Thankfully, Ted’s HP healed much faster overnight. He didn’t plan on any more broken bones, or worse, but it was good to know that healing wasn’t quite as slow as his sheet suggested.

Under Cara’s direction, his days were filled to the brim with activity, their routine quickly becoming his new normal.

In the mornings, he ate breakfast with Cara and the other wood elves. Well, mostly Cara. The others kept their distance. The few who came over to make conversation didn’t stay long, no matter how warmly he greeted them.

The food was somewhat bland, though reassuringly wholesome. Berries, nuts, and mushrooms were a constant fixture, accompanied by whatever meat the hunters or rangers brought back. Definitely a lot healthier and tastier than rice and beans.

During the days, Cara took him down to the forest floor for a balance of hunting and training. Despite her tendency to throw her arms up and declare it hopeless, her boundless energy and playfulness made learning fun. Haphazard and disorganized, but enjoyable. Even the teasing wasn’t so bad, so long as he remembered that she didn’t really mean it.

Well, mostly didn’t mean it, anyway.

Despite gaining levels quickly in Stealth, standing completely still continued to elude him. Judging from how Cara couldn’t stop moving most of the time, she’d doubtless had to work a very long time to master it. If she could do it, so could he.

They even let him have a bow on the forest floor, though they were very insistent that he hand it in before ascending to the village. Not that they had anything to fear—even with a weapon, he was still the only one on the forest floor for whom a wolf was anything but easy lunch.

The bow provided was almost comically short, designed for the elven equivalent of young teens, and even that took all his strength to draw. Apparently, 9 Strength was far from ideal for archery, not that the alternatives were any easier. Getting up close and personal with his physical stats was an even worse idea, and teaching him magic was—apparently—a step too far.

Even understanding why, Ted bristled against the restriction. Magic was so close he could almost taste it, and at times the mana within him tingled, tempting him to draw on its power. Yet, as tempting as it was, the wood elves’ stern warnings about the dangers of magic rung as anything but hollow.

One way or another, he would learn magic. For now, though, all he could do was keep his head down and practice the multitude of other skills he’d need to survive in this world.

Skills like downing a wolf with arrows instead of a broken branch, and without breaking your own arm.

Despite the existence of an Accuracy perk, hitting a target was as much about technique as stats. Each extra level of the Archery skill he gained made it easier, no doubt about that, but not as much as taking Cara’s advice to heart.

Shoulder width stance. Cradle the bow. Follow through. When it came to archery, she knew her stuff, and was a good—though impatient—teacher.

Then there were all the other skills involved in hunting. No matter what Cara said, his first few attempts were better not spoken of. Even after that, every attempt revealed a new way to mess up a hunt—losing the target’s tracks, being heard, a shift of the wind giving away his scent, or, most depressing of all, missing a completely stationary target.

Yet, after many, many failures, his arrow finally found its mark. Ted suspected the poor torric had been old and more than a little deaf, but Cara was over the moon all the same. Seeing her so proud made getting stuck with her almost feel worthwhile.

The other hunters cheered as he brought home the kill. He was one of them now, or closer to it. A hunter useful to the village rather than just an alien burden. One of them—Kegan, the shortest adult wood elf Ted had seen—even clapped him on the back, all while wearing a huge grin that seemed dangerously genuine.

In the evenings, Ted worked on his Wood Elvish, either studying with the aid of the village’s extensive library or practicing with Cara. Occasionally, he slipped and referred to it simply as Elvish. Her rebukes were never too unkind, but always swift.

When Ted studied, he lounged on the bed with the old tomes, grateful for the Common-Wood Elvish dictionary the librarian had dug up. Cara liked to sit with her back against the wall, working on some craft or other. Some nights, it would be a single bow or a piece of leather armor all evening. Others, she flittered between her potted plants, carving wooden figures, and one of the half dozen other projects she had on the go.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Aren’t your profession skills Bowyer and Leatherworker?” Ted asked one evening, idly stroking Nibbles as he read Cara’s favorite children’s book.

She glared up from her woodcarving, her scowl marring what had been a pleasant evening. Silence dragged out a little too long before she answered. “… Yes.”

A quiver in Ted’s stomach warned him to be careful. He was clearly walking into a minefield, but it simply didn’t sense, and he had to know. This wasn’t his world, and whatever he could learn about it, the better. Hopefully, she’d understand that. “So how are you gaining levels in Woodworking?”

“I’m not.” She returned to her task, glowering as she worked.

Nibbles darted off the bed, bounded across the room, and leaped up onto Cara’s shoulder. The adorable little creature brushed up against Cara’s ear and nibbled gently at it, draining away some of the anger in her motions.

There was a sadness in Cara’s face, one Ted wished he could take away. No matter how hard she tried, she’d never be as good as even a novice who had it as a skill. So much dedication poured into her hobby that she’d never be properly recognized for.

No wonder it was a sore spot. How many others had asked her why she did it?

Judged her for it?

He put aside the book and made his way over to her. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?”

Ted’s chest tightened. “Like that you shouldn’t do it.”

She slowly raised her chin, her face still scrunched up.

“I think it’s cool.” He slumped down beside her and looked properly at the carving in her hand. “It’s Nibbles, isn’t it?”

She put down her tool and tentatively held up the carving. “Maybe.”

Nibbles sniffed it, squeaked a few times, and rubbed her face against it, causing Cara and Ted to both burst out laughing, washing away the tension in the air.

When the laughter faded away, Cara sighed. “In your world, there are no levels, right?”

The question had become a familiar one, but this felt different. Usually, it was incredulous, often with a side helping of pity. This was more curiosity sprinkled with envy. “Right.”

“So people can get better at whatever they want? Have more than two profession skills without being super amazing geniuses?”

Her eyes gleamed. Interest was a welcome change, but she had to know it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. “Yes, and no. Yes, there’s no strict limit like that, but it takes a lot of time to get good at something, and when you stop, you start to forget it. Most people specialize in only one profession, to be honest.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” She slumped back against the wall. “What was your profession?”

“I was still a student, studying computer science. I don’t suppose you have computers, though? Machines capable of doing massive amounts of calculations.”

She shook her head. “Supposedly, they have magic like that in the big cities, but we don’t have any need for that. What made you pick it?”

It was the smart choice. It had great job prospects. It was a good fit for an analytical brain. All good reasons. Hot tingling stabbed at his gut. It certainly had nothing to do with his father being a computer programmer. “I—I’m not sure. You?”

“I always knew I wanted to be a ranger. I just wish I could be a dozen other things as well.”

Ted sat up straighter, his chest pounds lighter for the change of subject. “What are the Rangers?”

Her chin rose, and a satisfied smile spread across her face. “We keep people safe. For now, I’m a Lookout, the eyes of the Rangers. I hunt while I patrol. It’s a great way to be useful and keep my skills up.”

“Sounds like an important job.”

“It is. You should join! It would suit you.”

More responsibility, and more danger? No, he wasn’t insane. Well, hopefully he wasn’t that insane. “Thanks, but if there’s danger, I’d rather be running away than towards it.”

Cara shrugged. “Trouble seems to have a habit of finding you, anyway. Besides, this is one of the least dangerous parts of the Forest. It’s a great training ground.” Her smile soured. “At least, it was.”

Safe for her, maybe. He’d barely survived a half-dead wolf. If he hadn’t found Cara, he’d almost certainly have died long ago. “Doesn’t mean I need to go looking for trouble,” he said, but the idea refused to stop squatting in his head that easily. “I’ll think about it. Maybe it’ll be more appealing when I’m higher level.”

“No rush, you’ll take a while to level.” Cara glanced out the window at the last rays of the dying light. “And on that note, get some sleep. I don’t want you tired and grumpy for training again, not when I’m taking you deeper into the Forest.”

“I wasn’t grumpy! All I wondered was, don’t you guys have weekends or something?”

She stared at him and, completely deadpan, asked, “Do you eat all week?”

He rolled his eyes and headed for bed. “Fine, fine, I get it. Hurry up and cast the Alarm spell around me. Wouldn’t want me getting up for a piss in the night without you knowing.”

She groaned. “Do I really have to?”

“Would you trust me if I said no?”

She stared back at him, her head cocked, with—hopefully—mock suspicion in her eyes. “That’s exactly what an evil shapeshifter would say.”

“Precisely.” The first night, he hadn’t even noticed. He’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Now, her intricate motions invoking the Alarm spell were a part of his bedtime routine. “Me? I’m always happy to see more magic.”

Her eyes narrowed. She probably didn’t believe him, but she knew he was right. It was her duty, and if there was one thing Cara took seriously, it was duty. She’d regret shirking it, even if he didn’t try murdering her in her sleep.

“Fine, fine.” She theatrically pulled herself to her feet like it was a task of Hercules. “If it’ll make you happy. Where’s my hairbrush?”

“Between those two plants, same as the last time you asked.”

It was worth the glare, and the way her face scrunched up as she tried and failed to think of a good comeback. “Maybe you are an evil shapeshifter,” she growled. “Sleep well. You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”