The village of Briarton was calm and quiet in the early morning hours before the sun’s glow crept up the horizon. Soft incandescent light spilled out from under the door and the cracks between the window shutters at the baker’s place, but there were no other signs of stirring on my way to the boundary. In fact, the only sound aside from the weather vane of a nearby house squeaking in the breeze were the soles of my boots that scraped the cobblestones. Instead of taking the road all the way out of town, I cut between two buildings and made my way across the empty field that acted as a buffer zone between Briarton and the surrounding wilderness. My feet crunched on the crispy ice that coated the well-tended grass. The dampness in the air made for an unpleasant trek with no cover to disperse the wind.

The barrier wasn’t usually visible, but the way the moonlight now reflected off the icy field made it shimmer. I held up a hand and touched the tips of my fingers to it for a moment before pushing them through; and the sensation reminded me of a thin pudding. I withdrew my hand and steeled myself. A new chapter, a beginning to my adventure. In the instant I stepped through the barrier, I felt a slight tug on the back of my neck. The fresh brand, the intricate crest of the Adventurer’s Guild forever emblazoned there, tingled as if it had a fish hook threaded through its lines and some invisible force was reeling me in back towards the town. I pressed on and took the first couple steps into the wilderness through the pudding-like energy field. It didn’t feel physically different outside, but there was something exciting about it nonetheless. I’d never been outside of the barrier; there was little reason for non-adventurers to leave the town. We were fortunate enough to have a crystal engine, rare for a town as small as ours, but we cherished it and the safety it provided us.

The immediate area around the barrier was relatively safe. Few aggressive monsters roamed this close to the barriers. I took this time to explore and familiarize myself with the land. I readjusted my knapsack often and grumbled under my breath about the weight as if I’d loaded it up with rocks instead of supplies. I felt it in my upper back and shoulders before the end of the first hour. In my excitement, I’d been overly zealous with my packing. I’d no intentions of wandering far from town, but what if I was tracking something for a while? I’d need snacks. What if there wasn’t a clean running water source? I’d need a water skin. What if I discovered a new mutation? I’d need a notebook to record everything and a map to point out its habitat. Got hurt? Bandages and medical supplies. Got lost? Compass. Vanquished monsters? Pouch for crystals. Got dirty or tore my clothes? Extra set. Found a cave? Torch. Stumbled on a valuable herb or ingredient to sell? Harvesting knife. It killed my back, but at least I was prepared for almost any situation. I stumbled often and had to take slow, high steps to avoid tripping over roots and rocks. Thankfully, there was no one around to snicker at my avian-like walk. 

I took my time surveying the landscape. Once you breached the barrier there was an area of open field before Briarwood Forest. The majority of the forest was pine and other coniferous trees, and it had a patchy underbrush that served as a perfect hiding spot for small creatures. Being a quaint town, there was scarce literature on the local wildlife of Briarton, but there were notes compiled in the upstairs at The Tavern. In my rush to embark as soon as possible, I hadn’t made the trip over to the local adventurers’ hall to do any research. I found a low, smooth boulder and sat down to rummage around in my bag for a moment. By this time the sun was just beginning to warm the air. The stone beneath me was greedily absorbing all the surrounding heat, including from my backside. It was warmer here; the trees around me diffused the breeze from earlier and above me the treetops creaked and whined. I pulled out the sleek journal and cracked it open. It was bare, except for the single line on the inside cover that read, “This journal belongs to Erron Black” in my untidy scrawl. I paused for a moment and debated what to write for my first entry, but heard a rustling sound nearby.

I stuffed the journal back into the knapsack and drew my small knife. New to the life of an adventurer, I didn’t have the means to buy a big fancy weapon and I didn’t even know what kind of weapon I’d ultimately use. In the interim, the knife was handy and easy to conceal. Before being given the adventurer’s brand, candidates had to pass a series of tests to ensure they wouldn’t be wandering off to die in the wilderness. Basic survival and combat were a big part of the required training. I’d done just fine with the combat lessons using the knife, so I stuck with it for the time being.

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From beneath a tuft of underbrush next to my sitting place I heard a squeak and furious rustling. I knelt down, knife out and poised. With it, I pushed aside the offending vegetation, and from beneath the brush darted a squirrel. From my proximity I could see the golden glimmer as the sun hit it, and I grinned at my luck. Finding a rare monster on my first incursion to the forest was fortunate. It wasn’t an aggressive creature, but I didn’t want to pounce and spook it, either. I took stock of my environment and contemplated how to corner it. Rare critters like this were more valuable alive than dead, especially ones that didn’t offer much in the way of cooking or crafting materials. I didn’t know of any recipes that called for squirrels in food, alchemy, or enchanting. As limited as my information and experience was, I knew a few people in town who would love to boast about having a golden squirrel pet.

Besides their increased value, rare monsters were more clever than their counterparts, adding to the challenge of capturing or killing any of them. If I could catch this one on my first day out, it would bring in a good bit of coin and validate me as a real adventurer. The affirmation alone would be worth it. Of all the things in my bag, a net was not one of them. I made a mental note to look for one in town later. I’d worry about where to put it when I got to that point. Trying not to startle it, I wiggled my way closer to its position. Its head cocked to one side, and it was looking at me with its beady eyes and a come-at-me attitude.

I reached into my pack and felt around for the snacks I’d packed earlier in the morning. My fingers brushed against the crackers and I brandished them, leaving the knife on the bed of leaves beside me. I felt ridiculous, but sucked up my pride and made kissy noises to the squirrel, trying to coax it into approaching me and taking the food. It leaned forward and sniffed the air, and I felt triumph wash over me as I whispered to my new friend. “Come here, silly squirrel friend. I just want to stuff you in my bag and sell you to someone who will put you in a hideous knit sweater and parade you around, boasting about your lustrous coat.” He took a step towards the cracker, and I made my move too soon.Mid dart towards him, he spooked and darted off across the forest floor as swiftly as he appeared. I snatched my bag up and chased after him, careful tact forgotten.

Out of nowhere, a wave of terror washed over me and I fell to my knees, grabbing at my chest. My heart pounded and a tightness I couldn’t explain left me breathless. Gulping down a few breaths of air I tried to steady myself. I closed my eyes, leaned forward and rested my forehead on the backs of my hands. Around me, birds chirped and small animals rustled through the underbrush. I could hear a stream in the distance, a melodic trickling over smooth stones. Everything was normal, safe. What happened?

For a moment I nearly turned tail and bolted back towards the barrier. It took me a long moment to realize what happened. Living in the safety of the village, every moment of the day was accompanied by the gentle, lulling hum of the crystal engine. From birth, every second of my life was within earshot of the engine. It meant safety, and it was imprinted into my being. This far from the village and, by association, the barrier and engine, the sound was replaced by a jolting silence. Once I realized this, I could pull myself together. After a small pep talk and a few minutes, I stood again. We took the barriers for granted, and nothing put that into sharper relief than those moments of panic.

I shook my head and reached for my knife. With a sinking heart I realized I’d left it somewhere during my chase. Worse, as I surveyed my surroundings, I couldn’t tell which direction I’d come from. All morning I’d been aware of which direction I’d come from, how far in each direction I’d gone, and where I was in relation to town. I’d been following along on the crude map I’d gotten at my induction into the Adventurer’s League. Now after chasing the squirrel and my dizzy spell, I was completely disoriented. It’s okay, I told myself. Don’t panic. You’re not THAT far from town! If nothing else, someone will stumble upon you and help you back to town. At least you have snacks! The thought of needing to be rescued and escorted back to town by a seasoned adventurer was mortifying.

Think, think! I told myself. Then, it hit me. Right here, where I’d had my panic attack, was the trigger spot. This was where my body had a meltdown because I could no longer hear the crystal engine humming. It wasn’t a conscious thing, so my body was a dowsing rod for the sound of the engine. I took a couple steps in one direction and waited. Nothing happened, so I backtracked and started over in a new direction. On the second try, after six or seven paces my body relaxed and if I strained my ears, I thought I could hear the sweet humming I knew so well. I took off in that direction, and soon the sound was audible. Defeated but not discouraged, I headed back to the barrier to cover my scrape and vowed my revenge on that evil little forest rat.