The mountain trees swayed in the breeze and made a faint windy noise. The sun was halfway behind the horizon and was casting long shadows over the valley. Zandith stood on the crest of one of the highest hills, scanning the nearby hills for prey. He had an invisibility illusion active; He never knew when other hobbyist hunters would be in the area, and he wouldn’t have enough energy to wipe their memories if they saw him.

He sat against the base of a pine tree and waited for the sun to finish setting. He could never really find a comfortable position, and he had to shift his body slightly every few seconds. Such was the case his entire life. The drive to find something new, to move, to be active, was the only thing that kept him sane. He knew others thought him otherwise. To him, they were the insane ones, doing the same thing every day, week, and year, and calling it productive and exciting, even fulfilling.

He got up when the familiar scent of deer wafted in his direction. From what he could tell, it led into the shadow of the mountain. He shrugged. Perhaps hunting would start early today.

Zandith kept up the invisibility and cloaked the sound of his footsteps as well. He never did master the art of walking quietly in a forest. He couldn’t help but step on and snap every twig and leaf in his path. It was so satisfying.

He spotted his prey a quarter mile away. The deer was drinking from a stream, and she was alone on the same side as him. He smirked. This was going to be easy. In fact, he stopped right where he was and determined that the deer would come to him. He could just shoot it down right now, but there was no fun in that. The kill was going to be up close and personal, without taking a single step.

In one hand, he held the crystal that maintained his invisibility. He used the other hand to grab another crystal from his jacket. It warmed considerably, and a burning sensation spread up his arm and into his body as he pulled the Aether from it into his body. The crystal was near its max capacity, so it was easy to draw an immense amount of energy quickly.

With the blink of an eye, he cast an identical image of himself standing on the other side of the stream. He made it raise its arms up and yell, “Boo!”

The deer’s head shot up and it froze for a moment. Then it scrambled away from the stream, but not in the direction Zandith wanted. He teleported the illusion in front of the deer again and had it put its hands on its knees like it was talking to a toddler. “Where do you think you’re going, babe?”

The deer tripped over its legs as it made a hard turn away. Now it was going too far in the other direction. He repositioned the illusion several times, each time redirecting the deer a bit closer to his true position.

“Hay.”

“Ooga booga!”

“But wait, there’s more!”

“Baddabing baddaboom!”

“You haven’t paid your taxes this quarter!”

Finally, the deer bound for its life in his direction. He stopped the projection of himself, while keeping his real body cloaked. He grinned in anticipation. The burning sensation shot back into the crystal and a two-foot-long red beam extended from the tip, still within the cloaking radius.

Zandith timed the deer’s final bound just right so that its chest came down onto the shimmering blade. The deer thrashed for a few seconds as it dangled in midair, its insides sizzling. He let it drop to the ground after it went limp. The crystal began to cool down. Its natural red glow had diminished somewhat.

He extended the cloaking illusion around the deer as he went to pick it up and sling it over his shoulder. After a few glances around, he made his way back to where he had come from. While he could cloak the visuals of the deer, it was impossible to stop the molecules of scent from traveling and attracting other predators.

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The entrance to his hideout was hidden at the intersection of two mountains. It was well-guarded by several huge bushes. At least, that’s how it appeared from the outside. The bushes, as well as a good portion of the mountainside, were illusions maintained by technology of his own making. There was no external door.

He walked down the carved-out cave and approached the real doors. They scanned his face and fingerprint, then opened. He dumped the deer on the ground just inside the doors and closed them. He wasn’t done with his grocery run yet.

On the outskirts of Ridgemire were a couple farm fields nestled in between mountains. As Zandith approached the boundary of the civilized world, he looked at his wrist pad and scrolled through his many fake identities, pondering who he was going to be today. He settled on Max, a scrawny college guy in a shirt and jeans. The illusion took effect immediately.

He walked as Max past a couple vineyards until he reached the hemberry shack. It was on the verge of collapse, probably held up by his monetary contributions alone. He squinted into the sunlight as he approached, trying to see if she was still operating the shack. The savior, the goddess, the wrinkled old lady, Madam Melinda. That’s what he called her in his head.

As usual, there was no line for the hemberries, so he walked right up to the counter. Melinda sat in the rocking chair in the corner, knitting another one of her exquisite scarfs. She didn’t sell those, but he once insisted on buying one and she gave him the one she was working on then.

She looked up from her knitting and smiled a half-toothless grin. Her voice was soft and elderly. “Why hello there, son. How are you this glorious day?”

“I am doing fantastic, ma’am,” Zandith responded in Max’s nerdy voice. He scanned the shelves on the back wall. It was fully stocked with cartons of bright yellow hemberries. He could smell them from here. “Could I have five large cartons of your freshest hemberries, please?”

Melinda tilted her head in surprise. “Oh my, that’s quite an order. It doesn’t look like you have anything to carry them. Are you sure you can carry them by yourself?”

“I can manage it,” Zandith said with an awkward smile.

“Okay, if you say so.” She put her knitting down on the coffee table next to her and rose delicately out of the chair. She walked with a slight hunch to the shelves and went over the labels with a finger. She was always so deliberate with her work, sometimes Zandith worried she might be losing her memories. Ever since her husband had died a decade ago, she was the only one running the hemberry farm. Sure, the machines automatically picked the hemberries from the field, but someone still needed to sell them from the shack. It seemed that nobody but her was interested in doing so. She brought each carton to the counter one by one, setting each one down as if it were a precious animal. Zandith knew he would treat them the same way.

“You know,” Melinda said, putting both hands flat on the counter. “If it weren’t for angels like you showing up every once in a while, I think I’d be out of business.”

“I don’t know how you remain unknown to the entire world!” Zandith said. “This is the only place I come to for hemberries.”

“Oh,” Melinda said, putting her hand over her heart, “I appreciate the complement, but I don’t recall seeing you before.”

Zandith blinked, then he remembered. He had been to this shack as countless other personas, but never as Max. He was supposed to be Max. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been here many times, but my face is pretty forgettable I guess.”

Melinda waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t say that, dear. I’ll be sure to remember you next time. What’s your name?”

“Max.”

“Melinda,” she said, reaching out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes!” Zandith shook her hand. “Absolutely.”

He paid using the credits he had stolen over the years. He stacked the cartons one on top of the other. The top of the stack rose up to his chin. Once he had a firm grasp on them, he smiled at Melinda and gave his thanks.

She returned the smile and waved. “Safe travels, dear.”

The trek back to his hideout was arduous but familiar. Fortunately, no wolves attacked him this time. Last time was a disaster, and he had had to go back and buy more hemberries.

He took the elevator down to his lab a couple miles below the surface. He put all but one carton in the fridge. He returned to the entrance and took the deer carcass down to the machine that would skin it and prepare the meat to be edible. He was a hunter and an engineer, not a cook.

He sat at the table in the small dining room, ripped the top of the hemberry carton open, and started gorging himself. He didn’t care that he forgot to clean them. He couldn’t get over the exquisite taste. Halfway through the carton, his eyes began to tear up. How had he come to be numb to everything except for the taste of hemberries? They weren’t even the sweetest berry on the market.

His wrist pad dinged with a notification. It was from Specter Four. “Brandon has been admitted to West Ridgemire Jail with a three-week sentence.”

“Perfect,” Zandith replied.

“It also appears that both Brandon and his son have interacted with Domrik.”

Zandith paused his hemberry eating to read the message over twice.

“Less than perfect.”