Max walked through the meadow, tall, soft grass swishing against his knees. The walk was easy, and he moved comfortably over the landscape in huge strides. After an hour or more of comfortable walking, he glanced back to see how far he had come and realized he’d been walking down a gentle slope for some time. The town in the distance had vanished behind a hill before him as he headed down into a narrow, wooded valley. The forest wasn’t very broad, just a thin strip of trees from what the thief could see, and there was likely a little stream running through that forest following the twisting valley in the middle of the meadowland.
He shrugged. The thief liked the forest and knew he’d soon be climbing the slope on the other side, then up to the edge of the town. He marched on, confident he was still heading directly toward the little town.
Max noted that the sun was dipping toward the horizon now. It had been a long day, but he figured there was enough time to get to the town before sunset.
The sun seemed particularly large as it approached the horizon, larger than Max had ever remembered seeing it. He wondered if the clear air of the countryside made the sun appear different than it did through the dirty city air he knew so well.
The slope of the meadow became steeper, and the thief found himself skidding down a grassy slope. He used the staff to steady himself and moved sideways, zigzagging down the steep slope, using the trunks of trees on the sides to climb down. He grabbed one and then another, slowing his descent, steadying his gait, until he finally reached the bottom of the valley.
Birds twittered in the dappled sunlight, and somewhere a brook was babbling—just as he had predicted. He walked straight ahead, remembering where the town lay in the distance.
Max had always had a good sense of direction. It was part of what made him a good thief. He always knew where he was heading, where he’d come from, and he was able to navigate with confidence and ease. So, he marched on through the forest with supreme confidence, the thick carpet of leaves crunching and rustling beneath his feet.
Through the trees, he noticed a flash of light up ahead. His chosen path was taking him straight toward it, and he was growing more curious as he went. As he approached, Max saw something odd lying at the base of a broad tree trunk.
Forest floor plants had grown up in a tangled clump near the base of this trunk, and within the tangle of roots and branches, something glinted in the rays of sun that penetrated the forest canopy. Max stuck his staff into the twisted tangle of forest plants, and he heard the wood strike something metal.
Intrigued, the thief pushed the twisted knot of vegetation aside with the tip of his staff, pulling some this way and others that way until he cleared a small patch. He looked down into the clump of twisted leaves and branches, excited to see what he had found.
What he saw looked as if it were the breastplate of a suit of armor. No doubt it had once been highly polished, but now it was tarnished and dull. He poked at it again sharply with his staff, and it returned a dull, metallic sound. Max cleared more of the branches away and saw a sword lying there too. A rusty, tarnished sword with a black handle.
He got down on his knees, and grabbing hold of the handle of the sword, he pulled it out from the tangle of undergrowth. The weapon looked ancient, the bindings on the hilt crumbling in his hands. The blade was covered in rust. Max pulled it free of the vegetation and saw it was as broad as his arm and almost as long as he was tall. It was extremely difficult to maneuver, so he tossed it to the side and returned his attention to the armor.
Max dropped back to his knees next to the tangle and grabbed the piece of armor with both hands. He tugged on it hard, but it was stuck in the leaves and vines. He pulled on it with all his might, and the breastplate suddenly ripped free, sending him tumbling backward. The armor landed on top of him—complete with the body of the previous owner. Max lay on his back, stunned, looking up into the empty eye sockets and grinning mouth of a skeleton.
The thief flung the breastplate and the skeleton aside and scurried away. He’d never come face-to-face with a skeleton before, and it took him a minute to get over the fright. Once he’d calmed down, he returned and could see he had not only found a breastplate but an entire suit of armor—not to mention the complete skeleton of the previous wearer.
Max stood and looked down at the skeleton in its armor next to its ancient sword. He glanced around the forest, wondering how this ancient Warrior could have lain here for so long without being discovered? Did no one ever come this way?
He studied the skeleton and spotted a small pouch on the hip of the ancient fallen Warrior. Max pulled the leather pouch free and tossed it up and down, relishing the metallic jangling within. He pulled open the drawstring and looked inside the brown leather pouch.
Gold!
Golden coins filled the pouch, and he emptied the contents into his hand. Ten coins spilled into his palm. Max looked around nervously, sure someone would come to claim this gold, but the forest remained empty save for himself. He regarded the Skeleton Warrior and figured it had no further need of coins. Max quickly put the ten gold coins back into the pouch and deposited it into his own burlap sack alongside the letter for the farmer’s daughter.
In the weave of the burlap sack, he saw stats forming out of the strands of coarse brown material. It was his inventory, and it had been updated.
>
>
> Inventory:
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> • Light shirt
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> • Light pants
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> • Soft boots
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> • Letter for farmer’s daughter
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> • Burlap sack
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> • Staff
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> • 10 gold
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>
He focused on the woven strands of coarse brown fibers that made up the burlap sack and willed his personal stats to appear. A moment later, the window shifted from his inventory to his personal stats. Max grinned because he was finally figuring out how to use his new skills, whatever the source of them happened to be.
>
>
> Name: Max Freeman
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> Level: 0
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> Health: Full
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> Strength: 9
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> Stamina: 16
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> Agility: 18
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> Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
>
> Intelligence: 17
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> Wisdom: 12
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> Charisma: 16
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>
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> Abilities:
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> • Climb
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> • Pick Pocket
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> • Sneak
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>
He was happy that his health was full again, and now that he was getting used to the idea of his physical attributes having numerical scores, Max had to admit he liked what he saw. His Intelligence was really high, as were his Stamina and Agility. He had always considered himself fairly smart, though maybe not book smart like some. It wasn’t that he had just simple street smarts either. He’d always thought he could make anything of himself if he really tried.
Wisdom was another story. The thief had to admit—to himself at least—that he wasn’t surprised that his Wisdom was low. He had a track record of making poor choices, which was how he’d ended up working for his old boss and tied up in the criminal underworld.
On a more positive note, with his high Stamina and Agility, he was able to climb with ease and had good balance. That was probably why he picked up using the staff so quickly and was able to wield it so expertly after only a few tries when the Death Crows had attacked.
Overall, Max was pretty pleased with his Attributes.
He closed the burlap sack, effectively dispelling the stats window, and tied it back onto the end of his staff. He searched the remains of the fallen warrior for more loot but found nothing else of interest. The armor was far too big and heavy for him to wear, as was the sword, so he left them on the ground. The clothes weren’t worth taking either.
So, happy with the ten gold coins, Max decided to continue on his journey and looked around to get his bearings. He saw the path he’d been following through the forest and put his back to it, directing his view deeper into the forest ahead. He spotted the slope on the other side of the narrow forest that would take him back out of the valley and set off walking. He heard the gold coins jangling inside the burlap sack and knew he’d have to exchange those as soon as he got back to the city. He would go to the nearest pawnshop and swap them for a fat stack of cash.
He hadn’t traveled very far when Max thought he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He searched and strained his eyes but could see nothing but the dappled sunlight streaming down through the deep green of the forest canopy. He shrugged—maybe it was a bird or something—and continued walking.
He wasn’t sure what made him stop dead in his tracks, but he had long ago learned to listen to his instincts. Max slowed his breathing so he could better hear. He could feel the sweat on his brow and the hairs tingling on the nape of his neck.
Somewhere in the forest, there was movement. He could hear something creeping through the undergrowth. Light footsteps on the leaf-strewn forest floor.
The thief quietly looked around but saw nothing, and everything seemed to go back to normal. He set off walking again, moving a bit faster but also staying observant. He reached the stream that ran through the center of the wooded valley without incident and crossed over in a few bounding steps. The water was so shallow, he hardly got his feet wet, and the soft leather shoes the farmer had given him kept his feet warm and dry.
When he stopped on the other side of the stream, he heard the noise again. Louder this time. All at once, something came crashing through the trees, and he got a glimpse of a large dark shape moving in the shadows. Max peered into the shadows, trying to get a better view of the dark shape, and then the shadow stepped forward into a shaft of sunlight that pierced the leaves and branches.
A window appeared above the dark shape, formed in the shards of light and shadow.
>
>
> Name: Wolf
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> Status: Hostile
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> Attack: Crushing bite
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> Threat level: Dangerous
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>
The wolf snarled and took a step forward, its huge paw touching down softly in front of it. Max was as captivated as he was terrified by the dark eyes in the black fur. The teeth bared in the beast’s huge mouth looked large enough to bite off his head and were stained yellow. The wolf snarled and took another step forward.
Max held his staff in front of himself as he had done with the Death Crows, ready to fight. He knew that this wolf was a much more dangerous enemy than even six Death Crows, and standing to fight it with little more than a walking stick for a weapon was utter madness. Unfortunately, running didn’t seem like a good idea either, as his mind suddenly filled with images of large predators chasing down their feeble prey. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t fight, so the thief did the one thing he was good at. Max bolted toward the nearest tree.
As soon as Max moved, so did the wolf. It bounded forward in huge leaps, its front paws pounding into the ground as the back paws came forward and propelled it toward its prey. The wolf’s dark eyes were fixed on Max, its long yellow teeth ready to rend and tear.
Max dropped his staff, abandoning it and all of his belongings in the sack as he reached up and gripped the bark of the tree. He pulled himself up, his fingertips gripping the ridges in the rough, thick bark. The thief pushed up with his toes, the soft shoes from the farmer perfect for the task since his toes could feel every ridge of bark through the soft leather. He quickly moved up the thick trunk, and after a few seconds, he reached a branch. He grabbed it with both hands, swinging his legs up and around the branch just as the wolf leapt at him. Max hung upside down from the branch, and he heard the wolf’s jaws snap shut just underneath him. He saw the wolf land and skid through the leaves littering the forest floor then turn and prepare to leap at him again.
Max quickly pulled himself up onto the top of the branch and stood up, balancing while steadying himself with a hand on the bark of the main trunk. He took a calming breath, which wasn’t easy to do with the slavering wolf looking up at him with deadly black eyes. He had faced certain death from a fall many times, knowing the cold hard asphalt would end his days in an instant should he plummet down the side of a building. The idea of falling down and being torn apart by the wolf was significantly more terrifying since he knew it would be a much slower and more painful death as the beast’s teeth tore him apart.
“Focus, Max!” he admonished himself and took a deep breath and looked to the tree trunk as the wolf leapt at him again.
He decided to climb to a higher branch.
The wolf leapt again, snapping up at him, twisting in the air before landing gracefully, a snarl on its maw and a twinkle of murder in its black eyes. With a growl, it gave up leaping, knowing now that Max was out of reach of its snapping jaws. Then the wolf reached its front paws up the trunk, scratching at the bark.
It’s trying to climb the tree!
For a panicked moment, Max wondered if wolves could climb trees, but it quickly became apparent that all it could do was scratch off some bark.
The wolf’s black eyes looked up at Max, its red tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, hanging between sharp yellow teeth.
Max felt his breathing ease knowing he was out of reach of the wolf, and he looked down as the creature paced back and forth at the base of the tree, occasionally staring up at him. The wolf stopped at one point and sniffed at his staff and burlap sack before resuming its frustrated pacing, watching Max with cold menace.
The thief sat on a thick branch and leaned back against the trunk, safe for the moment. Higher up, he saw that the branches of the tree mingled with the branches of others around it. Max knew which direction he was heading and wondered if it was possible for him to find a way through the canopy, going from branch to branch, tree to tree, all the way out of the forest.
He looked down at the staff with the bag of his belongings. And his gold. Maybe if the wolf fell asleep or lost focus and wandered off a few feet, he could jump down and quickly grab his staff and bag. Max knew that was a hopeless thought as soon as he thought it, though, and knew the wolf would be on him in a fraction of a second. It would tear his throat out the moment he came down from the tree.
As he thought about it, Max knew that the idea of making his way through the branches wasn’t going to work, either. With all the attention the wolf was paying to him, it would simply follow, knowing that sooner or later, he would have to come down. All he could do for now was rest, catch his breath, and try to figure out a workable plan.
“Use your Intelligence and try not to do anything stupid,” Max muttered to himself as he looked down at the wolf, who let out a lazy yawn.
The thief was picking out a route through the treetops when he saw a shimmering white cloud in a shaft of sunlight. He saw that the swirling mist was framed by a deep black shadow. The mist swirled, fine strands of white twisting and turning, flickering one way and another, almost taking shape only to be lost again. But the shadow had no structure, just a deep black that was almost solid, almost like a tear in reality.
As Max watched, the white cloud within the dark outline danced like marsh mist caught in a breeze, but the cloud wasn’t dispersed by the breeze, and the more it swirled, the more it seemed to take on the shape of a person. The cloud shape slowly drifted toward him, and the thief felt his full attention drawn to the strange little cloud, hypnotized by it.
He wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe he was just wishing for someone to come and help him, and his stressed-out mind was creating a hallucination so he could feel better about this hopeless situation. The shape came closer and closer, looking more and more like a person until finally, the cloud swirled rapidly then wisped away, leaving the forest empty again.
His heart fell, and Max knew he was truly alone. And he was trapped.