After the visit to the old man my father and mother were al smiles. Probably content whit what he had to say about my development. I couldn’t stop smiling either, this was indeed good news. I was ahead of the curve in my [LVL], [Skill] and [Att]. But not so much it might make people suspicious about how far ahead I was. I figured that I wasn’t a normal person, with me having memories and experience before this life. And to be safe I wanted to keep that part of me a secret for as long as possible. So growing a little faster than other children wasn’t a problem per se but growing to fast and sticking out was. But for now all was good in my world.

Back at the market I was still contemplating my faith and what I was going to do, when my father gave me a stick with different meats on it. Being the carnivore that I am I started eating the moment I got my hands on it. He saw that and a knowing smile played along his face. My mother just laughed outright at my display of gluttony. Next we went to different stalls to get, what looked like, provisions for back home. Different sacks of food were loaded onto the cart and after they got everything that we needed we set off back onto the road. Leaving the town through a gate in a wooden palisade wall my father said to my mother “we need to hurry, the market and the visit tot the reverend took more time than usual. I we don’t get on with it we’ll have to ride in the dark”. Mother nodded understanding and prodded the donkey with the rains to make it move a little faster. The wobbling of the cart increased a bit but it was still a comfortable ride along the cobblestone road.

Some time passed and we reached the bridge and directly after that the dirt trail in calm silence. Then my father picked me up and sat me on his lap holding me across my abdomen with his arm. In his hand he had a piece of wood facing me. It was nothing special, just a log cut in half lengthwise which created a flat surface of about 10 by 15 centimeters. Out of his other hand a long sharp nail stuck out of his index finger. Slowly he carved a simple figurine onto the face of it, showing me exactly how he was going about it. Then he retracted his nail and picked up a second piece of wood from behind him, probably the other side of the split log. Then he gently took my right hand and straightened out my index finger holding it against the wood. Trying to let him know I pulled my hand just a short distance and let the sharp nail slid out of it. Watching the original and doing my best to remember each and every cut my dad had made I copied it to the best of my ability. It had some resemblance to the original but it was far from perfect, still I got a nice message.

Notification

~Crafting~

You have crafted a simple rune

“Rune of the warrior”

Material quality: Bad

Crafting quality: Adequate

Value: 1 Nickel

After I read the message my father took the piece off wood from me and inspected it. Shortly after he said to my mother that he was proud of me and the carving was already at adequate level. All while scratching behind my ears lovingly. This was becoming the best day I ever had, previous life or not. This feeling of belonging and proud parents was something I never had before. Then my father handed me his piece and I inspected it.

“Rune of the warrior”

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

A simple depiction of the Rune of the warrior on a cheap piece of wood

Quality: Good

Value: 1 Quart (25 Nickel)

This piece that he just scribbled on an old log was already of a “good” quality. I had a long way to go to even get to the same neighborhood. So I tried to get my hands on a new log to get to work on. Not able to pronounce what I exactly wanted I held out the Rune and cried out “Wo…Wo…Wo”. My father looked at me and shook his head and said softly “Rune” to me. I shook my head to him in response and tried to say wood again coming out garbled as “Wo” again pointing at the forest next to us. “No rune” he said to this. Dropping the rune I pointed at the forest again calling out “Wo” another time. Now my mother proclaimed to my father “I think he wants a new piece of wood to carve”. Not waiting for my mother to react he pushed me in her hands and jumped off into the woods.

Within a moment mother and me heard a creak and ensuing that a crashing sound coming from just next to the trail. This all happened before mother could stop the cart, riling up the donkey with the noise and sudden movement. The man was a blur, like a man possessed. Just after mom stopped the cart and calmed the donkey down heavy thuds came from the back of the cart. Scaring the donkey again. Father was throwing log after log into the back smiling like a mad man. Apparently me asking for more wood for carving was hitting this man’s soft spot. After the thuds stopped he appeared from the back holding a log split in half, handing it over to me.

Still grinning he clambered up to the box and we set of again. He pulled me back onto his lap and held the rune he made up to me. Calmly studying his work and trying to replicate it I carved the next piece. The quality of my work was exactly the same as the former one, but I was enjoying this one a lot more. Only because I was making my father proud and doing something he appreciated. After I was done with carving the icon I dropped it in my lap and cried out “Wo” again. This cracked my mother up and dad chortled, handing me a new log.

This was how the journey went on for a while, me carving and calling “Wo” once I was done. Mother and father snickering every time I did it. But slowly the sun was setting and it was getting darker. Not that it bothered me that much with my feline eyes I could see really well in the dark. I imagined my parents could see just as well. But looking up I saw their demeanor was changing from cheerful to alert. Both had their ears pointing up and swiveling about. Were before they were bantering each other now I saw sharp expressions.

Not knowing what was happening, but convinced that this was no longer a tranquil ride back home I stopped carving. Holding on to the last piece of wood I was carving I tried to be as quiet as possible. Not daring to drop it to the floor afraid that this would instigate something. By this time I had my ears pointing up also, trying to perceive what was putting them on edge.

It was quiet, to quiet to be natural. The steps of the donkey and the squeak of the cart were the only things making any sound. The sound off the stream we were following and the rustling of the forest were completely absent. Nothing like the sounds there were on the way to the market. It was getting really eerie. The moon was full on the sky softly illuminating the path in soft blue hue’s.

For about an hour nothing could be heard but the sound of the donkey and the cart. Then slowly the sound off rippling water and rustling leaves came back. Although only an hour had passed it felt a lot longer. Not long after the sounds came back I saw that my parents were visibly relieved. Their expressions were still tense but not as tight as they were before. I knew I something was amiss, but in the safe hands of my father I felt like nothing could harm me. Luxating in this feeling I was slowly drifting off, it was a long day and I was beat.

While I was sleeping we reached our home. Unaware of what was happening around me, my parents set to work. Mother put me to bed and started unloading the cart. Father put the donkey in his pen. After that he checked the fence and the gates. All around the compound he put up torches dispelling the blue hue of the moon for a warm orange. Neither off them went to bed that night, every time I woke up I heard my mother scuffling about in the house. From just outside the window of my bedroom I heard my father humming to himself. To tired to stay up and not able to contribute anything I slept. It was not a restful night for any of us, but the sun eventually came to great us, coloring the horizon in warm reds and oranges.