change in light; it was a trick I learned through trial and error. Yawning in slide out of my furs rolling them and placing them in my bag. Crawling out of the tent I look upon the clearing. It had been covered in dew during the night and the whole place from the wet grass to the translucent ghost wood trees seemed on fire with the dawn light. Grabbing a handful of nuts and dried food from my pack I ate quickly. For us breakfast was a small meal. With the large amounts of exercise required for daily life in the great forest, a large breakfast never settled correctly.

Getting up from her seat and looking at me, mother said “I heard they added a combat test to the ranger trials.” I nodded at her, removing the pack from my back. My father had introduced sparing after I memorised the basic forms he learned in the military. The rules were no causing injury and first to three touches wins. They always attacked first. “You should not attack a person first, besides, the first strike is the easiest so you need to learn what happens afterwards” was how my father explained it.

Springing forth my mother struck with a series of quick jabs, which I stepped back to block, followed by a sweeping high kick. I ducked the kick, stepping to the side and countering with my own flurry of jabs. We jump back, casting wind step and speeding up. Every movement became instinctive. There was no time to think. Suddenly, the flow of battle is interrupted as I score a touch to her retreating forehead just in time to notice the foot in my stomach.

I had been baited I thought as I was tossed over her by the momentum of her fall and the foot in my chest. She continued her role landing on top of me to score her three touches. This was what I expected. Despite her somewhat dainty looks she was tough enough to withstand a lifetime in a forest many bandits avoided.

There had only been twice I had won against her. Both times I got some help in distracting her mid fight. I had never won against father. “Don’t over-reach and try to be more wary of a retreating foe.” she instructs holding out her hand for me.” but you should be able to survive the test.” I take her hand and get up, wiping myself off. We take down the tent and she takes it whilst I adjust my shirt placing my armour over the top.

Still aching a little, we set off again at a quick jog. Just like the last time we have an un eventful trip. We still met the odd monster and had to change course around a drake, a relative of the dragons, the undisputed kings of the forest. Drakes are weaker than dragons but still stronger than a wyvern on the ground and not something we want to fight.

Finally, we burst from the last parts of the undergrowth onto a small trail that leads onto a road bound for Guendon, the frontier town with walls only rivalled by forts, the capital and the walled city to the south. It is important for trade and thrives off the flow of resources from the great forest. The town also happens to be one of a few places that host the ranger tests. That can, for some, determine their future. This is what I am here for.