Walking through the forest is actually a pleasure. The sun and leaves make a dappled pattern on the layers of last year’s dropped leaves. My Stealth has already levelled up to Beginner four despite not getting much practice over the last few days of digging pits. The moments when it directs my feet to shift slightly so they don’t step on a crunchy leaf or a crackly stick still feel a bit weird, but I’m getting used to it.

I keep my eyes out in all directions both for potential threats and for branches that look like they’d either be good for the pottery kiln or my indoor fire. Having walked a good hour’s distance away from the cave, I’m finding plenty, which is good for my pyromanical plans. My vague plans of rebuilding my Energy store by killing creatures which attack me are not going so well.

The forest is strangely quiet. There’s the normal sound of birds and small animals rustling in the leaves, but all the bigger animals seem to be in hiding. The prey-type animals which I normally catch an occasional glimpse of are absent, and I haven’t been attacked once in three hours! Although that has happened to me before – walking in the forest and not being attacked – it’s not what generally occurs.

It’s a bit eerie, to be honest, and puts me more on edge than having been attacked would. I keep collecting wood, though, while also keeping a sharp eye out for anything dangerous that might have moved into the local area and scared off everything of reasonable size. Or whatever has caused this unusual stillness to descend on the woods. If all the denizens have been scared into hiding, I don’t want to meet the cause.

It’s about half an hour later that I suddenly hear something which makes me freeze and activate Fade. Feeling more protected now I’m not visible, I focus on the sound, trying to work out what it is. It comes and goes, sounding like...breathing? But very wet breathing, if so. Is there an amphibious monster or something?

When the sound doesn’t move or even change much, I dare to creep closer, pushing my stealth capacity to the max. When I detect that the sound is coming from behind a tree, I use the tree as cover and then slowly peer around, ready to leap away and run for my life at a moment’s notice.

What meets my gaze is not an amphibious monster. It’s not a threat, either. Not now, at least. Deadly-looking claws are coated in blood, most of it looking like the creature’s own. Feathered wings are soaked in red and lying limply. The absence of blood around the creature’s tooth-filled maw tells the tale of its complete helplessness against its attacker. And finally, the wide slice in its side as well as its limp, muscular body indicates that this raptorcat is close to death. The only way I can tell that it’s not already dead is because I can see its ribs moving slightly with each breath, and I can still hear the wet sound of air passing in and out of its lungs.

The sight fills me with a mixture of emotions. Relief: that I’m not in danger from the maker of the sound. Satisfaction: that a creature that tried to hunt and kill me has been hunted and killed in turn. Sadness at the same: that a proud creature of the forest has been reduced to a still-moving carcass, if not for long. Fear: that whatever did this to a deadly raptorcat is still around...and might still be in a murderous mood. Though from what I can tell, it’s been a good few hours since the attack – the blood at the edges is too congealed for anything else.

Actually, considering the gash in the raptorcat’s side is still leaking blood, it’s amazing that the creature has survived for so long after the attack. It must have an amazing Constitution stat, is the only thing I can think of. Do animals have Constitution stats? It’s a good question, but not one I should probably be asking now. Still, the fact that the attack must have happened hours ago, maybe even as much as a day, means that I shouldn’t need to worry about the attacker being nearby.

Apart from my emotions, I’m also left with a choice. I could just leave the raptorcat here: it will die soon. Maybe not in less than an hour or so, but still, I could let nature take its course. Equally, I could put it out of its misery now and not leave it to suffer for the next hour or hours. That’s probably the best option of the two as I would then get Energy as well.

However...I’ve got another option. I could try Dominate. I wouldn’t have dared to use it on an alert raptorcat – not only does it apparently leave me vulnerable for a few seconds afterwards if it’s unsuccessful which would be a death sentence, but the raptorcat’s buddies would probably attack me even while I was having the Battle of Wills. Now, though… I look around to verify that we’re alone. Well, apart from small birds in the trees, that is.

I don’t think I’ll have a better chance of getting a raptorcat onside than this. I was going to set a trap and try to catch one later down the line, but that was always going to be fraught with danger. This way, there’s very little risk to me as even if the attempt is unsuccessful, it’s not like the raptorcat will be able to do anything to retaliate, not in its condition.

That’s another question, actually. Will Lay-on-hands work on something other than me? And if it does work, will I be able to heal a wound as serious as the one in front of me? I don’t know, but I’m not keen on trying before succeeding with Dominate as the raptorcat will probably show its thanks for healing by going for my throat.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Having convinced myself, I settle on the other side of the tree from the injured creature, leaning around just enough to see it – no need to take chances, after all. I try to trigger Dominate, but nothing happens. Frowning, I wonder why. I know the Skill works – I’ve used it with Spike. Is the raptorcat too close to death?

Something tells me that’s not the answer, so I wrack my brains to try to work out what else could be the problem. Thinking through what happened with Spike, I remember that I had an issue in activating Dominate with him too… It only worked when I met his… I groan. When I met his eyes. So much for the safe strategy, I sigh to myself.

Pushing myself to my feet, I walk around so I’m right next to the raptorcat’s head and then crouch down and tentatively reach out to place my hand on its head. When it doesn’t snap its eyes open and try to maul my hand, not moving at all, in fact, I breathe out a silent breath of relief. Its head lying against the ground, I shift my hand towards the eye facing upwards. No reaction. Still tense and ready to snatch my hand away and stumble backwards at any moment, I use two fingers to force the raptorcat’s eyelid open.

This time it reacts, shifting slightly and making a hoarse plaintive sound. I snatch my hand back and don’t even breathe while I wait to see if it’s going to try to attack me. It’s too weak to do that, and just moves a little before settling back into its position. Well, if that’s all it has to threaten me with, it should be fine.

Emboldened, I reach forward again and open its eyelid. Ignoring its slight movements this time, I stare into its single eye and firmly say ‘Dominate’. This time, it works and I’m once more catapulted into that strange zone where I haven’t really gone anywhere, but nothing other than the raptorcat lying opposite me matters.

It’s more aware than it was in the physical world – because I’ve come to guess that this is a mental or spiritual world – but it’s still clearly injured and weak. Like before with Spike, we’re both fixed in place with a great sense of pressure between us, our eyes fixed on each other’s. Knowing better what to expect from this since I’ve been through it once before, I’m quicker to start directing the pressure at the raptorcat.

Immediately, it’s different from before: I can start moving towards the raptorcat, the ‘pressure hose’ in my hands directed at it, but there’s also some sense of opposing pressure, like my opponent also has a pressure hose, albeit weaker. I’m not only fighting against the almost solid air between us; I’m also fighting against the directed pressure trying to push me away from the raptorcat lying opposite.

I gaze into its golden, slit-pupil eyes and see a defiance and anger which is thoroughly different from Spike. He had resisted me, but it had felt more like stubborn determination not to give in rather than anything personal. This feels personal. Like the raptorcat refuses to bow to a prey-animal, refuses to give into my Will because it is better than that. There’s almost a silent dialogue between us, some sort of metaphysical connection that allows us to communicate in ideas. It’s not words, though I rationalise the ideas as such – I’m not comfortable thinking in images and emotions untethered and undefined by words.

I am an apex predator, it seems to say. I do not bow to prey. Contemptuous.

Clearly you’re not at the apex, or you wouldn’t be dying now, I think back at it, reminding it of the state in which its physical – and metaphysical – body is in.

There are always those stronger. We met our match and have become prey in our turn.

Then why do you resist bowing to me? I will one day be strong enough to kill you all if I choose. I genuinely believe that to be the case. Humanity rose from wielding the sticks and stones of my current weaponry to using bombs which could slaughter millions in a single swoop, and that all without magic. While I don’t anticipate building any nuclear weapons anytime soon, I can see how I have developed already with my stat increases.

Physical activity has become easier, thinking has become clearer, and that’s only with a few points in each stat. What will I become in five levels’ time? Ten? Thirty? I fully anticipate that one day I will reach the point where a raptorcat, regardless of how terrifying an opponent it is now, will become nothing more than a nuisance.

My approach doesn’t seem to have won me any points with my opponent, though, as the raptorcat’s glare intensifies and the pressure pushing against me grows just a little.

The future is undefined. Now, you are weak. Clearly my future progress is not convincing enough. Or maybe it doesn’t believe me. And honestly, it’s right – I have to be alive in those thirty levels’ time in order to benefit from the advancements. But I can’t think like that – convincing myself is half the battle. The other half is convincing the raptorcat.

Given how much trouble this single injured, near-death creature is giving me, I’m glad that I didn’t go through with trying to trap and Dominate a healthy one – I’m pretty sure I’d have failed and then be dead for attempting the audacity.

The raptorcat goes silent and I sense it trying to withdraw mentally even while increasing the pressure. Unfortunately for it, time is not on its side. With every moment that passes, I creep ever-closer, as does death. I start wondering if this intense mental battle will actually hasten its demise and the thought makes me press even more against the pressure resisting me.

Unfortunately, time isn’t on my side either – this kind of battle is exhausting, and I can already feel an uncentralised ache start throbbing. Although time has a strange elastic quality in this world, I’m sure it’s taken longer already than the Battle I had with Spike. I need to try to convince it to let me closer, or at least distract it enough to lessen the pressure. I think over our little ‘conversation’ and suddenly have an idea.