The next day came. Sunlight beamed through the gaps of the curtains, straight into my slumbering eyes. Arsalan and Kantax were already up early, as I could hear them bantering downstairs. I climbed up their bedside table, careful not to tip the bowl and knife. I slowly swept the curtains aside.

Verdurous and green – a handful of nearby trees dotted the nearby locale. It’s not quite as lush as I’d thought. Past the unpaved road ahead laid several prairies and golden plantations, whose grains reminded me of the early August wheat fields I’d drive by on our yearly visits to my grandpa’s workshop.

Things got even more blurred onwards. I could see the lake from here too, and a couple of hovels dotting its shores. Further out, I could see a cart being wheeled across a muddy path towards an orchard. The blurry mountains staggered the horizon, with soft streaks of mist that drift around their glacial peaks and jagged crests.

Laughter caught my attention. I moved closer to the window to peek down below. Kantax wore the same outfit as she did last night, plus a hat of woven straw. Arsalan had raised the hems of his green robe from his knees towards his waist, tied together with a sash and a quiver for his bow. Is he going hunting or something?

They walked over to the edge of our fence, hand in hand. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, after which she yanked his hair down to get a more tender one on the lips. They waved as they parted ways. Kantax marched over to the closest fields while Arsalan headed around to the other side of the house where I couldn’t track.

She approached a group of men and women in peasant outfits, all with woven hats over their heads. I’d seen a few of them arrive from outside the vicinity but a good number of them came from the lakeside hovels. As soon as they noticed her, they immediately began organizing into a few rows with about a dozen people in each. They were aligned, but left gaps perhaps to account for absentees. Sheaves of grain stalks were strewn about.

They’re so blurry from here, but I pinched my fingers to form a pinhole for a clearer view. Kantax began barking out orders or complaints so audibly that if I knew the language, I could probably make out every other word with ease. The last time I’d heard that kind of yapping was when a guy in my platoon lost both his ballistic helmet and his armored vest just before a routine inspection. Kantax did one slow lap around the group, and singled out the two who didn’t have their straw hats with them. That’s familiar.

She pulled the two to the front – a man and a woman. A moment passed. Out of nowhere, the two began articulating some sort of dramatic play? The man pretended to have a heart attack as the other started a slow dance with an invisible partner. Kantax and the rest laughed as the two returned to their spots.

Kantax gave them a couple more lines while repeatedly raising her straw hat a few feet into the air to emphasize it, before dismissing them to their assigned fields. The clear sky was almost searingly bright, but the cold winds made up for it.

She then walked over to a man roping something from a large shed. He tugged on it and out came a.. bug? A whole beetle the size of a small car, lumbered out.

The bug was almost as tall as they were. It looks pretty round and has a small horn. They both gave it a few pats on the shell before rigging a harness onto it.

They hauled up a clunky large wooden thing and latched it onto the beetle’s chained harness. The guy mounted the saddle on its harness and rode it off. Kantax had continued heading over to separate fields to assess the other workers.

I kept watching the man sitting on the insect. Honestly, its size doesn’t warrant calling it one. I can’t make out most of its details, and I doubt I even want to see it up close. Are bugs just massive here?

He dismounted and lowered a portion of the wooden machine. Truly a beast of burden, and you’d think it’s sluggish or slow but if it wasn’t harnessed it’d be able to kick harder than a mule and run pretty fast. You could tell by how quickly its massive legs repositioned.

Two hands suddenly hoisted me from behind, it was Kantax. Her brows furrowed in confusion. I didn’t even hear her come up the creaky stairs, let alone open the shoddy bedroom door.

“Tio ne estis sekura, Forlasita!” she nurturingly reprimanded me as she cradled me. No toddler should be on a window’s ledge, or near a knife. She gazed towards the bedside table and the window. “Kiel vi etch supreniris chi tien? Chiuokaze, mamnutri tempo?”

She sat down on the bed and began unbuttoning her vest. No. I’m not going to breastfeed from her. I don’t need to nurse, I can probably eat anything at this point. I’m still mentally an adult, who was recently a mother of two. Breastmilk may single-handedly be the most nutritious thing I could take in, I’d rather make do.

Kicking and yelling, I pushed her away. It took a while, but she understood and brought me downstairs where she cooked up a warm stew for us both. She spoke throughout the process, fairly upbeat in tone – I’m guessing she’s happy she doesn’t have to nurse me anymore? This body’s old enough to bite and wean. I still remember how sore it often got when I had to breastfeed my kids, but it was always endearing.

Hours passed. We had supper together at sundown, as Arsalan brought home a package of meat tied up in leaves. They had some small talk in the unfamiliar language, and we went upstairs to rest. At least I thought we were. After I got quiet in my crib, their whispers slowly turned to giggles, and later into moans.

I took occasional peeks. These two are actually kind of lovely while they’re at it – save for the fact Kantax was always on top and was much more forceful over Arsalan’s dainty posturing. Damn. The bit of light from the window highlighted their toned, muscular bodies. Kantax had scars and tanlines, while Arsalan was both pale yet flush. Anyway, today was also a lot to take in and I just wanted to sleep.

They came, and so did the sunrise. And then the next. A week passed. A month, and then two, followed by more. I took their language seriously enough to gradually piece it together with all of its rules and customs. There’s some unnatural aspects to their tongue, but maybe I’m just biased; I had to be multilingual back then, and it was never this easy. But this language has a lack of nuance and complexity, in a way I find kinda annoying. It doesn’t even have gender distinctions.

…

About half a year passed and I could more or less understand most of what they’re all saying by translating it in my head, and I’m only getting better at that. To celebrate the second birthday of “Forlasita”, the original owner of this body and whose identity I’ll keep having to assume, we had a feast. Kantax proudly brought her friends over from town. Apparently, child mortality rates are fairly high here, and having a kid reach this age isn’t that common.

“I’ve never seen a half-elf before! So cute!” said one.

“Oh, she has your hair!” exclaimed another.

“Ah, but she has her father’s charming eyes!”

“There’s so few of them around. Last time I’d seen one of his kind, I was still a little girl too.”

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…

More time passed, and me talking in short simple sentences was something they got more accustomed to. Kantax told me more children’s stories (verbally of course, since we couldn’t afford books and I doubt children’s books exist here). But I was more invested in Arsalan’s retellings of this world’s history and the distant lands he journeyed through in his long life. This mildly irritated Kantax so she talked about her time as a sword-sister for the crumbling Marbordo Empire’s foreign legions.

Arsalan’s stories were always so rich and vibrant, spiced with his flawless charisma; I had a hard time noticing which of his embellishments were total bluffs. There’s giant bugs out here, I’m listening to an elf, and I’ve died once before. Anything could happen out here. At least there’s a good number of Earthly creatures here I’d recognize – plants as well.

“Okay, princess. You see, the Nine Celestials had blessed the old elven lands. But during the rule of Champion Vaios – blessed by Vess the Goddess of Justice, demon-kin stormed and plagued The Great Forest. The defeated Kosmikos scattered after Emperor Elutan’s demise. Dwarves and their allies betrayed us by taking most of the ships and cowering to the islands of Ischyros to the west. My fellow Elves had then, mostly, gone into hiding.“

Kantax, however, mentioned to someone else at one point how she practiced vocalizing a bunch of children’s stories for when I’d be able to talk – but my boredom must’ve been so evident that she caved in and opted to talk about the gritty work she had to go through. Hell, I also remember reading out all the bedtime stories for my own kids. Viktor always avoided it, even if he clearly enjoyed it so much.

“My squad shared the same tent, and we would set up near the other squads that made up the whole brigade after a long day’s march. There was ‘usually’ enough food rationed out for us, but the northeastern winters made it impossible to forage for anything more. Don’t get me started on the mud, which swallowed carriages, supplies, and people whole. At one point we tried to hunt down a Pantera for its meat. We spread too thin, and I ended up having to fight the massive cat myself.”

She gestured to some old arm scars. “Of course, I won.”

…

Many more quick years flew by, and I’d spent a lot of time taking in their stories. I say quick because “years” here are only around 232 days instead of 365. I’ll call them cycles, and I’m 9 cycles old. They taught me to read, as we managed to buy an in-depth tome on farming. I’ve read it over and over. Though I only had surface-level understanding on agriculture in my previous life, the way this book refers to practices like crop rotation, irrigation, and the various plants cultivated across the realm is pretty neat.

Kantax was more than happy to read the farming book to me, and sometimes it felt like I was teaching her back. She always took my questions seriously and with a scar-ridden smile.

“You’re such a fast learner, my dear. I couldn’t read properly until half a decade ago. I’m still learning, so let’s continue.”

I grew up poor in my last life. Upward mobility was rare under our communist party. My family only had one book; a warped chemistry textbook my father picked up off the street. My mother back then also taught me how to read at an early age, and I learned to love chemistry at the same time. But, I later pursued Political Science in hopes of getting a government job to find us a way out of poverty.

My general science class teacher asked if I wanted to take up chemistry since I had good grades in his classes, and the best essays. I told him how most people said it was difficult. My old professor patted my head and changed my life with a few words after that.

“Sure, it’s difficult for everyone else – but it won’t be for you, because you’re already a chemist. In both heart, and mind.”

I shifted, pursuing my passion. I met a lot of wonderful people after that, like my friends, and even my husband. Viktor worked as a well-off patent officer inspecting the plant I first worked at, and we hit it off well enough to have and raise two kids for over a decade.

Kantax and Arsalan took me to the nearby town of Trezoro a couple of times now, where the aroma of fresh bread lingered; a testament to the town's well-fed citizens of colorful garb. Streets bustled as skilled artisans plied their trade, and children played around the square. Some of the farmers’ kids would play here, too.

Sometimes I would watch the checkpoints where even from afar, the hopeful faces of newcomers spoke of the town's reputation as a haven for those seeking their fortune. We sold our harvests at the markets here to pay out the workers’ wages.

…

It wasn’t long until I began taking lessons. Kantax gave me the basics on defending myself, and knowing when to run. Her reputation as one whose skills were second to none seemed real from the practical ways she’d stage my learning. She also got me a lovely pink hooded dress, several sizes larger.

Arsalan tried over and over to teach me healing magic and plant manipulation spells, but no matter how hard I tried I just had no aptitude for it. This was extremely disappointing. He told me stories of how sorcery operated through divination and blessings back in the Kosmikos – but after “Finjugio” which was a huge catastrophe, magic could now only be done through the value and sacrifice of willpower, emotions, and even memories.

This sucks ass, getting sent to another world yet having no magical powers. Ugh, I’ll mend and make do like I always have.

Instead he tried to teach me archery which was all about consistency, but I couldn’t see the blurry target due to my apparent nearsightedness. A trait Kantax handed over to me, unfortunately. Myopia isn’t anyone’s fault, probably.

I begged Arsalan to let me do whatever with the youth bow. He begrudgingly agreed, since he’d have no other use for it. Still, his stories and hunting lessons were always insightful. I’d like to go on hunting trips with him soon – I might have a solution in mind.

I’d spent a couple of hours every week near the lake trying to find the multitool but I just couldn’t find it. I’ve been careful to not accidentally bury it but there’s no way I could’ve dropped it anywhere else. I have no magnets and definitely no metal detectors. After a few months of trying and getting caught covered in mud a handful of times, I’ve decided to stop.

All I have left are the two bracelets I’d braided for my son and daughter. I’ve kept them somewhere obscure, but Kantax is pretty thorough with cleaning so I’ve chosen a dry corner outside the house to bury the bracelets in a small wooden box.

I shook my head to avoid thinking about the day I had to watch all three caskets lowered together.

I dug it up today to check its condition. The box had rotted over a few cycles, but it’s still serviceable. I took the two upstairs and dismantled Anton’s bracelet and unhooked Anya’s so I could put his beads there instead. I placed their combined bracelet into a pouch. After inserting the pouch into the box and burying it again, all I had left was a black thread and a chrome paperclip.

The nylon thread was in perfect condition after unbraiding. But the most important part was the fact that I remember cutting this to a rough length of 30 centimeters unstretched, confirmed in comparison to the 33 millimeter paperclip I used as lock hooks. I tied it to my wrist as an inconspicuous keepsake.

Wanting to mess with the bow Arsalan gave me, I went to the shed where they kept farm equipment and the huge beetle. They named it Bestatzo, after the patron god of war and craftsmen. Of the nine deities, Bestatzo was the one Kantax liked the most. Apparently she’d gotten it as a pupa during one of her campaigns on the continental mainland where The Great Forest once stood; the miasma-ridden realms of demon-kin. Some call it the “plaguelands” as if plagues don't happen everywhere anyway.

Hell, last week I overheard one of the guests sobbing downstairs when I was reading by the bedside window. It was one of Kantax’s friends, and she’d just lost her first firstborn to an epidemic that ravaged the southern fishing towns. It’s numbing to me.

Regardless, I've decided to do a bit of woodwork at the stable where they’ve kept Bestatzo. There’s no shortage of dried lumber, so I got a plank around the size of an arm and carved out a slot for the youth bow to slide into. I smoothened the top and cut in a groove.

Another hobby my husband had was crafting projects out of plywood. He’d even recreated stuff he’d seen online. After Viktor let me and the kids plink a few cans with him in the woods using a slingshot, I understood his love for crafting; I made both bracelets the next day but Anya and Anton didn’t really like them. Of course.

After carving out a makeshift 30cm ruler into the flat underside of the crossbow, I finished polishing the stock and assembled the bow to the front with some cordage to fasten it in place. The thumb-trigger resembles a tiny seesaw which would push the cocked bowstring out of its seat when fired. There’s also a leaf spring to keep the arrow in place when ready to fire – and behind the leaf spring was an aperture peep sight that was simply a tiny hole which made seeing with my myopic eyes easier.

It’s nowhere near the lever-action magazine-fed rapid fire crossbows Viktor prototyped in his garage with professional tools and aluminum fittings, but I bet he’d be proud of me regardless.

Arsalan, however, wasn’t pleased with the development. Kantax loved it though, specifically the aperture sight – my son Anton needed glasses at an early age, but before that he actually had a habit of pinching a small hole with his fingers to look through. This focused a smaller amount of light which helped sharpen his sight.

Kantax enjoyed it so much that on the next day she prepared some straw targets for us to shoot. Arsalan warmed up to the idea after listening to Kantax explain how she could actually see clearly through the pinhole in a conversation during supper. His healing wasn’t able to fix her myopia, so I hope I can get her a pair of glasses someday.

This led Arsalan to happily supervise us the next day, but the truth seemed like he just wanted to grope and ‘hold her steady’ with the crossbow in public. I’ve heard them vividly describe exhibitionism in bedside whispers before. Great. I barely got to train with the crossbow after that. He called her “Anne” more often too, omitting several parts of her name; a cultural form of endearment here.

I logged countless hours in that shed working on stuff and occasionally fixing the farm equipment that often broke, to the point where Bestatzo the beetle is technically who I talk to the most now. I barely played with the other kids, but I did my best to stay active.

Arsalan and Kantax later got me a specially crafted mini-machete with a saw on the rear edge for wood, alongside an informative guidebook on carpentry and general woodwork. Knives are the typical utensil, and are customary gifts here. Hell yeah.

This knife’s pretty neat – I could take on the world with it. There’s so much I feel I can do here, and bit by bit I think I’m falling in love with the world of Mondo. Despite the plagues, and so on.