“Mind your step, boys and girls. Get bit by a [Vorpal Gopher] before you start and you won’t make a copper.” The orchard master’s voice rang out as the sun rose and the heavy steel doors of the Rolling Fortress swung open. Made to protect the classless from normal monsters during the night, it was only the last layer of defense.

Kaden Birch stepped out, awed by the Adventurers on either side. A [Ranger], dressed in a cloak that constantly shifted to match the trees behind her, with a [Fire-Hawk] perched on her shoulder, a [Warrior], his sword still bloody and his leather armor torn. The [Mage] was neither man nor woman, but a floating form of otherworldly mana who radiated dread as Kaden stuck close to the doors of the Fortress.

He’d heard the Adventurers fighting last night, keeping the orphans safe for this dawn venture. Early enough that the Vorpal Gophers would still be drowsy, not late enough for more deadly wildlife to come foraging, like a [Bearzerker].

Across the orchard, the first rays of sun light up [Glass Apples,] the fruit which could house more powerful potions. But the best apples would be those that still held last night’s moonlight, a soft glow visible if one looked just right.

Kaden picked up an apple-pack, a pouch padded with magic that would keep them from getting crushed, and took a deep breath of cold morning air. At seventeen, this would be the last year the Saint’s Hall allowed him to take such easy work. After today, it would be the mines and their monsters, or working commerce caravans through Fangwood until he could afford to buy an apprenticeship.

“Kaden?” his room-sister, Trella asked. “You’ll be careful? Don’t go too far from the wagon?”

He nodded. It was safer that way. But safety wouldn’t earn him coppers or the chance to buy a [Skill]. “If anything goes wrong, hide in the fortress.”

The way Trella tapped on his hand reminded Kaden of his mother, a [Rogue] who had been capable of communicating silently. Kaden barely remembered the patterns she tapped out.

The orchard master blew on a low horn. “All clear, move out and good harvesting to you. Remember, if you see anything—”

“Run. Scream. Keep Running,” the orphans chanted back as one.

They started moving out, some of them, fanning out under the trees, and there, the first shout of luck that said someone had already found a ripe glass apple. The ones who remained with Kaden had either decided not to risk it, or, like him, wanted to gamble on a hint.

The boy ahead of Kaden drew a copper coin from his pocket and tossed it to the warrior. “Where was the brightest glow?”

The brightest glow would be where the best apples were.

Kaden listened, wishing he’d learned [Whispers of the Forest] from his father, a [Ranger]. Whatever the warrior said was either too soft for normal ears, or the warrior used a Skill to keep it quiet.

Kaden’s hands strayed to his pocket, and the whittling knife there, the leaf token he’d carved the way his father taught. He fished it out edged closer and closer the the Ranger, offering it. It was never good to presume with Adventurers.

She drew back her hood, her mouth pressed in a thin line like a dagger’s edge, and accepted the carving. Then the lightest tap on his mind shocked Kaden.

Virgil and Trema’s boy, right?

He nodded, not capable of answering this way.

She leaned over, acting as though she whispered, though her words didn’t come from lips. You want to know where to hunt? Anywhere but here. We found a dead [Bearzerker] this morning, torn up as something else’s snack. Don’t know why they send the unclassed out here. You watch, there’ll be six dead before ninth bell, and if they don’t call an evacuation, I’ll give you a point of [Advanced Tracking.]

The warning stuck a knife of fear in Kaden’s gut. Adventurers earned almost every point of skill with sweat and blood. There were academies, of course, where people with money learned from those who had mastered skills. Master enough skills, and the [System] recognized the effort with a [Class].

Most of the orphans here weren’t friends. There was no such thing as friendship in Saint’s Hall. The strong took from the weak, the teachers not only allowed it, but commended it.

But six dead?

“Thank you,” Kaden said.

He wouldn’t go far. But he couldn’t afford to skip the chance. Two apples would secure him food for the month. Three might be enough to bribe a retired [Ranger] to share a skill point. [Eagle Eyes,] [Sting of the Scorpion], [Wolf’s Determination], any of those would be enough to let him make a living while he mastered more skills.

But for now, he kept his Apple-Pack close, the Fortress in sight, and moved out, listening for the gnawing of vorpal gophers—and worse.

***

Three hours since sunrise, three hours to go, and a single apple in his pack, Kaden swung by the Fortress for a [Preserved Biscuit]. Over a hundred years ago, a mighty siege had driven cooks to invent and create thousands of them. Flavorless, tasteless, both dry and mushy at the same time, the pucks could be dipped in water, kicked through a fire, swallowed down then puked up and they’d still be the same.

Rumor had it the Saint’s Hall bought every last biscuit when the siege ended. That they fed the orphans biscuits was not rumor, but fact.

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

Trella held up three fingers hopefully as she handed him a biscuit.

Kaden shook his head and held up two, afraid to tell her the truth. He’d make it true before noon and the retreat horn. And this time, he set off deeper into the orchard, though he felt the eyes of the Ranger upon him as he left the camp behind.

Trees with smashed or fallen apples wouldn’t hold ripe fruit, and Kaden didn’t stand a chance in a fight against any orphan with a Skill. He needed an area of the orchard where he was alone. Further and further, he crept, until the cries of the others fell behind him. Until the sounds of the [Dagger-Hornets] hunting among the trees drowned out the shouts of triumph.

Listen to the woods. They’ll tell you what to watch for, if you’ll listen, his Father said in memory. [Whispers of the Forest] would have let him do it, but no matter how Kaden listened, he didn’t hear the forest voice.

No.

He felt the slightest tremor. The tree he crouched beneath shook slightly, and the apples in it tinkled as they swayed. Kaden held his breath until his chest burned, but the dagger-wasps resumed their hunt. He didn’t fear them, even though the wasps were each as long as his hand. The nests would be marked with flashing red warning crystals, and here in the orchard, there was always prey, the maggots who fed on apples.

A few dozen trees over, something caught Kaden’s eye. He crept as quietly as he could to the ancient apple tree. The bark was gnarled and rotten, the branches mostly broken. This year, the [Gardeners] would rip it out and plant a new one.

But there, on a single healthy branch near the top, a Glass Apple hung, shining with golden light, not silver. A [Sun Apple], the legendary healing fruit. A thousand Glass Apples wouldn’t be worth a single [Sun Apple], filled with light mana.

The shout of triumph died in Kaden’s lips as the ground shook once more.

He was too close to run. Too perfect a chance.

We must all find a place in the [System], his father had said. No place is without risk.

Like, both parents dying in the depths of a dungeon.

Like, living on the streets when Winter’s icy grip closed in.

Kaden began to climb, finding empty knot holes and testing each branch before putting his weight on it. Soon, he sat atop the rotten apple tree. With shaking fingers, he plucked the sun apple and tucked it away.

A hawk’s cry drew his attention. There, high above the orchard, the Ranger’s hawk came soaring back. With every breath, she screamed out her cry, and it woke something deep in his chest.

*Danger*, it said.

Kaden swung his apple-catcher back into place—and froze. The ground under his apple tree bubbled and hissed. A vorpal gopher. The creature erupted through the soil, electricity arcing off its teeth and claws.

It hissed, a long strangled cry, and scrabbled at the apple tree.

Run? Scream? Keep running? All of those applied if Kaden wasn’t up an apple tree.

The creature began to claw into the trunk, tearing loose rotten wood.

Vorpal Gophers fed on Dagger-wasps who landed on the ground to check fallen apples for maggots. They struck from below ground, phasing through the soil to grab wasps. But they’d take any meat. Including Kaden.

The tree began to shake and lean, and Kaden scrambled to one side to counterbalance it.

The ground under the tree once more began to boil. Dozens of vorpal gophers exploded up. But these weren’t focused on Kaden, they swarmed away, dispersing through the trees, heading toward camp.

Trella! Kaden had to warn her. He swung down, getting ready to drop, when the Hawk’s scream directly over made him freeze.

*Hide*, it seemed to cry.

He clung to the tree, holding his breath. And the ground shook. Not once. Not twice, but in a steady beat like a heart.

Three long blasts blew on a horn, followed by two. Emergency Evacuation, it said.

“Help!” Someone screamed from across the orchard, just a few hundred yards away.

Kaden knew the voice. It was Brom, a boy a year younger than him, but with two skills already, and one short of his [Thief] class. The Gods only knew how many times Brom had used [Unseen Blow] to land a sucker punch on Kaden when meals were distributed.

But the terror in his voice left Kaden breathless.

A dozen trees away, someone sprinted through the trees. Brom threw his Apple-Pack over his shoulder, and as it hit the ground, a grey form burst up, throwing dirt, boulders and trees.

Brom sailed up in the air—and down into the cavernous maw of a gray centipede. Its fore-jaws were like two set of shovels which forced the soil away, and hind jaws like ring upon ring of jagged teeth circled.

Kaden looked away until the screaming stopped, which took far too long.

*[Corpse-Tunneler]* the eagle cried again, diving at the beast and striking at what could possibly be eyes. Spines shot out of the corpse-tunneler’s skin, and the eagle spun to narrowly avoid them.

Kaden almost didn’t notice as the apple tree beneath him gave up and splintered, crashing to the ground. He leaped off as it hit the ground and sprinted away, grabbing branches and using them to leap further. If the beast sensed tremors, every step without them would help.

Behind him, an apple tree snapped and branches rained down as the Corpse Tunneler devoured an entire apple tree.

*Here*, the Ranger called, a moment of movement making her stand out. *Get to the Rolling Fortress.*

The giant steel box, with its iron chains and wheels for the draft horses to pull, had one door already shut. Trema sprinted for the open door—then stuttered. She disappeared, and reappeared inside the box.

[Shadow Walk!] Kaden knew the rogue skill well. But without it, he could only curse as the priests from Saint’s Hall pulled the other door shut, locking him out.

The [Warrior] stood by the sealed doors. His leather armor was still torn, but the tears leaked blood, as though he were already cut. “If you wanted a front row seat, you should have said so. Up you go, lad.” The warrior grabbed Kaden by the front of his tunic and threw him through the air.

Kaden landed on the Fortress roof, hitting his head so hard the world spun.

Below him, voices cried out in fear inside the box. Around him, the adventurers shouted franticly, calling the names of their skills for the [System Bonus] it provided.

As he struggled to make the world make sense, the mage let loose a cry of agony and sorrow.

Something fluttered to the roof of the strong box, landing right beside Kaden.

The Fire-Hawk.

A gray spine stuck out of its back, and the golden feathers of its breast slowly turned red.

Kaden cradled it close, unsure if he should pull it out or leave it. The warrior was shouting now, calling out battle orders. But Kaden was listening to the hawk.

*Please*.

The hawk’s eye focused on him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Kaden said.

In the depths of the Hawk’s eye, an image formed. The Sun Apple.

*Please.*

The Sun Apple wasn’t just money. It was safety for Kaden. Opportunity. But as he looked at the hawk, each breath coming slower than the last, Kaden knew what he had to do. He opened the keeper and drew out the apple, holding it to the hawk’s beak. Did hawks eat apples?

The hawk’s beak pierced the skin of the apple, and golden light poured out, snapping the spine in half and pushing it out of the hawk’s chest.

It rose, hopping onto both feet, and spread its wings wide as it bowed, then it flew down to land on the shoulder of the Ranger. The Rolling Fortress shook and rattled as the enchantments on it came to life, dragging it away from the orchards.

“This orchard is closed,” The [Ranger] shouted. Her voice quavered. “No more harvests this year.”

There was no sign of the [Mage], but laying on the ground was the severed head of the [Corpse-Tunner]. And beside it, the destroyed body of the [Warrior].

Kaden clutched his apple-keeper close. No more harvests. Not enough apples. It was a long roll back to the city, and every moment he spent wondering how to survive.