"Whoa... Whoa... Easy now." Orwell supported my arm, stopping me just shy of falling. I could walk now, which was a relief. Not very well, mind you. I could probably do a lap of Orwell's house, at a stretch... Maybe. Villagers had started visiting me too, no doubt under pressure from Orwell.

Or maybe he threatened them. I wouldn't put it past him.

The older woman I had watched escort the adults back inside away from the bandits called herself Granny Momo, and despite my asking for her proper name, she insisted I refer to her as such. Orwell called her that also, so it wasn't too embarrassing, I suppose. She was the village chief, and basically ruled her kingdom with an iron fist. Orwell had once made a face at her behind her back, much to my enjoyment, and she had swung around, betraying the speed a woman of her age should be capable of, in order to swat him harshly in the head. Also much to my enjoyment. Laughs were few and far between lately, so-

Wait... lately? When was the last time I actually genuinely laughed before being transported here? Am I forgetting because it's not something you tend to remember, or was it really that long ago? Regardless, Granny Momo always brought me a pastry treat, which she called 'Fuddies'. They were delicious. Truly, genuinely delicious. Sometimes she would come with her grandchildren, the oldest was a young teenager- No, again, he would be older than me now, wouldn't he. Being in a different body is tough work. Anyway, the oldest was a boy maybe two years older than I currently am, at about fifteen, and the youngest, a cute, freckled, red-haired pigtailed girl, was probably ten.

They were alright.

The youngest was extremely blunt about my injuries, especially my hair, often asking to play with it, and the oldest was quite clearly being forced to be here. I appreciated the effort, but I was way past my teenage years, so making conversation with them was tough. Not to mention they were from a different world, which widened our frames of reference even further. Jonglir, or Yonglir as it was pronounced, the oldest, only wanted to talk about one thing. 'How good of a hunter are you?', 'What is the largest Gir you've ever seen?', 'Have you hunted Gir?'. My answers didn't appease him. Apparently asking "What is a Gir?" is grounds enough to warrant staring in abject astonishment, before wordlessly leaving the room. I can't help it Jonglir, I'm not from this world. I wouldn't expect a martian to know what a smartphone is now, would I?

The young girl, Yuili, was my favourite. She had a talent. A talent superceding any I've ever seen before. She could make an almost infinite supply of fuddies appear from every one of her pockets.

The best part?

She wasn't averse to trading me for them. One fuddie per minute she was allowed to play with my hair. Perfect. Apparently it was the first time she's ever seen someone with white hair. Her grandmother was getting up there in age, but still only sported a scant few grey hairs, nestled sporadically within her golden brown hair.

Orwell at first was opposed to her climbing on my bed in order to play with my hair, but I assured him I didn't mind, not to mention Granny Momo's glare, threatening him with all sorts of obscenities should he try and reprimand her granddaughter.

There were a few others that visited, a few hunters, who were surprisingly a pretty even spread between men and women. I suppose biology doesn't mean much when there are humans capable of tussling with a who-knows how tall Demon. Sorry. Daemon. That was something I had learned rather quickly. People were extremely reluctant to mention Demons existing, and when they did, they would always refer to them as Daemons. I asked Orwell, but apparently I was the weird one, and 'Demons' wasn't a spelling he had ever heard of. It was a small distinction, I suppose. Not one I should spend any time worrying over.

Guiding me down onto the edge of the bed, Orwell let go of my hand, allowing me to fall backwards out of exhaustion. I was recovering, that much was I was aware, but damn if I ever thought walking could be so physically intensive. Orwell assured me this was but the first step to clear on my journey to recovery. But it was a step. A step few others could even dream of taking. He made sure I knew that. Apparently, in the field medic's expert opinion, I had something of a hardy constitution. I had tried to convince Orwell that my left eye was working, but he only gave me a sympathetic look and told me, "Many experience phantom limbs when they lose theirs. I apologise, but I've checked, checked, and checked again. The ichor ate through your eye. It's been healed over, but it's as white as the morning mist." I know that much, dolt. I even checked, testing my depth perception. Everything is A-OK, and If anything, my eye feels even better than it used to. Don't judge a book by its cover, man. You should at least know that much.

It wasn't long before I had slipped into sleep, still dreaming the same dream. My doppelganger, or maybe I was astral projecting? Anyway, my other self was still sound asleep, probably dreaming of a grand adventure, whilst I was stuck here in an endless black void. He even had the gall to look supremely comfortable, sprawling his limbs as if he was laying on the worlds warmest bed, snoring loudly all the while. I don't even snore for fuck sake!

I did notice one thing. My dreams didn't seem to last long, thankfully. I would only be watching myself sleep for a few minutes before waking, Orwell telling me I had been out for hours. Small blessings. If I had to watch that arrogant bastard sleep for hours on end I would probably go insane. It didn't take long until my eyes opened once again, the roof of the cabin taking up my vision. It always surprised me when I woke up here. Each time I assumed this was all an elaborate dream, one I'd awake from in my apartment at any moment.

"Hiya Aral." Yuili executed a running jump, landing awkwardly on my bed from a considerable distance, the reverberations from the impact causing me no small amount of pain.

"Hello Yuili."

"'Hello Yuili'? What are you? An old man? It's Yu! Say 'Hiya Yu!'"

"... Hiya Yu."

"Hiya Aral." Her toothy smile was obnoxious, yes, but also contagious. I really couldn't be mopey when she was around.

"Want a fuddie?"

"You want to mess with my hair again?"

"Nope. Not this time. I want you to come outside! You've never left this stupid shack this whole time!"

"I don't think I can, Yu."

"Alright... Two fuddies then?" Damn... This girl knew how to negotiate. Another talent of hers.

"Three."

"Done."

Yu helped me to the best of her abilities, apparently Orwell had left the cabin when I was asleep, and Yu didn't know where he went off to, so I was forced to rely on a ten year old girl for support, and to my chagrin, she was strong. Stronger than me at the very least. Was that surprising or not? I was essentially a cripple after all, with next to no muscle mass. I had trouble walking laps around a room, and she was an insatiable little ball of energy. I suppose it made sense.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She ushered me to the door, and for the first time since the bandits attacked, if you could even call it that, I walked into the village. Unlike my first time, there was no falling over this time. Progress. We walked all of one house away until I physically couldn't walk any further, my legs seizing up and threatening to buckle under my own weight. I was skin and bones, and my legs still complained. Pathetic. Yu didn't seem to mind, leaving me leaning on the wall as she skipped into the house. The house which I'm pretty sure wasn't her own, and returned with a chair. I would ask where she wanted to sit, but I doubt there was a force powerful enough, even in this world, to make Yu sit still for more than a minute.

I watched her skip around, pointing to things and describing their name and what they were, as if I was slow in the head. Jonglir had almost certainly up played how mentally incapable I was to his sister. Still, I nodded along, content to listen to her point to a tree, and annunciate "tuhreee.", After which, she would point to me, and I'd say "Tree.", Earning a round of applause from Yu. I was humouring her, yes, but I didn't mind. She was a kid, and honestly, seeing her smile and laugh was the purest thing in the world. I even started pointing to things on my own, just so she could 'teach' me what they were. If the days could go on like this, I might even play up my injury just to spend time like this.

"Daddy!" Yu dropped what she was doing almost immediately, bounding over towards the village gate, welcoming the incoming hunters. Her father was the villages head hunter, no doubt the cause of Jonglir's hunting obsession. I don't blame him, fathers are our heroes, or so I've heard. Orwell was shoulder to shoulder with Yu's father, Rammel, both men speaking amicably among themselves. Rammel stood a good couple of inches above Orwell, and wore a gruff stubble, where Orwell was clean shaven. Orwell certainly looked more civilised than the large hunter, Rammel's long hair swept back into a high sitting ponytail.

Jonglir wasn't far behind his sister, obviously infatuated by his strapping father, but lacking the skin thick enough to jump him like Yuili did. Rammel grabbed Yuili mid jump and swung her around a few times, eliciting joyful screams from the girl. It wasn't until Rammel beckoned him over that Jonglir 'reluctantly' joined them, though his lack of hesitation betrayed his posturing. Jonglir closed in on his father, offering him a hand, at which the hunter looked, before erupting into laughter, the other hunters joining him, much to the embarrassment of Jonglir.

"Don't tease him! He always talks about how strong you are daddy." Yuili, forever her brothers defender. Though in this case, it seemed she exasperated the situation, as Rammel and his hunters only laughed harder at her statement, Jonglir's face becoming beet red as he stormed off towards their cabin.

"Decided to come outside huh?" It was only now I noticed Orwell had broken off from the hunters, somehow sneaking up to stand beside me.

"Fat chance. I was bribed." And boy was it worth it. What was a little physical pain for three fuddies. I'll take that trade any day.

"Regardless, it's good to see you out of the house, and getting some sun will only help." He clasped me on the shoulder, a gesture I was starting to become familiar with, as he would do it at least once a day.

"Where did you go? I thought you were the village healer. Or medic. Or whatever."

"The hunting squad was meeting up with their comrades from the village over, a small gathering they participate in once a year. Five of the local villages and tribes compete in a little hunting competition, the winner getting all of the spoils of the trip. Along with bragging rights for the next year. It's all in good fun. Promotes unity amongst the villages, at least according to hag momo." Orwell seemed genuinely happy. I'm glad.

"I heard that!" A shout came from the hut we were posted up outside of, the tone a telltale sign of Granny Momo's annoyance. Orwell flinched at the realisation, hunkering down below the window in order to not be seen. I couldn't help but crease over in laughter. He might be a psychopath that kills without hesitation, but he was damn scared of Granny Momo.

"Quick! Run!" He whispered urgently, before scooping up the chair I was sitting on, with me on it, and dashing for his cabin.

"And you better bring my chair back too!" Granny had just finished when Orwell slammed the door, making sure to glance out of the window a few times to make sure we had no pursuers.

"So... You helped the hunting squad win the competition?" I started the conversation of my own volition. I was genuinely curious. Usually my conversations were very reactive in nature, I surprised even myself when I heard my own question come out.

"Me? Hunt? No way. And Angelsrun winning the competition? Even less of a chance. I don't know the first thing about hunting. I mainly went to trade with the healers and merchants of the other villages. And also in the off chance that someone gets injured during the competition. They didn't, by the way."

"If they lost, why were they in such high spirits?"

"Winning isn't everything, Aral. They learned from their betters, and came home to their family in one piece. What's not to enjoy?" Orwell was more serious than usual with the last statement. It seems he either wanted me to understand it, or he wanted me to answer it. I don't know which.

What's not to enjoy?

What's not to enjoy about coming home to your loving family?

"I don't have a family to come home to."

Excellent work, me. Great way to kill a conversation. Ten out of ten. Just let your crippling anxiety and past trauma leak into the discussion. He'll love that. Now heres the part where he smiles weakly, offers me a pitiful glance that says 'sorry', and gives me a short yet meaningless platitude, after which he'll find an excuse to leave, pr-

"You've got me. You've got Yuili. Jonglir. Granny Momo. All of us would mourn if you didn't come back."

Wow. I wanted to disagree. I really did. But his sincerity wouldn't allow me to.

"You're just saying that." I couldn't help myself. I felt like shit as soon as it came out. That's what I had always wanted to say to those that only pretended to acknowledge my suffering, and yet I never would. And now, when someone was actually sympathising with my trauma, I snubbed him with a snide remark. Way to fucking go. I couldn't help but break eye contact, lowering my head in shame.

It took a while for Orwell to speak, and I feared he'd leave, but his reply sent shudders through my body. Loosening tears I didn't know I was saving.

"I understand ye don't think highly of yourself. A do. But a made ye a promise. I'd fix ye up. And I intend on keepin' that promise. But there's one thing a man should never do. And since no one's been there to teach ye that, I'll take it upon meself." Orwell crossed the distance between us, quicker than I could react, and grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing eye contact. "Don't ye ever fuckin' snub those that care about ye again, or al drag ye out by ye ears and force ye to apologise to Yu meself. Understood?" His accent came out in full force. It wasn't this pronounced when he was dealing with the bandits. I could only nod weakly, periodically wiping away my tears with my sleeve.

I'm glad I came here.