The group traveled west, the sky a shadowed blotch of darkening clouds that hid the stars. A low wind rustled the trees, bearing with it a touch of winter that made Darian doubly appreciative of his cold resistance. Fria was up ahead, Zan stalking the shadows not far away. Darian took up the rear, watching as Gustan fumbled over root and branch, his heavy footfalls drumming in the dark. Gorm wasn’t much better, his large frame getting caught on snagging twigs, his heavy axe in some constant tangle with nature. But through it all, Harper never made a sound. Darian watched her tiptoe through the forest like an expert huntsman. But even if it was muffled, Darian could still hear Zan and Harper as they maneuvered through the forest. With Harper, it was like a void of silence surrounded her, one that only permitted the occasional breath to be heard.

If she’s using a skill for that, it’s of the passive kind. While Gorm and Gustan seemed solid, Darian still didn’t trust the elf. The way she walked and watched, sizing anyone and everything up—it set Darian on edge. He doubted she’d stab him in the back, but he wouldn’t count on her in a fight. Come to think of it, she’s not carrying any weapons. Gustan had his alchemical attacks and Gorm had his axe, but Harper trounced through the darkness unarmed. A mage? But the deftness of her movements pointed to a roguish type. Well, whatever she is, it won’t matter. Darian had decided after the negotiations that if Harper proved to be a threat, he would eliminate her.

The thought of killing her if she betrayed him sent a small shiver through him, but he snuffed it out. It was like Fria said. This wasn’t his world anymore, and that meant he had to harden his heart. Still, I don’t like the idea of killing anyone. While still deep in thought, Darian noticed Fria break into a clearing ahead. Then a familiar sight greeted him.

“This is it,” Fria said, eyes scanning the cave and surrounding trees. “Zan, sniff around and make sure there’s nothing waiting for us.”

The wolf set to the task at once, his dark furred bulk vanishing into the bushes.

“Lovely place,” Harper said, adjusting her three-sided hat. “Now, if you will excuse me.” She stepped past the group and strutted for a clutch of thick pines that stood some distance away. “Nature calls.”

“Don’t let anything bite you,” Fria said, her voice low.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harper replied without turning.

“How likely are we to be attacked?” Gorm asked, axe resting across his muscled shoulders. “Looks wide open to me.”

“We should be safe from the undead here,” Darian said. “This territory belongs to the Wargs.”

“Doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” Gorm said, nudging a heavy breathing Gustan forward.

“Their leader, Gershank, isn’t a fan of the necromancer. He and his pack will leave us alone.” Provided nothing’s changed since we attacked the fort. “But we should still always have someone on guard.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Fria said. “I’ll make sure there aren’t any surprises.” She looked in the direction Harper had gone, her eyes narrowed.

Zan returned, letting the group know the area was clear. Harper arrived not long after, rejoining the group as they inspected the cave.

“Nice rug,” Gorm said, nudging the bearskin with his boot. “How’d you get the bastard in here, though?” He looked over his shoulder and into the thicket.

“It was hard,” Darian lied. “Had to haul it all the way here from a cabin up north.” Lying felt a little easier than it had before. But he couldn’t let them know about his inventory or the system. Who knows what someone like Harper would do with such information.

“Well, I for one am rather glad you did so.” Harper placed her good hand on her hip. “It gives the cave a rather unique personality.”

Fria walked outside, Zan following her. Darian left the three others to join her, finding her standing by the pond as Zan drank.

“Are you alright?” Darian asked.

“Would you prefer a lie or the truth?” She smiled with some effort.

“With you? The truth.”

“Things have been moving so quickly since my father died. There haven’t been many moments to just…breathe.” She laid her bow on the ground and sat atop the round boulder by the pond’s edge, the breeze tugging at her fiery hair. “I’m tired is all. And finding out we were just a distraction for The Society hasn’t helped.”

“I understand,” Darian said, sitting on the soft grass beside her. “I haven’t been in this world long and yet so much has already happened. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.” He looked down at his hands, the tips of his fingers still stained red.

“You’re handling it rather well, all things considered.”

“I honestly feel the same way about you.” Darian gave her a nudge on the leg. “You had just lost your father and nearly your life, but you still stuck up for me when Jorg attacked. You’ve held yourself together better than most would.”

“Maybe,” she said with a sniffle. “But I just…I miss him.” She wiped her eye with the back of her sleeve. “And I keep thinking about what I’m going to tell Mother.”

Darian leaned against the bolder, not sure what to say. Zan joined them, the wolf licking at Fria’s hand, his ears drooping down.

“I know it’s not the same,” Darian eventually said. “But I miss my father, too. And my mother. The last time I saw them was before they admitted me to the hospital for the last time. And even though I haven’t been here long, it’s like those memories belong to a different person. I keep wondering what they would think of me now. I know I’ve only done what I had to do, and I know this world needs me to be tougher. But I can’t help but feel like some part of them would be disappointed in me.”

Fria laughed. “I don’t know your parents, but judging by their son, I doubt they would be disappointed in you.”

Darian smiled flatly. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Fria said, patting Zan on the head, the wolf’s tail slowly starting to wag. “My father was the same way. No matter how hard he tried, he always felt like he was letting someone down. But like him, I don’t think there’s anyone you need to worry about on that front.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I’m just a worrier,” Darian admitted. “Get it from my dad, I think.” He relaxed, letting the back of his head rest against the stone. “And I’m sure your father would be proud of you. I know you think there’s more you could be doing to help, but you’re honestly doing just fine. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, and maybe worse.”

“Worse than dead?” She leaned over and looked down at him. “How so?”

“You’ve done a good job of reminding me I’m only a monster if I let myself become one. I felt…lost after I killed those men. Numb. But the longer I’m around you, well I can’t help but feel better. So thanks for that.” He grinned. “And I want you to know there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

Her cheeks flushed red, and she sat back. “Well,” she said, gathering her bow. “I think that’s enough talk of parents for now.”

Darian rose to his feet, feeling like he’d said something to offend her. He was about to apologize when she turned and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

“Thanks for the chat. And I’d love to talk more about our parents later, maybe after my watch is over?” She smiled.

“I would like that,” Darian said. “You know where to find me.”

She gave a mock bow and then set to patrolling with Zan beside her, the wolf’s tail wagging frantically.

Darian stood there watching her go for a moment, then he stripped off his armor and shirt. Kneeling by the pool, he washed the dried blood from his body and his armor the best he could. Who knew bloodstains were so hard to wash off? A heavy set of steps came from behind and Darian turned to find Gorm approaching with an empty waterskin.

“You said this place is close to the swamp?” Gorm asked, squatting by Darian.

“It is. Only a few hours to the south.”

Gorm grunted. “You better appreciate the fact we’re sleeping during the day for you.”

Darian stopped his scrubbing and turned, finding the half-orc frowning. “I appreciate it.”

“Good, because I don’t like losing sleep for no reason.” He peered into the forest. “So what do you say, think you could take me in a fight?”

Darian blinked at him. “What kind of question is that?” He stood, laying his shirt and armor atop the nearby bolder to dry.

“Only question that matters.” Gorm finished filling his water skin and stepped back, looking Darian up and down. “Gustan told me you’re some kind of beast during battle, but I’m having a hard time seeing it. You look soft to me.”

There wasn’t any malice in the way Gorm spoke, but it still sent an irritating twitch through Darian’s neck. “I’ve killed plenty up to this point. Men and monsters both.”

“Still.” Gorm squinted. “You lack experience. I can tell by the way you move.” He looked around. “Why don’t we spar a bit? I’ve not got anything better to do.”

“What good would sparring do us now? We’ll be fighting the undead by this time tomorrow night.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to, but I’m a veteran and I figured I can show you a thing or two. But it’s your call.”

Darian thought about it, but he hadn’t sparred a day in his life. He did karate a bit when he was little, but he had to quit before he ever needed to spar.

“With our hands or with weapons?”

Gorm laughed. “Let’s start with our hands. Safer that way.”

Darian nodded. “I know a flat place for us to practice.” He led Gorm around the cave, Harper already fast asleep within, Gustan messing with his potions.

The tops of the old graves had started to grow over with grass. Looking at the dark outlines made Darian smile. How long ago it all seems. Back when killing a squirrel made him sad. How quickly things change.

“Now, you stand over there. Yep just like that.” Gorm turned his head to the side, inspecting Darian’s form. “I want you to try to hit me right here.” He tapped the edge of his greenish nose.

“That’s it?”

“For now. But really come at me like you mean it. Don’t worry about hurting me, I’ve got a healing skill that can patch up minor wounds.”

Darian couldn’t be sure, but he figured he was both physically stronger and faster than Gorm. I’ll go easy on him. He widened his stance, then shot forward.

Gorm stepped around the punch, his shoulder and Darian’s brushing together, sending Darian off balance.

“Like you mean it,” he said, bouncing on the tips of his boots.

Darian turned and punched twice, the strikes twice as fast as his first. But Gorm ducked the first and bobbed his head away from the second, his palm reaching out and lightly slapping Darian’s cheek.

“Please tell me you aren’t really this slow.”

Fine then. Darian gritted his teeth and lunged, his fist flying out so fast there was no way Gorm could dodge.

But he did. He spun under the blow and pushed Darian with his left hand, causing him to stumble back and fall.

“You some kind of martial arts master or something?” Darian said, jumping to his feet.

“Hardly. Just a man whose fought in a lot of battles, most of the time against opponents far stronger than me.”

Darian came at Gorm again, this time punching lighter but faster, doing his best to use his feet to maneuver. I’m faster than him, so how does he keep moving just out of the way? Gorm ducked under Darian’s last punch, his fist crunching into Darian’s stomach with surprising strength.

He stumbled back a step. That probably would have knocked the air out of me if I needed to breathe. Darian was about to charge in again when Gorm brought a hand up, signaling for him to pause.

“You’re fast, that’s for sure,” Gorm said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “And I can tell you hit hard. Probably would only take one or two direct punches from you to put me out.”

“Then why can’t I hit you?”

He tapped his finger beside his eye. “You look right at the place you’re trying to hit.” Then he touched his lips. “And you have a tendency to frown or grit your teeth before an attack. With these, I can predict when and where you’re going to strike.”

Darian thought about his fight with Valmier. Despite their speed being relatively equal, the skeleton always seemed to know when and where Darian’s attacks would appear.

“And how do I fix that?” Darian asked, feeling a little deflated.

“With constant practice,” Gorm said, crossing his arms. “And you need to use more feints.” He stepped closer. “You use magic and a sword, right?”

“I do,” Darian answered.

“That combination will make you tricky for anyone to deal with, but if you fight someone with lots of battle experience, it won’t be enough. Strong and fast as you are, you might be able to get by fighting someone a little stronger than you, but if the gap is too much.” He clapped his hands together. “You’re going to get crushed.”

“But I beat Valmier, and he was stronger than me.”

“Aye, but you had help, didn’t you?”

Darian nodded.

“And you won’t always have help. There’s going to come a time when it’s just going to be you and someone a lot meaner and a lot tougher. When that time comes, you’ll need to be tricky.” He gave Darian a light push on the shoulder. “And you can’t be tricky if you’re still this predictable.”

“I see your point,” Darian said. “Mind training me a bit more? At least until Fria returns?”

Gorm smiled. “Let’s make a deal. I will train you, and you’ll do your best to watch my back tomorrow. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair.”

“Alright then.” Gorm took a few steps back. “Now, try to hit me.”

Darian set his stance and raised his fist. He was going to land a punch on the half-orc’s face, even if it took him all night.