This made it particularly devastating when Gloe returned home after a long day of trap-tending to find the nest on fire.

For a portion of a second Gloe questioned if he had somehow left something burning before he left. However he quickly reassured himself that he had never used any fire in or near the nest out of that very fear. The sky was clear, so lightning was unlikely. That left…

Gloe blindly dodged as soon as the thought crossed his mind. That made him look a bit foolish, as there was no attack coming. Perching on a branch, he scanned the surrounding area. There. In…the sky? He shook his head in bewilderment, then tabled the problem for later. For some reason or another his home had come under attack by something with unknown capabilities (although fire and flight seemed likely.) “If it’s a dragon I’m going to piss myself” he muttered softly.

It was time to go. The assailant seemed oblivious to his presence, for now. The nest was burning merrily, so salvage was unlikely. It was unfortunate to lose all the supplies inside, but unnecessarily confronting someone or something wouldn’t bring them back. He had his hunting gear, which would probably allow him to start over.

Briefly he considered running reconnaissance on his tanning and smoking clearing, then decided against it. That clearing had been chosen for the amount of sunlight it got, so it was probably very visible from the air. He’d have to just flee with what he had on him.

Dropping deeper into the canopy he began heading northwest. He would skirt the area surrounding the deep wyld and move along the outer layer, staying inside without heading in any deeper. Hopefully the ecosystem wouldn’t change too much. As long as things stayed familiar he could probably live relatively safely without shelter, albeit not too comfortably.

An odd sound behind him made him twitch. It sounded like gravel crunching, only breathier? And above him? He threw himself sideways, watching a figure flash through the space he had just left. Without the enhanced senses from his hat he would’ve been hit.

The figure circled back around. It was red. Shit.

The warden’s buddy had somehow tracked him down. Well, it would be easy to search from the air, and the nest would’ve been super obvious. In retrospect he’d basically been begging to be found.

Of course that would’ve changed if he’d known that his pursuer would somehow gain the ability to RUN IN THE FUCKING AIR! Small distortions appeared beneath redman’s feet as he stepped forward, vanishing as he pushed off. He literally was just running, except in the sky.

And he was coming back. Gloe took off, leaping from tree to tree. It was less efficacious than last time. Redman just weaved between the trunks, and he was faster now. Gloe was able to dodge the first few slashing passes by evading suddenly at the last moment, but he couldn’t capitalize in order to shake the guy.

He did finally discover a weakness in the new technique. Since it was actually running redman had to essentially incrementally step up or down slopes in order to ascend or descend. He couldn’t go straight up or down. Moreover, although his speed increased during his swooping downward attacks, it wavered a bit as he regained altitude.

Gloe took advantage by continually scurrying up and down trees, but it couldn’t work indefinitely. Redman was too fast, and Gloe only had two directions to dodge without cutting his margin very fine. Redman was beginning to anticipate, and it was only a matter of time before he guessed right.

Counter-attacking wasn’t an option. Gloe still didn’t have any real combat abilities, and speed difference between the two was even more pronounced. It was highly unlikely he’d be able to land a single blow.

Still, he should be able to pull off some sort of distraction. Redman’s speed was a double-edged sword, making it difficult for him to suddenly stop or sharply turn. The problem was what to do with the precious time such a trick would buy.

His previous attempts to flee or hide had all failed, likely due to his opponent’s prominent new goggles. They were bulky and elaborate, so it was unlikely they were solely for fashion. No, probably they somehow enhanced vision or tracking ability. They couldn’t be directly able to detect a target at long range, or it wouldn’t have been necessary to set fire to the nest to draw him out. So with a sufficiently substantial headstart…

Gloe had been dodging around expediently, so more or less randomly. Now he began to slowly circle back around in the direction they had come from. It took about fifteen minutes and far more close shaves than he was comfortable with, but eventually he got in position. Redman was really into this encounter, but he didn’t have unlimited energy, while Gloe was getting a pick-me-up every time the distance between the two closed. For the moment it was allowing him to dodge.

Time to execute. Gloe began ascending, scurrying up trees rather than down whenever an opening presented itself. In itself this would have been foolish. Once he reached the top of the forest he would no longer be able to dodge up, boxing him in.

By the time this happened though, he was in range. As redman ascended for another swooping attack Gloe charged at the still merrily burning nest. Redman hastily fell into direct pursuit, hoping to pin his prey against the hazard. Gloe flipped up and over the nest, and redman accelerated to catch him as he landed.

Which proved to be difficult, because Gloe didn’t land. At least, not there. Redman had assumed Gloe had a landing point near the nest, but Gloe had leapt blindly, because his goal wasn’t to land, but merely to fall past the nest.

Gloe’s 4th generation magic stabosaurus axe was a big improvement over the prototype. It had a neatly curved wooden handle made of slightly flexible hardwood trimmed and reinforced with stabosaurus bone. The tail plate that made up the blade was more carefully chosen, sharper and stronger. It also was more carefully integrated into the head, fitted neatly and tamped in with bone shards, pitch and tightly woven vine and sinew reinforcements.

Overall the tool’s physical form was relatively refined. Better put together, more durable and easier to use. That meant that very little reinforcement magic was needed, so most of the capacity could be used for increasing strength. Since the stabosaurus didn’t have any inherent cutting or chopping ability that meant a direct increase in the power of axe blows, especially since Gloe had killed three more of the beasts and understood their magic better. Each strike had roughly two-thirds the force of a stabosaurus tail swing, only concentrated into a single tail plate.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Naturally Gloe wasn’t strong enough to wield that kind of force, but thanks to the magic he didn’t have to. Magic had its own internal rules (most of which Gloe was still trying to work out) but one of the things that made it so useful was that when these rules were in effect they affected localized overwrites of the normal laws of physics. Redman’s ability to run in the air was one such example.

Gloe’s axe was another. As he fell past the nest he swung at the foundation with all his might. The nest had been built as sturdily as possible, but it couldn’t hold up to that. The amount of force involved was tremendous, and thanks to the magic it was a one way push. Gloe continued to fall unaffected, but the nest exploded in a cloud of flaming debris.

Redman hadn’t been expecting that. Nothing hit him hard enough to really hurt him, but his reflexive attempt to dodge the sudden burst of fire caused him to over-balance. Badly.

He plummeted. The magic he was using clearly let him run on the air, but he couldn’t kneel or crawl, so once he fell it was hard to catch himself. His feet flailed, gaining purchase on the air and causing him to spin until they were below him. Once he was upright his falling momentum caused him to land hard on the air, and he stumbled and fell again. The whole process started over.

Gloe didn’t stay to see how it ended. Either redman would recover before he hit the ground, or he wouldn’t. Regardless, this was his chance. Gloe snagged a branch on the way down. The sudden stop nearly broke his arm, but he’d heal. Nimbly dropping down to ground level he lit out at full speed.

The moment he was out of sight he zigged off at the right angle, then dove into the first gorebush he saw. It tore him up mightily, but he wiggled deeper inside, making certain to drag any torn clothing with him. Finally he was deep enough that he couldn’t make out anything outside the bush. Carefully he found a spot without thorns and lay back, waiting.

Redman had recovered. The intermittent flow of energy that Gloe was able to pick up proved that. Not ideal, but at least it allowed him to heal. And as long as he was receiving energy he knew redman was nearby. So he laid back and took himself a little nap.

...

When he awoke it was night. No energy flow either. He listened carefully. No threatening sounds nearby. Nice.

He very slowly and carefully wriggled out of the bush. It still slashed him up badly, but he was able to protect his more important bits while extracting without making too much noise. Once free he stopped to listen again. Still nothing.

Carefully, slowly, deliberately he crept through the night. His clothing was in tatters but his hat and boots were sufficiently intact to retain their magic. His night vision wasn’t enhanced, so he relied mostly on hearing. Any time he detected anything out of the ordinary he scurried up to the lowest branches and proceeded along them to gain some distance. Then he’d stop and listen. Only once everything was still would he drop back down.

He tried to stay as low as possible and kept an eye above, keeping maximum concealment between him and the sky. Every breeze, every shadow sculling across the moon caused him to freeze. His pace was intermittent, and at times glacial. Still he pressed on.

As the night began to draw to a close he began casting about for a place to hole up. Not an easy search. All the obvious advantageous spots had too high a probability of being already occupied, and anything up a tree was automatically disqualified. Redman would be looking for that. Gorebushes were also not a good idea. Without a steady source of energy he was still healing from crawling out of the last one, and he didn’t have a lot of food on him.

The first rays of the sun began to lighten the horizon, and still nothing presented itself. Reluctantly he found himself a large tree. Clambering up the side he took out a knife and very carefully traced a large pattern on it. Then he took his axe and gingerly tapped it along the perimeter. Still too hard. The bark shattered along with the underlying wood. Phooey.

Regardless he continued the cut, deepening and scooping it out with a combination of axe and knife until there was a Gloe-sized hollow in the trunk. Working quickly he gathered up the wood and stashed it under a nearby bush, then he took off his camouflage poncho and began using resin to stick pieces of bark to it. Once he had a reasonable simulacrum of the trunk’s surface he entered the hollow and used knives to secure the poncho over the hole.

It had looked okay when he’d tested it from the outside, but who knew if he’d been able to replicate that from the inside. He shrugged to himself. No helping it now. Instead he leaned back and tried to sleep.

Which was easier said than done. He’d hoped to be able to use his poncho as cushioning, or at least a small pillow. It was hard to find a comfortable way to rest his neck.

Also, the hollow was small and cramped, full of pokey splinters, and absolutely filled with the overpowering scent of sap…probably because it was dripping all over him. That was on top of still-stinging wounds from the gorebush and his general level of exhaustion from a very long day.

A normal person would have found sleep impossible. On top of the physical discomfort there was ample fodder for emotional turmoil. Fear of pursuit. Anxiety over the future. Grief at the loss of so much material and hard work. Anger at being pursued so relentlessly. Rage at the system that facilitated all this.

In fact Gloe felt all these things, and many more. But softly, quietly. His primary ability consumed human pain and emotional waves that threatened to overwhelm rationality. It didn’t affect the root of these things, or keep the feelings from being felt at all, but simply siphoned off excess that tried to pool up or wash away the ability to act deliberately. When it came to other people this ability was something he had to use (although since it was as natural as eating he often did so subconsciously,) but for himself the opposite was true. His ability passively fed on any overweening sensations he had, only ceasing if he actively suppressed it (which he only did once in a while, in order to ensure there were no unforeseen side-effects.)

It was this that allowed him to keep calm in even the worst situations. Gave him the leeway even to choose to be happy when things were dire. There was no risk of becoming detached, because he still felt everything plainly. What was removed was the looming, the swamping, the cascades of complications and worries. Every moment was a moment of clarity. Every crisis addressed from self-mastery and by the whole self. Every choice deliberately and consciously chosen.

Of course he still made mistakes. Almost constantly, when you really came down to it. But he did not become mired in regret and indecision. He accepted his inadequacies and his failures and continued to strive. Always motivated, always with a purpose, even if it was miniscule. It was a joyous way to live, and so, in his own way, he was a joyful person.

He was going to die someday. Perhaps in the next moment, perhaps not. He knew from experience that death was not the end, but he didn’t know what would come next. All he could do was try. Maybe this time he would manage a life worth living. Or perhaps not, but at least he could say he had given it his all. What more could you ask for?

On the run, lacerated, impoverished, weary and insecure, Gloe settled back in his makeshift hiding hole. After a time he managed to doze. Naturally he had horrific nightmares as his unconscious mind tried to process all the recent developments. His ability kept the unpleasantness from jolting him awake, but the experience was still horrendous. He slumped against oozing wooden walls around him, twitching as he ran in his sleep. And smiled.