Gerry woke with the morning sun under a poor shelter of fallen branches that he had leaned against a tree. It had seemed like a good spot to him when he was tired: the ground was flattish and not too rocky and there was a glade of tall grass nearby. He had laid out tufts of the long grass for a bed and more for a cover to make sleeping outside in the cold less miserable. Despite his efforts he ached all over. He resolved to himself that he would make sure to stop tonight with enough time to make a better bed.

As he got up he stretched out his aching back. First to the left and then to the right. He disassembled his lean-to and spread out the grass around so that the area would be less conspicuous if anyone passed by. Gerry was not worried about someone trailing him—his journal had let him know that his pursuit had been called off—but something about leaving his work standing there felt wrong. Gerry felt it must have been his wilderness skills kicking in. He had gained another two levels in wilderness skills as he settled in for the night: one for building the lean-to and one for making his bed.

After he had struck his campsite for he continued on through the woods, walking stick in hand, away from the rising sun. He found that moving through the woods was easier today. The soles of his feet did not hurt as much as they did the day before, and finding paths took less effort.

“I am going to see how far I can push this leveling thing today,” Gerry said out loud. He tried doing more push ups intermittently as he walked as they seemed to be a measurable way to test how leveling worked.

It took 25 push ups to get the first skill point, thought Gerry, if I can figure out how many it will take to get the second skill point than I can look for a relationship between them.

The thing about doing push-ups though is that it is hard to do a lot of them. Since he got the skill point Gerry found it was easy to get to 25, but things got much harder after that. He got to 30 twice during the walk, and hit 31 push-ups once, but he was hungry and thirsty and his energy was fading.

As the sun was almost directly overheard, he heard the faint sound of fast-flowing water in the distance and headed towards it. A few minutes later he was beside a vigorous stream, with large boulders jutting out of the water created rapids. He went up to the bank and drank his fill, using his hands as a cup.

“There’s one of my lower Maslov’s down,” said Gerry.

After he drank he got the feeling that if he was going to find any form of civilization around here it would likely be by the water. So, on this theory, he followed the stream towards the afternoon sun. As he ambled, other small streams fed into the stream and it grew to three meters wide, roughly the size of a lane on the road. It still surprized Gerry that although he had no memory of ever seeing a lane or a road, he knew what one was (and he knew that cars and trucks traveled on them.)

The stream, now more aptly a river, bent and wound through the landscape. As he followed the river he gained elevation as the water receded from the banks. The river grew louder and more turbulent as he continued climbing. Over the next crest in the hill was a small still pool. The sun glistened off the pool where it was not blocked by the shadow of the larger hill. Gerry could hear a waterfall around the bend.

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Seeing no way forward other than through the water, Gerry removed his underwear resting them on top of his walking stick (though as he had not other clothes to wear over them, perhaps the better term would be small-clothes) and started heading through the calm waters. It came up no deeper than his midriff and he made it across without incident.

Once he reached the other bank of the lake he put his small-clothes back on and walked down the shore a bit to look at the waterfall. Standing in thigh-high water beneath the waterfall was a young woman.

“Well, turn around,” she said.

Gerry quickly turned around as instructed.

“Do you have any food?” asked Gerry. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a couple of days of hiking and I haven’t had anything to eat. The grass was starting to look appetizing.”

“Oh you poor thing,” she said. “We have some bread left. You might want to take a quick dip though. You look quite ridiculous.”

Gerry looked down at his stomach and saw that he was covered with dirt from his travels, except where it had been washed away by his crossing the pond leaving a line across his stomach where the water had stopped. His hands were covered with dirt—his fingernails were dark crescents.

“I guess I should” said Gerry, “I am normally much cleaner then this. At least I think I am. I just woke up in a field yesterday. My memory’s shot, but I have strong feelings about some things. It is quite disconcerting.”

Gerry felt the edge of a blade at his throat. It was a small bronze blade, held by a boy, barely into puberty.

“Brother,” said the girl in the water, “look at him, he is tired and hungry, and he turned around nicely when I asked. He doesn’t seem like he is much of a threat.”

“Whatever you say Drew” said the small boy, removing his knife from Gerry’s throat. His voice was barely above a whisper, but his sister, seemed to hear him clearly, like she was used to his soft talking and had given up on curing him of it.

“Thanks Coglan,” said Drew. “I appreciate the sentiment though. Just a little misplaced on this one, by all appearances. But then again appearances can be deceiving. You can turn around now, Sir.

Gerry turned around to see that while they were talking Drew had got out of the water, and got dressed. She was wearing a wool dress with an alternating cream and brown triangle patter knitted into the fabric. Coglan still carried his knife at the ready.

“It’s Gerry. And again I appreciate the bread, I can just wash my hands and have a bite. Then if you wouldn’t mind directing me to the nearest inhabited place, I can be on my way."

Coglan went over to get the bread from a woolen shoulder satchel on the ground.

“Hold on a minute Coglan,” said Drew. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but fair’s fair. You walked in on me bathing, I am going to have to insist that you take a dip before you eat.”

Gerry thought about protesting. He was already walking around without much on. But he thought better of it. If she was willing to give him something to eat, and all he needed to do was hop in the pool, then he would hop in the pool.

Gerry laid his stave on the ground and stripped out of his small clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on top of his staff, then ran into the stream filled with energy at the thought of the meal waiting for him. When the water got to his thighs he dove in head first.

“Not much modesty in him, is there?” Drew asked Coglan.

Gerry quickly scrubbed himself. When he couldn’t see any more dirt on him he started heading out of the pool.

“Don’t forget behind the ears,” said Drew.

Gerry scooped up some water and quickly washed behind his ears. Then he rushed out of the pool, wiped away the excess water with quick motions of his hands, and put his small clothes back on.

“Now,” said Gerry, “you said something about some bread.”