Elijah finally climbed free of the bog with a deep sense of relief that was so prevalent that it made him want to simply flop onto his back and rest. Yet, just because he’d found the edge of the mire, that didn’t mean he had fully left the swamp behind. The ground was still moist, and the same wildlife still pervaded the environment. So, he knew he still had miles to go before he could realistically put the swamp behind him.

So, he continued to trudge along, one facet of his mind focused on his surroundings while the rest were dedicated to his wandering thoughts. He’d left Konstantinos’ homestead behind three days before, but he still couldn’t escape idle speculation as to their condition. The children, especially, worried him. Even so, there was nothing he could do for now, so he struggled to push them out of mind.

Instead, he tried to focus on what was ahead. Chiefly, he thought about Seattle and what he hoped would be a reunion with his sister and the rest of her family. Alyssa had visited about a year before he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, but even before the world had been transformed, it had been years since he’d seen Carmen or Miguel in person.

Had they changed as much as he had?

What archetypes and classes had they taken? He knew Alyssa well enough to expect her to have chosen something action-oriented. She was a fighter, and her archetype choice would have reflected that. As for Carmen, that was a bit more difficult to predict. From her physique, most would have anticipated a Warrior archetype for the stocky Latina. Yet, Elijah expected that she would have chosen something with more utility than that.

As far as Miguel – he wasn’t even old enough to have been offered an archetype. From the guides Elijah had read, that usually didn’t happen until a year or so after puberty, and for humans, that meant somewhere between fourteen and sixteen. For Bryce, she’d gotten her Sorcerer archetype a few days after she’d turned fourteen.

Given that around four years had passed since Earth had been touched by the World Tree, Miguel would be twelve or thirteen. So, there was every chance that he was on the verge of receiving his archetype.

Maybe he could be a Druid, too. It would be nice to pass his knowledge onto the younger generation.

But then again, Elijah had been told that Druids were fairly rare. On top of that, they were generally considered a weak archetype, at least until they got a few levels under them. Versatility usually came with a distinct cost, bringing to mind the old saying about being a jack of all trades, but a master of none. Of course, there was more to that quote.

“A jack of all trades is a master of none,” Elijah said aloud. “But is oftentimes better than a master of one.”

So, perhaps the real quote was even more applicable than the shortened and often mistaken version would suggest.

In any case, he wasn’t so sure that he had a lot of knowledge to pass on to any potential students like Miguel. More often than not, he flew by the seat of his pants, and while that had so far been successful, it wasn’t very helpful in a teaching endeavor. Elijah knew, because he’d worked various stints as a teacher’s assistant during graduate school. And to put it mildly, he was not good at it.

Perhaps that had something to do with his general apathy towards his former field of study.

Regardless, as he left the swamp behind, Elijah amused himself by imagining how he might impart his druidic knowledge to another generation. Like that, time passed and the landscape changed. Swamp gave way to lowlands, and those lowlands became a coastal plain – which was odd, considering that, as far as he could tell, there was no ocean nearby.

Just more evidence of how the world had been transformed.

None of the terrain made any sense, and the signs of former habitation were scattered. It wasn’t uncommon to find bits of a suburban neighborhood right next to untapped wilderness, and Elijah even stumbled across the aftermath of a broken dam that had ended with an entire town flooded.

He didn’t have the fortitude to investigate further. But judging by the fact that only the tallest buildings were visible above the new lake, Elijah expected that the death toll had been quite significant. He had no interest in seeing that, so he quickly left the site of that tragedy behind.

There were also plenty of old businesses, strip malls, and big box stores. Elijah did take the time to investigate those, though he found nothing of worth aside from a few extra containers. Even if he’d found something interesting, he wouldn’t have had the space to take it with him. His pack was bigger on the inside than it appeared to be from without, but Elijah estimated its carrying capacity was only around three times that of a normal pack of its size. So, space was quite limited.

The end result was that he passed up quite a few things he thought would be useful. Like when he found an intact electronics store stocked with all sorts of entertainment options. Sure, he didn’t have access to electricity – the transformation of the world had ruined the power grid – but he expected that solar panels might work. Not that he had any of those available, and even if he did, he wouldn’t really have the expertise necessary to get what he wanted out of them.

Still, that small issue aside, and as eager as he was to introduce some of the people of Ironshore to the glories of the cinematic experience, he simply didn’t have the means to tote a seventy-inch television around. But he did snag a small but nice collection of classic DVDs and a laptop computer, just in case he found what he needed to make them work.

It was an odd feeling, walking through the ruins of a civilization he’d once taken for granted. On the one hand, he was reminded of the sheer degree of consumerism that had infected Earth, but on the other, he also couldn’t forget all the convenience he’d once enjoyed. Never was that clearer than when he’d pass a half-destroyed fast-food restaurant or an abandoned Starbucks, which inevitably prompted distinct cravings for a Big Mac or a cappuccino.

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But those cravings went unaddressed.

Sure, he had his tea. And his berries. He’d also developed at least some level of ability as a campfire cook. But there was just no substitute for the sugary drinks or greasy foods to which most of America had been addicted.

Eventually, though, Elijah crested a low hill, and he saw a huge, white house surrounded by manicured grounds characterized by lines of ancient oak trees. Nearby, Elijah saw a small town of low buildings, and on the far side of the settlement, there were acres of corn stalks.

For a long time, he just watched. There were probably two-hundred people dwelling in the town and around thirty or so that lived in what looked like a plantation house. The two populations intermixed, though, and to Elijah, they looked fairly happy and prosperous. So, after making sure he wasn’t about to walk into a dangerous environment, he descended the hill and approached the walled town.

There, he saw a couple of men standing guard. Both carried compound bows made of some sort of composite and were dressed in blue jeans and tee-shirts declaring their outdated loyalty to one sports team or another.

“Where’d you come from?” asked one of the guards. He was middling height, with a slight paunch and a bald head beneath a red cap. The other man was dressed similarly, though with a black cowboy hat. He was also a few inches taller and a lot more muscular, though Elijah thought there was enough resemblance between the pair that they could have been brothers.

Or at least cousins.

Whatever the case, he answered, “Most recently, a swamp that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. But before that, a town called Argos.”

“You American?” ask the muscle-bound guard.

“Of course he’s American, idiot,” said the shorter man as he dismissively slapped his comrade in the arm. “You heard him, right?”

“The system translates stuff.”

“Accents, Bruce,” said the shorter man, shaking his head. “The translation doesn’t do anything for accents. Use your brain, for God’s sake.” Then, he turned his attention back to Elijah and said, “You sound like a Yankee. Where are you from? Originally, I mean. Before everything got all jumbled up.”

“Hawaii.”

“Oh. Did that end up around here?”

Elijah shook his head. “I was on a plane that went down when everything happened,” he admitted.

“Oof. Must’ve been rough.”

Elijah shrugged, saying, “It wasn’t a picnic, I can tell you that. But I survived.”

“Yep. That’s all any of us can do. So, what brings you to our little town?”

“Looking for my sister. She lived near Seattle. I heard it was in this direction, so that’s where I’m headed.”

“Yep. It’s about three- or four-hundred miles that-a-way,” the short man said, pointing to the southwest. “Don’t recommend you go there, though. Last I heard, things were bad around there. Class war. Poor folks fightin’ the rich. Bad stuff. Glad we never had issues with that here in Valosta.”

“That’s the name of the town?”

“Plantation, really,” the guard answered, shifting uncomfortably. Elijah could understand that. The label definitely came with some undesirable connotations, especially given the guard’s dark skin. “Or it used to be, I guess. Now it’s just a big house with good farmland all around. Only reason any of us survived. But enough about that. You looking to stay the night? Or were you wanting to keep going?”

“I could use a meal and a nice bed,” Elijah admitted.

“Well, then you’re in luck. You want the Draymond house. Used to be a bed and breakfast. Now it’s a tavern. But they still rent rooms when we have travelers come through here.”

“That sounds great,” Elijah said. And he meant it, too. He didn’t mind sleeping outside, but he definitely preferred a bed when he could get one.

After that, Elijah paid the one copper entry fee, then headed into town. As he walked down the main street, he was reminded of the area where he’d found the bear and the mushroom natural treasure. There was just something unmistakable about small town America that made it instantly and recognizably comfortable.

Valosta was small – only about twenty total buildings – but it hosted a few businesses. Elijah recognized a tailor, a cobbler, and even a couple of bars. In addition, there was a small diner that was calling his name. So, he stepped into a place called Mel’s, where he quickly planted himself at a long bar. As he unshouldered his pack, a man stepped out of a storage room and said, “Ah. Don’t recognize you.”

“Yeah. Just passing through. I had a craving for something greasy,” Elijah said with a grin. “You help me out with that?”

The man returned Elijah’s grin with a smile of his own. “I believe I can. We’ve had good hunting lately. You like venison?”

“I do.”

“Venison patty melt comin’ right up, then,” said the man.

After that, he went to work. As he did, he introduced himself as Mel – which Elijah probably should have guessed. Soon enough, the smell of cooking meat and the sound of sizzling grease filled the air, and Elijah asked, “You cooking with gas? Or is that griddle electric?”

“Electric. There’s a bunch of wind turbines about two miles from here. Good bit of the grid survived, too. So, the town has power,” Mel answered, flipping a ground venison patty. “Made survival a lot easier. Every now and again, we have to do maintenance, but we’ve got a few folks around here who know a thing or two about it. So, it’s all still in good workin’ order.”

“Lucky.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” said Mel with a nod. “We’ve gotten our fair share of travelers. Seattle’s not that far away. And there’s some Turkish city off to the west. A Korean city to the north, too. None of ‘em are in good shape, but there’s a fair amount of trade between ‘em. So, we get people from time to time.”

“Interesting. Have you done any traveling yourself?”

“Me? God, no. Not that brave. Our hunters range pretty far, though.”

After that, Mel started talking about his son, who happened to be one of the town’s dedicated hunters. Elijah could recognize fatherly pride when he heard it, which warmed his heart. Apparently, Valosta was one of the towns where people had banded together, which was always nice to find.

Soon enough, Mel served Eljiah the best patty melt he’d ever eaten. Sure, the bread was cornbread – which gave it a bit of a crumbly consistency – but it didn’t hurt the taste. In fact, given the construction of the sandwich, it probably wasn’t even a patty melt at all. But as Elijah ate it, he cared less about what it was called and more about the greasy, crumbly goodness he was stuffing into his mouth.

After eating, Elijah paid Mel, then headed to the bed and breakfast the guard had mentioned. Once there, he met a thick-bodied and kindly woman who set him up with a room. Elijah was happy to find that it had an attached bathroom, so he wasted no time before stripping down and showering. He’d bathed a few times in various streams and ponds along the way, but there was nothing quite like taking a long, hot shower.

He also took the time to use a good portion of his cleaning powder on his clothes, gear, and, most importantly, his Cloak of the Iron Bear.

Once that was done, he collapsed onto the bed and promptly fell asleep.