It turns out walking directly into the rising sun really sucks. That first day… sheesh, was that really two months ago? At least this will be the last time we have to do this–for this trip. We should make it back to the shed well before sundown, and then tomorrow we’ll start the three-day trek Northward to…agh, I can’t remember the name of the town in the forest.

Looking to my left under the brim of a coarse-woven grass hat, Yojoti was walking in parallel about fifty feet away, dutifully scanning for game. “Oy! Yojoti!” I called, “The town to the North, what is the name again, please?”

“Trevor, how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet while we’re moving?” Yojoti admonished me, “There isn’t much for us to hunt out here, and I don’t want to scare away what there is!”

“I am sorry, Yojoti. I will watch,” I sheepishly replied.

At least my language skills have improved. I suppose I could say I’m “fluent”, at least at the level of a ten-year-old. I’ll have to pick up slang, euphemisms, idioms, and more vocabulary as I go, but at least now we can part ways without worrying about how I’ll be able to make my way. I guess it’s true that “immersion” is the best way to learn a language. But damn if I didn’t feel like an idiot for at least a month.

As I mused, my eyes swept the horizon for movement atypical of the rhythmic waves of wind across the grass appropriately named “Everburn”. I had learned from Yojoti that the most common game here in the grasslands were rabbits, and the only way to tell where they were was to keep an eye out for patches of grass that were either more still than the rest, or moving in a different direction than the rest. It was for these signs that we watched during our march.

Yojoti was obviously better at this practice than I was, having nearly four decades of experience. His father had been a hunter, and had passed the necessary skills on to Yojoti as early as he could remember. That’s why I only had the faintest tickling that a patch of grass was off, about twenty yards in front and to the left, when I noticed Yojoti’s silent crouch in my peripheral vision. I followed suit, as he had instructed time and again, while he readied his bow.

You don’t get much of a skin off of a rabbit, but Yojoti says they’re in good demand anyway as lining for light coats and gloves–especially for women.

While I watched, Yojoti strung his bow, nocked a blunt-tipped arrow, and drew. He must have had a better visual angle than I did, because after just a moment he loosed the whistling projectile to thump into the patch of grass.

The rabbit, dead before it knew it was in danger, never made a sound. Yojoti stepped over to the arrow and dropped it into his quiver, before skinning and cleaning the animal. He tossed the pelt onto the makeshift sled I was pulling behind me, and tied the carcass to the side using some of the Everburn grass. Being the “beast of burden” for the eighty-odd pelts of rabbits, coyotes, foxes, and a singular deer, was my way of repaying Yojoti for his kindness to me. He had taught me his language, as well as hunting and foraging skills–especially how to locate water! It turned out that the plains were shot through with streams coming down from the mountains to the West, and there was one about half a mile South of my shed. He had also provided preserved food when we had unsuccessful hunting days, on top of dealing with my suburbanite ineptitude at most tasks that took any measure of skill–more than likely slowing down his hunting progress. He had even woven the hat I was wearing as protection from the sun.

And boy, am I grateful. I never had many friends in my world, but spending weeks in the wilderness with someone will definitely build a bond, whether you want it to or not. I wonder whether I’ll see him again once we part ways in…that town to the North.

“Great shot, Yojoti!” I congratulated him. “We will eat rabbit and potato stew tonight! Now will you answer my question from before?”

“The town is called Holsworthy, for the fourth time,” he chided, “Settled initially by, you guessed it, the Holsworths. It’s a frontier mining town; there’s not much there outside the mine and its shipping, smithy, furrier, stable, and of course the tavern! We’ll definitely need to make a visit there,” he continued with a wink.

“There’s also a mercantile, which brings in goods from closer to the capital, but I don’t have much business with them. You, on the other hand, will probably want to get acquainted if you want to do anything besides hunt or farm out here at the edge of nowhere,“ Yojoti finished with a wry smile, sweeping his arm across the grasslands.

I scratched my beard–which was now half as long as Yojoti’s–as I considered his words. I definitely didn’t relish the idea of being a subsistence farmer barely able to survive through the winter, and I doubted I would ever have the senses and reflexes necessary in order to hunt for a living.

I come from a place where my greatest hardship was when the store was out of my favorite kind of chips! Well, aside from my wife dying. But seriously, losing modern conveniences is the worst part about being here! Disposable razors, shaving cream, toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, laundry detergent, washing machines, honestly anything to do with hygiene, I miss. I wonder whether that mercantile would carry things like that? If so, where would they have come from?

We walked mostly silently, for a few more hours, spotting three more rabbits, but only taking one. As the sun reached its zenith and I was pushing “hangry”, I spotted an angular shape on the horizon: the shed.

We had returned to the shed once before during the trip, as we had crisscrossed the plains in search of game. The first night sleeping on the shed floor, before we had left on the hunt, had been awful. But going back and doing it again after a month of sleeping on the ground instead had been absolutely heavenly! Then, we had picked through the shed’s contents again, bringing with us anything we had realized the need for during the first month. Now it was time to rest once more before heading Northward.

As we approached the Westward side of the shed, about fifty yards out, Yojoti crouched once more and I followed suit. I hadn’t noticed any movement or lack thereof in the grass, likely because I had been staring straight at the shed in relief, but I trusted Yojoti’s senses more than mine. I scanned the grass as Yojoti once again strung his bow and nocked an arrow; this time, though, I noticed a sharp broadhead tip on it rather than the much more blunt type used for rabbits.

Is there a coyote or a fox over there? How could I have missed that? They definitely stick up over the grass. Maybe he caught a shadow through the crawlspace? I wonder whether it’s noticed us yet. I doubt it, since it’s not streaking away–

While I was trying to decide which canid might have been in the vicinity, an entirely different dog-like creature rounded the shed, immediately locking onto us and crouching into a hunting stance, claws at the ready and a snarl in its muzzle.

Oh shit! A gnoll! Is this their territory or something? Is there some kind of settlement out here that we haven’t seen? Why the hell have there been TWO of them by the shed? What are we gonna do? I had the element of surprise last time, but I definitely can’t do anything toe-to-toe against that thing! It’s hu–

My frantic thoughts were interrupted by a twang and whistling sound as Yojoti loosed the arrow. It arced in its gentle parabola, and struck the gnoll in the face. The arrow was heavy and sharp, but not heavy or sharp enough to make it through a skull. It did, however, glance over the monster’s eye, causing it to howl and clutch its hands to the wound, falling to its knees. Yojoti wasted no time nocking and drawing another arrow, now marching closer to the incapacitated beast. Just as it turned toward us and dropped the hand from its non-injured eye, Yojoti loosed again, at half the distance. The arrow pierced the gnoll’s throat and passed through for about half its length, the sight causing a nervous giggle to burst from me before it fell to its back, gurgling.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Holy crap, he didn’t break a sweat! He’s done this before, I guess? I’ll have to ask him about it. Wait, it’s still breathing! Barely.

I pulled the machete from my tool belt as we approached the nearly-dead monster; Yojoti had also drawn his belt knife, but didn’t appear very concerned. The gnoll twitched one arm toward us as pink, frothy blood welled from the wound in its throat, but it was obviously in no condition to do us any harm.

Yojoti crouched next to the monster, and drove his knife between two ribs into the heart without hesitation. The gnoll jumped once more, then lay still as the last of its life drained around the hilt of Yojoti’s blade.

Yojoti withdrew the knife and wiped it on the gnoll’s loincloth before putting it away.

Now that the danger had passed, my brain kicked back into gear with what I considered to be a very urgent question: “How in the ‘hell’ did you know the gnoll was there? I did not see anything!” The word “hell” spoken in English, because I didn’t know the equivalent in Ozryn, the language spoken here.

In answer, Yojoti said “Share status” and beckoned me over.

I remember how funny it was when I learned the word for “share”, and connected it to the phrase Yojoti had originally taught me for the “Status” window. No wonder he couldn’t see my English one, I didn’t say “share” in front of it.

Pointing at the “Skills” section, “See that ‘Perception’ skill there?” He asked.

I nodded the affirmative. Thankfully, since Ozryn was a phonetic language, I didn’t have much trouble picking out the word I had never seen before by matching it to the spoken sounds. Yojoti had taught me the “alphabet” of characters over our time together, so I could more or less read, unless it was a word I had never heard before.

“It allows me to sense game or danger within a radius, when I use it,” He continued. “I don’t need it most of the time because my natural senses are plenty, but I did as we approached the shed for exactly this kind of reason. We couldn’t see anything on the other side of it, and anything or anyone within eyesight of it is definitely going to come to investigate.”

“I understand, thank you,” I responded.

Yojoti nodded and said, “Now, because of that skill, I can tell you that we’re safe to start clearing the Everburn from in front of the shed again,” He clapped my shoulder “That is, after you remove our ______. The Department of Highway Safety office in Holsworthy will have a little reward for us taking down two gnolls.”

“Uh, Yojoti, what was that word?” I asked, “What I’m supposed to be removing? It is not ‘ear’ like you did to the first one, is it?”

“Ah!” He exclaimed with his trademark point at me, “New word: ‘trophy’. Proof that you killed it. Like the antlers on a deer.”

“I understand, ‘trophy’,” I acknowledged with a nod again. “So there’s an organization that rewards you for killing monsters?”

“There sure is! As well as assigning–new word: Contract. An agreement for work to be done–assigning contracts to professionals who do things like this for a living.”

Ah, so like an adventurer’s guild, but government-sponsored. I guess that’s where we have to take these gnoll ears.

“We are far from any highway,” I began, “why would they want monster parts from out here?”

Yojoti thought for a moment before responding, “The way I understand it, the original purpose of the Department was to sponsor killing monsters along roads, to protect trade routes. It eventually grew to accepting any monster subjugation, since fewer monsters in general makes roads safer by extension.”

Grimacing down at the fairly gruesome form, I asked “So there are people that do things like this all the time? They must have tougher stomachs than I do.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Yojoti responded jovially. “Just get it done so we can drag the body off for the scavengers.”

I squatted down and sliced the ears off as quickly as I could. As I stood, I asked Yojoti about the treatment of the body.

“You mean we won’t bury it like the other one?”

“Nah,” he answered. “It’s not typical to do anything with monster carcasses beyond collecting the useful parts, unless they’re in the way of something. I just helped you bury the other one because you already had the grave dug and I couldn’t very well tell you there had been no point. Especially since you couldn’t talk yet!”

“I understand,” I responded once more, and bent to grab one of the gnoll’s ankles.

“Wait just a minute,” Yojoti interrupted me, “let’s get these furs off the sled and we can use it to drag the body away.”

I said “I understand,” yet again, then dragged the sled around to the front of the shed where I unlocked the padlock, and we piled the furs and other contents of the sled just inside. When we came back around the rear, the gnoll was right where we had left it. The two of us awkwardly slid the body onto the sled, which was much too small, leaving its limbs dragging the ground. Still, the saplings bent into runners offered less friction against the ground than the body on its own, so we made it about a hundred yards away without too much effort.

When we dumped the body over sideways, it pushed the arrow farther through the neck. Yojoti bent down to inspect the tip, and gestured me over.

“Trevor, how can you tell whether an arrow is fit to use again?” He wanted to know.

“Uh, right,” I began, “There are three things to look for. Whether the head is still firmly attached, whether the shaft has cracked or broken, and…Uh…”

“Whether there’s any missing fletching,” Yojoti finished for me, yanking the arrow the rest of the way through and out, then turning the shaft to point the intact, bloody feathers toward me

“Yes, that” I agreed, then added, “I think I will add my own criteria about how dirty it is, as well. That would not be ‘sanitary’ to use on game we will eat.”

Yojoti raised his eyebrows and asked, “What won’t it be?”

“Safely clean, remember?” I answered his question about the English word I had used, since there was no equivalent in Ozryn.

Yojoti chuckled and shook his head before answering, “Oh yeah, your ‘tiny monsters’ that live on soiled things. Well, we’re not boiling a perfectly good arrow shaft to appease your sensitive stomach.”

I shrugged and bent to grab the tow rope of the sled before we turned back toward the shed. It’s up to him whether he wants to do anything to protect himself. Yojoti isn’t stupid, just ignorant. I, for one, will continue at least rinsing my hands as often as I can. Obviously we don’t have any soap. Wonder if I could make some? I never actually looked into it, but the basic ingredients are lye and fat, right? And I think I can make lye just out of ashes and water. I’ll have to think more about that later, after we get this haul dropped off.

Once we made it back to the shed, we retrieved the shovels from inside and set to work clearing the “yard” area of Everburn grass again. This is tough, but definitely much better than setting fire to the entire region, taking us with it.

For midday meal, we roasted the rabbits we had taken that morning, along with boiling some potatoes. I wish we had some salt! Yojoti’s dried herbs help a bunch, but it’s still a little lacking compared to what I’m used to. Regardless, I should be grateful to have any food at all. At the same time, I’ve definitely lost those love handles I was worried about. It seems tromping across the wilderness for weeks really trims you down, who would have thought?

After the meal, I boiled more water and dropped as much of my mess kit into it as would fit, to kill the “tiny monsters.” I suppose Yojoti had taken more stock in the existence of germs than I thought, because he dunked his in as well, once mine were out.

The rest of the afternoon was more or less spent napping in the shade, between stints of pretending to mend gear. Once the sun sank below the horizon I spent a while scrolling through pictures of my previous life, behind some new ones of this world.

I’m so curious about why Yojoti isn’t freaked out by this thing; there’s no way he could have seen anything like it before. Or indeed most of the things that came along with me in the shed. The waterproof nylon canvas of the pack, solar panels, plastic water jugs, going on ad nauseum! Although I suppose he could just have chalked it up to “magic, I don’t have to understand it”. Regardless, I’m grateful I haven’t had to do without it. Besides never seeing Patricia’s face again, I would have missed things like notes, alarms, and a calculator, even without the network capabilities. Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve made things much more bearable for me, here.