Jacob woke up to the scent of blood.

Instantly, his mouth filled with off-tasting, thick drool as he opened his eyes to see what looked like the corpse of an unusually small deer, though it had greenish-brown fur and horns instead of antlers. A bullet hole in its skull testified as to what had put it down. Trying to scramble towards the corpse, Jacob was yanked backward by a heavy metal chain tied around a large rock. After a few minutes of straining, Jacob scrabbled backward, trying to figure out how to get to the food without breaking his neck. It was hard to think right now, considering he was so hungry. Trying to force the collar off proved fruitless, and the rock was too heavy to shift with only one arm. Frustrated, Jacob was about to try and saw through the chain with his claws when he lifted his head at the sound of something moving nearby, Life Sense flaring. The Forsaken growled as he saw what looked like a woman with pointed ears, sharp features, and wearing little other than a loincloth, satchel, bandolier of shotgun shells, and a wrap bra. She looked annoyed as Jacob hissed at her. “If you want that deer carcass undead, we’re going to have to talk first,” she stated. The Forsaken glared at her but scooted back, sulking.

Sophie snorted. “That’s better. Now, we’re going to lay some ground rules. First off, this is a team. Whatever we get, whether food, ammo, or money, we split equally. Second off, you’re not going to spread your Curse. You said it yourself, you can only make weak undead, but I don’t need the Night Howlers on my ass because you’re filling up the woods with zombies and specters.” She paused as an unpleasant look came over her face. “Third,” she continued. “You make sure to pull your own weight. We can help each other, but if you start slacking, I’m leaving you to die. Got it?”

Jacob nodded reluctantly, flat glowing purple eyes narrowing. “I accept,” he rasped, voice rough and growling, his remaining claw trying to reach for the dead ‘deer’ again. Sophie rolled her eyes and pushed the carcass over towards the Forsaken, who immediately started crudely skinning and eating it. As the half-undead ate, the werewolf watched as Jacob slowly began looking more alive, claws and fangs retreating to a more subtle size while his grey skin became a more pale but normal tone. By the time the Forsaken’s eyes stopped glowing, the carcass was reduced to bones and offal, and Jacob’s battered clothing was once more covered in blood and gore.

At least his arm was growing back at a faster rate, already down to the elbow and just starting into the forearm. Jacob sighed, looking down at his filthy clothing. “I’d really like to have clothes that last for more than a day,” he lamented. Sophie rolled her eyes. “There’s a stream nearby,” she said, motioning behind the Forsaken. “Just follow the sound, and you can’t miss it. The werewolf held out the bayonet to Jacob’s stolen carbine. “I’m taking an educated guess you can’t reload a gun with only one hand, so here you go. Try not to run into anything too big to stab to death.” She really doesn't like me, Jacob thought as Sophie produced a key and unlocked the collar. Jacob stood up, stretching, which was hard with only one and a half arms. Shoving the bayonet into its scabbard, Jacob started walking in the direction Sophie had pointed, desperately hoping to get the remains of his meal off his clothing before it dried.

At first, Jacob thought it was nighttime until he saw the patches of sunlight poking through the trees; the canopy was so dense it was blocking out almost all the light from above. The Forsaken was glad of this; he may have once enjoyed the sun’s rays, but now? Now he was a creature of the night. God, that sounds cheesy, Jacob thought, following the sound of the stream. It was roughly two feet deep at its lowest, though it was fast and cold. Wading into the stream, Jacob started scooping up the water, rubbing it on the blood, staining the tough fabric of his shirt. It was difficult to wash one’s hands with only one of them, but Jacob somehow managed. His clothing wasn’t spotless – far from it – but at least the Forsaken didn’t look like an axe murderer anymore. Looking down at his missing arm, now fully into regenerating his forearm, Jacob sighed. “I’m probably going to have to eat all over again once this thing is fully grown back,” he lamented. Though considering I now enjoy the taste of raw meat, the struggle is going to be efficiently killing something.

Wading back out of the stream, Jacob started the long trek back towards the campsite. He didn't feel cold per se, but his low body temperature meant he felt wet longer than he was used to. As he walked, Jacob’s mind started wandering back to his death. What was that strange, dark, animal-thing? Had they found his body yet? Was his funeral over? Or was his body still rotting at the bottom of the Albertsons Reservoir? Like I’ll ever know, Jacob thought bitterly, looking down at the pale bone poking out of his regenerating arm. And maybe I shouldn’t know. For all I know, time works differently here, and it’s been centuries or hell, even millennia since I died. The Forsaken shivered at that and continued on his way.

Jacobs’s Life Sense was growing as he got within what he assumed was the campsite and spotted a campfire in the distance. Something seemed off in part of the Forsaken’s brain, as if he was missing something. Why would Sophie build a campfire? Wouldn’t that attract attention? Still, maybe she was cooking herself some food? Jacob assumed that the werewolf could eat both raw and cooked food, but perhaps she preferred her meals cooked. As for himself, as much as he hated it, Jacob enjoyed his meals as raw and fresh as possible. At this point, the Forsaken could hear multiple voices talking, making it clear that this wasn’t Sophie. Slowing down, Jacob instantly began lightening his steps and taking care to move slowly. Carefully ducking behind a bush, Jacob could hear the voices talking.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Pass me another beer Bush,” Jacob heard a rough voice say.

“Get it yourself, Alton. For fucks sake, I’ve been passing you beer all night.”

There was some grumbling, but Jacob heard a heavy thump, and then footsteps crunching before the clink of a bottle echoed. “See if I’m passing you another beer tonight…” the voice Jacob was guessing was Alton grumbled. That got a snort in return. “Good thing I’m sitting right next to the cooler,” Bush’s voice said. There were some other chuckles, but a third voice spoke up. “Fellows, settle down. We’re getting to the outpost in a day, and soon, we’ll be raking it in. There’s got to be millions of Domars worth of Shuntstone left in that mine, and we’ve got the manpower and grit to stake our claim and be rich as kings.” There were some soft cheers as Jacobs heard whirled. Mine? Wait, are they talking about the mine with the werewolves? Jacob both shivered and drooled at the thought of the bloodbath. I don’t know these guys Levels, but considering how strong the werewolves are… it’ll be a slaughter. He gulped, feeling the regenerating nerves in his arm tingle. I have to get back to Sophie. Carefully, Jacob moved away from the campsite and hopefully back to where Sophie was, pulling up his map embarrassedly.

Why didn’t I use this earlier?

Roughly an hour later, Jacob had finally made it back to Sophie, who was looking annoyed. “Got lost?” she deadpanned, then stopped at the Forsaken’s expression. “What?” she asked.

“There’s a bunch of miners up north. I.. overheard them talking about going up to the mane. The one with your… pack.”

“Former pack,” Sophie corrected. “Also, why should we care?”

Jacob looked horrified. “They’re are average people. Based on how they were talking… the werewolves will rip them apart.”

[CLASS SHEET]

Class: Survivalist

Level: 1

XP: 10/50

Skills [Offense]: Haymaker [F]; Mana Bolt [F]

Skills [Defense]: Adrenaline Rush [F]; Identify [F]

Training (Weapons/Armor): Basic Armor [F]; Common Weapons [F]; Firearms [F]; Traps [F]

Training (Tools): Survival Gear [F]

Training (Vehicles): Draft Animals [F]; Land Vehicles [F]; Riding Animals [F]

Training (Other): First Aid [F]; Foraging [F]; Rituals [F]; Spells [F]; Stealth [F] Wilderness Survival [F]; Urban Survival [F]

What does ‘F’ mean? Jacob wondered as Bentley pulled up a screen.

SKILL/TRAINING RANKS

All Skills and Trainings have a Rank denoting their owner’s capability to use them. All Skills start at Rank ‘F’ or ‘Beginner,’ increasing in Rank as the User practices or utilizes them. The following Ranks are;

[F]: Beginner.

[E]: Capable

[D]: Competent

[C]: Experienced

[B]: Veteran

[A]: Master

[S]: Paragon

As a Skill/Training grows in Rank, the User may also discover new tricks or facets of their Skill or Training. The only way to discover these new ‘tricks’ is to experience them, think them up, or have a moment of Inspiration.

Huh.

Jacob closed the box one-handed, though his ‘missing’ arm was already working on his hand. Trying to ignore the tingling, Jacob leaned back against a tree and looked over at Sophie, who was sharpening a large bowie knife. Looking over, the werewolf said “Just so you know, you’re taking first watch tonight. Nothing trains better than field experience.” Jacob wasn’t enthused but nodded. With that, Sophie put the whetstone and blade away before pushing over the cartridge rifle. “You're going to need this,” she said. Jacob looked down at his partially regrown arm and back at Sophie, who rolled her eyes. “Please. You should have your fingers regrown within the hour.”

The Forsaken sighed. “I’m going to need to eat again when it’s done,” he muttered, feeling the chill start to seep through his bones as the Life Essence in him was used up. Sophie sighed. “Do it in the dusk. You’ll need some practice with that rifle anyway.” With that, she turned over and immediately fell asleep. Feeling conflicted and unsettled, Jacob rested back against the tree, rifle held in one hand, and started his long, lonely watch.