Bob winched. The slap had been more symbolic than serious. No more than a little sting for Bob's evolved body. But the sentiment hurt. It's not every day you get slapped by a pretty girl you saved from a bunch of post-apocalypse hooligans. Had Bob deserved that? Had Bob really deserved that? Was it so reprehensible to want a little alone time to read? He'd been battling non-stop for hours and hours, not to mention carrying Sophie through the night. Should he get slapped in the face just because he'd failed to answer Sophie's beck and call? No, that wasn't square. That wasn't how these things worked.

"What was that for?" Bob barked. "You're a right piece of work. I'm always in the wrong. I do my humble best and it's never enough. You can't even sit quietly for a couple hours in a nice tent with good food and good company, while I'm risking my life trying to save this accursed planet."

Bob caught his breath, taking the opportunity to compose a few choice follow-ups; he definitely wanted to squeeze in a line about good intentions and life-debt and something how about you could judge a person by how they treated a dog. He gave Sophie the side-eye as he prepared to swoop down and savage her.

Except, Sophie didn't look so good. She was trying to hide it, trying to look fierce and angry and righteous. But as soon as he stopped to pay attention: her hands, the angle of her mouth, the little lines on her forehead. She was... frightened. Frightened of him? Bob bit his tongue. Sometimes it's braver not to die upon the sword. Sometimes the brave man has to put away his sword and live on.

"I'm sorry, Sophie." Bob apologized. "You're right. I should've answered."

When Sophie looked up at him, Bob thought he saw a teary sparkle to her eyes. He was probably imagining it, because she quickly turned around and harrumphed. But he chose to believe.

Bob sighed to himself. He really couldn't read this woman. He really couldn't read any woman. No, Bob's speciality was dogs. George bounded over and Bob took advantage of the opportunity to defuse tension. He sat himself down on the grass and let George crawl over him. The dog promptly bathed his master in homecoming licks.

"You been a good boy George? You kept Sophie safe?" The dog barked. "Good boy, good boy."

Bob avoided looking at Sophie. Instead he took that chance to look around him. It was past midday, a bright sunny sky, white, fluffy clouds. Bob wrinkled his brow in thought. That didn't make sense. He'd only been away two and half hours. And he'd triggered the evolution in the early night. At latest, at absolute latest, it should be early morning. Something didn't add up.

Bob studied their surroundings a bit more intently. The unmistakable signs of combat. Trampled plant-life, blood splattered on the grass, the black bomb-zones where George had breathed fire. Bob sat stock up and pulsed his mud senses around them. Nobody there.

"Sophie," she trembled a little at her name, "were you guys attacked while I was away?"

She didn't answer, but the way her body tensed up was answer enough.

Bob cursed. What the hell was wrong with him? Something terrible had happened while he was away and what had he done? What had he done? The moment he arrived back, had he rushed to his friends? No, all he'd thought about was himself, about reading Jonny the Man, about securing some alone time. It's a different world Bob. It's a different world. People die here all the time. Nowhere is safe. Get that through your thick skull Bob.

"Are you guys alright?"

Bob checked over George looking for any wounds. The dog didn't seem wounded. However, the dog was so dirty and mud-spattered that it would have been difficult to find a wound even if there had been any. Were those patches of dried blood from way back in the first mud wave? Someone needs a bath.

"Sophie." She didn't look round. "Sophie, are you hurt somewhere?" She shook her head, but continued to stare away from him.

"Sophie, what happened?" Bob stood up and stepped closer to her. "Sophie, who attacked you?"

"People," Sophie whispered.

Bob felt his insides twist. "Fucking vultures," he spat out. How could they do it? Attack out of nowhere. A woman and dog. It was disgusting.

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"Who were they? Did you get them all? What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I get it. But I need to know. Did some of them get away?"

She didn't answer. Bob put his arms on Sophie's shoulders and forced her to look around at him.

"Sophie I need to know. Did some of them get away?"

She nodded. Bob could see tear lines on her cheek.

"How many were there?"

"Five."

Bob nodded. His eyes fierce.

"Robert, they said they'd come back. They said they'd bring more men. They said, they said..."

Bob waited.

"They said the Bandit King would come for us."

"What? What are you saying?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking me? I'm just repeating what they said."

"The Bandit King..."

Bob closed his eyes and sighed out, trying to let his anger seep away. It wouldn't help him. He'd just say or do something stupid. The breath came easily to him. Somehow he knew instinctively to hold it at the top and deepen it a little, before sighing it slowly out. He calmed down. The important thing was that everyone was okay. That they'd survived.

"Thank you." Bob hugged Sophie. "You're ok now. I promise you. You've been through hell. I know that. And I'm sorry."

Sophie buried her face in his chest. She was sobbing. He rubbed her back and kept repeating comforting phrases, you're okay, you're okay now....

After a couple minutes he asked, "Sophie, how long I was away?"

"Too long."

Bob smiled. "Yes, too long. But how long, Sophie?

"I don't know. Half a day, a little longer. It was forever Robert."

Half a day! Bob bit his lip. "I'm sorry."

Bob looked over at the dog. The dog had saved the day. Again. One more medal for the golden retriever. Why the gods will put that dog in the stars one of these days. Bob stretched out a hand to pat the dog's head.

"George, good man. You protected her. You took on five men by yourself? Five men." And then Bob's face paled. "Sophie, what happened to the men?"

"They all ran off."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

Bob let a relieved sigh. Objectively, it would have better if George had killed all five of them, but Bob just didn't want George to butcher people. He was a dog for Christ's sake. A golden retriever. A golden retriever shouldn't kill people.

"How did you drive them off?"

"It was the dog. He should have killed them. I commanded him to, but he," she scowled at the dog, "chose to ignore me. A most rude and stupid dog." Bob gave her exasperated look that she chose not to notice. "He just gently burned one of them and barked them off."

"And they left?"

"Well, I might have told them George could incinerate them all like that," she snapped her fingers, "and he was only waiting my signal."

"And they bought that?"

She looked displeased at his lack of faith. "I can be very persuasive when I have mind to."

"That I believe. Fine, fine. Well, good job bluffing them."

"It is not good. They will come back Robert. They will bring more men." She was getting worked up again. "These ruffians and their king, they'll come, they'll come for us. What will you do?"

"What will we do, you mean?"

"Yes that is what I said. Why are you repeating me?"

Bob just shook his head.

"What will we do? What will we do?" Bob snarled and his eyes turned predatory. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll bury them in the mud."

"You will bury them in the mud"

"That’s what I said."

Somehow the threat of bloody violence was more comforting to the distressed woman than all his kind cooing and gentle back-rubbing. We're all bloodthirsty at heart. Soon Sophie had calmed down enough to sit in the tent and eat something, while Bob sat nearby and puzzled out their next move.

If Bob was honest, random bandits did not worry him. Bob was somebody, folks. The world avatar, the mud magician, the only D rank sentient on the planet. These lands were his kingdom, the mud labyrinth: "abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

His home advantage was frankly ridiculous. Able to sense all incoming enemies within a hundred meters: check. Insta get-out-of-jail-free-card escape pod (mud-edition): check. Voice-command anywhere-you-want-it trap door: check.

Hell, Bob hoped those bandits would come back. Let them come back with all their friends and their cardboard-crown bandit kind. Let them challenge the valley of the mud. For only a dark and sticky death awaited them here.

No, there was little risk in a straight fight. The danger was in what had just happened. If they took him by surprise, or somehow managed to isolate him from George or Sophie. Bob had not forgotten the way a school of worm-snakes had managed to ambush them in the night. Bob's evolved body might need less sleep, but he wasn't going to be able to camp out every night from now until the end of days. They needed some automatic defenses. Ideally offensive defenses. But at the very least some kind of trip alarm.

Thankfully Bob had evolved. The store held new promise to him. Weapons were very much on the table. But first he ought to formally grant Sophie citizenship of Earth Settlement 1. Despite rocky beginnings and an unbearable personality, Sophie was their comrade. Some experiences just bring people together. You know, buddying up with someone to finish the marathon together. Celebrating Christmas. Getting captured and held hostage together. Defeating a level 10 giant slime. As far as Bob was concerned, Sophie was a full member of team Brown. She deserved the perks of reduced shipping.

Bob navigated to the settlement tab. He found his citizenry roll with its short list of names. And he discovered the option for adding Sophie (he could see a list of all people currently within city limits). Bob mumbled a few choice remarks under his breath:

"Today, you join a nation built on the principles of chance, mud and laziness. May you drag us out of the quagmire of apathy and into the daylight of meaning. I hereby formally grant you citizenship to the Brown Empire. Welcome to your new home, Brownian."