“I should have just gone back to sleep instead of dealing with all of this. All I wanted to do was just learn some cool magic, make friends, do normal stuff, but no… I just had to wind up here in the middle of an apparently magical forest at the farthest end of the eastern continent.”

“Come on Damion, it’s not that bad.” A bodiless voice echoed through my skull.

“Yes, it is Narrator. Now shut it and let me focus.”

Normally, I would just find a tree to sleep in, but rain is rarely pleasant when you have to sleep in it. Especially when I’m so close to Aldir.

“You do know there’s still a whole day’s travel at the bare minimum right Damion? Narrator boomed in my head, seemingly ignoring my request for silence.

“Not now Narrator,” I responded under my breath, furiously rubbing the only remaining dry sticks together to start a fire. Why am I doing this again? Right, something, something, I don’t want to die in this wretched forest.

“Come on man,” Narrator said, a little softer this time. “It’s not that bad. You found a cave to sleep in! It’s not in plain sight so you don’t have to worry about being mauled by a bear! Even if you don’t get this fire going, you have a sleeping bag.”

I know he’s right, but I don’t want to admit it. The monotony of travel has gotten to me. It’s been two weeks of trekking through nothing but forest. The only break in sequence has been the occasional stream or hill.

“Hey!” Narrator shouts, trying to catch me off guard. “You got a spark.”

Ignoring him, I tried to drown out his words with my own thoughts. I’m almost out of food, the only rations I have left are a few sticks of jerky and lukewarm water. None of the rivers have had decent water because we’re so close to the ocean, but I knew that coming in.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Yo!” Narrator shouts once again.

Damn it Narrator, why are you like this? Had I known the god’s voice would personify itself in my skull, I would’ve stayed home. I don’t even know where he came from! I crossed into Aldir’s Forest and he just popped into my head like a newborn… Let’s not continue that thought.

“DAMION!!” Narrator screams at me.

“WHAT?” I shout back, not even bothering to keep the conversation in my head at this point.

“Fire.”

I look down at the two sticks in my hand and drop them, only now realizing that the sticks had caught a flame and almost burnt the sleeves of my shirt. Quickly, I swatted the twigs towards the kindling and branches I’d collected to ignite a steady campfire. I reached around my back to loosen the bag hanging from my shoulders and take out what remains of my jerky and water.

“Gotta say, never understood how that bag works.” Narrator thought, somehow loud enough for me to hear. Although, I do have to say it is weird how this bag works. My father gave it to me a few years ago and told me how to use it, but it almost seemed like he was the one who made it considering I’ve never seen another like it.

“It is kind of odd” I responded, “I got it from dad years ago, but he never told me where he got it.”

“I know Damion. I live in your head and it’s not the hardest thing to tell what you’re thinking.”

…So he’s a mind reader. Somehow that makes more sense than it should. It definitely makes more sense than trying to figure out why he’s freeloading in my mind.

“I know just as much as you do Damion.” Narrator said, almost as if he knew I would ask… oh, right. “Like you said earlier, I’m pretty much a newborn that exists only in your head. I do have to say though, it is unnerving only being able to see and hear what you do but having no control over it. Maybe I should try moving your body like a puppet. That would be fun.”

“I would very much appreciate you not doing that Narrator.” I shot back. Finishing up the last of my food, I resolved myself to reach Aldir by tomorrow night as I pulled the bedroll out of my bag. As far as I know, the bag doesn’t have a size limit on what you can put in it. Like, seriously. I haven’t tested it yet, but I want to try putting a house in there. It wouldn’t make the house lighter, but it would be really funny to make people try and lift a bag that weighs hundreds of tons.

“Good night cupcake” I hear softly echo in the flickering light of the campfire. “I’m sure you’ll reach town tomorrow.”

“I’m sure I will Narrator.” I say, drifting into sleep not long after.