I step carefully through the leaf litter in front of the gaping hole. My knife and mace are both in my hands and I’m tense, ready for another monster to come leaping out. Casting a glance around, I frown as I try to piece together what had happened in the instant before the spider-insect attacked.

Despite my increased Intelligence, the whole thing happened so quickly that my memory of the time isn’t at all clear, but there are several clues in the detritus around me. I focus on my memory of the image of the area before I stepped into the trap and compare it to now. Before, the whole area had been an undulating carpet of dead, brown leaves and twigs. Now, there’s a gaping hole in the centre of the area. Had the spider-monster held a layer of twigs and leaves as a camouflaging screen? It must have – I don’t see any other explanation for the changes in environment present here.

I know that there are insects and spiders on Earth that can also set traps, so I suppose it’s not out of the realms of possibility that a creature here would develop the same techniques. Maybe spiders or spider-analogues are just always the kind of bastards that would go down the route of being ambushers and therefore learn useful tricks to improve their success rate?

Well, this trap has been sprung, and hopefully there aren’t a whole load of other hidden spider-monsters around ready to jump out at me. Frankly, I would have been easy-pickings while lying there unconscious and with only two units of health left, so if they didn’t attack me then, I have to guess that they weren’t aware of my presence. As long as I don’t spring any more traps, I’m cautiously hopeful that I’ll leave this area with my life.

Inspection of the area done, I creep closer to the yawning hole in front of me. It’s angled down into the ground reasonably steeply. Not so steeply that I couldn’t get out, but it’s steep enough that I’d have to use my hands to help me crawl out. For the monster I killed with its six insectile legs, I doubt it was any trouble. Pausing at the edge of where it becomes the hole proper, I take a moment to find out what my senses are telling me, and allow my eyes to adjust a little.

It’s dark, obviously. The light from the outside illuminates the first few feet of the cave, but not much further thanks to the angle of both the entrance hole and the way it descends. It’s earthen, almost as tall as I am, and wide enough for the creature to easily move around. There’s little to see, honestly. However, what does catch my attention, is that there’s a breeze.

Not a breeze that sweeps the surface, although that’s there as well, but a breeze that’s actively being pulled into the cave. To me, that indicates that the cave isn’t actually a cave, but a tunnel. That’s interesting simply for the question that it poses: if it’s a tunnel, where does it go?

Hopefully not to a colony of these spider-monster things. I shudder at the thought. It’s a question which is almost impossible to resist, beckoning me to climb down the slope and find out. I almost give into its siren call, actually sitting down on the edge and preparing to bum-shuffle my way down into the depths.

Then my senses return and I wonder why exactly I thought that could ever be a good idea. I’m not equipped for spelunking. Yes, I have a rope – sort of – but I don’t have a source of light, decent weaponry, or decent armour against whatever could be hiding in the darkness. Plus, my aim in coming out for today was to gather wood, not go exploring a mysterious cave. I’ve already cursed at myself once today for being an idiot; no need to keep on proving it.

With regret, I push myself to my feet. Cave-diving will have to wait for another day when I’m better prepared. Bringing Bastet with me would probably be a good idea too since her eyesight is likely to be much better in the dark than mine. And hopefully exploring a cave should not pose too much risk to the cubs. Of course, it depends on what we encounter, but with the restricted area of a tunnel, I’d imagine it will be easier for Bastet and I to create a defensive line with them behind us and back out of any trouble.

I do take advantage of my time to collect as much firewood as possible, since this kind of wood is perfect for what I need – seasoned and mostly dry. I actually find a few bits of wood which should serve well as arrowshafts too: since they’re already dry, they shouldn’t warp like green wood can. I even explore the rest of the clearing, half-hoping, half-fearing for a rematch against another of the monsters.

In the end, though, it seems like the one I fought was solitary as there aren’t any more that leap out at me even as I traverse the rest of the copse of dead trees. Just before leaving the area, I mark the cave on my map for later exploration. I have to hope that nothing too dangerous moves into the open real-estate, but there’s not much I can do about that now.

By the time the sun is halfway in heading towards the horizon, I’ve filled four of the five slots that remained open after storing the body and head of the spider-monster in one of them. I figure I’ve got enough firewood to be getting on with, so I start making my way back to my home base.

Deciding to do a bit of grinding, I use my Stealth as much as possible, and then when my stamina is getting low, I pause and use Fade until I’ve topped myself up. I feel that the two Skills have become easier to use during my practice, and reckon I must have gained some Skill levels. Tempted to check, I instead decide to save all that until tonight.

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I make my way through the forest almost without incident. In fact, I only end up in two fights, which is an achievement considering I managed to stray into a part of a forest which looked to be hotly contested territory between two rival factions of the same species. How do I know? Lots and lots of markings all over the trees, the acrid stench of urine in multiple places, the half-eaten bodies which I almost stumbled over...and the full-scale battle I barely avoided.

The creatures were a weird reptile version of weasels or something. Similar to the things which attacked me in my first days in this world, but sleeker and meaner, if that’s possible. They were small, only about as long as my hand, but seriously vicious. Half-hiding behind a tree in Fade, I watched a group of about fifteen tumble together near my feet, tearing chunks off each other, claws gouging into flesh, uncaring of the damage they left. They were ferocious. Frankly, I feel lucky that Fade was enough to keep me concealed because the frenzied fury these creatures displayed reminded me of nothing less than a pack of piranhas.

Fortunately, they were so distracted by each other that the weatiles just kept tearing each other apart, paying no attention to the human hiding wide-eyed in concealment within arm’s length of them. One pair tearing at each other in a bloody ball actually tumbled straight over my foot but didn’t care enough to break away from their fight to find out what it was they rolled over. Slowly, trying not to draw any attention to myself, I shifted backwards until I was as out of the way as possible – I’d figured that there was no point in chancing my luck a second time. By the time the two weatiles had finished with their fight, one was dead and the other didn’t look far from it.

Of the fifteen that were fighting at the start, only three survived. Only pausing to mark their territory, they’d promptly run out back into one of the bushes surrounding us, and disappeared with nary a rustle. Silence having fallen around me, not even the birds daring to give voice to the violence they had just seen, I stared at the limp bodies newly decorating the small area clear of undergrowth at the foot of the tree where I’d been hiding.

The sheer scale of that violence is not something I’ve seen in this world so far. Why were so many fighting? Food? Territory? Mates? Some other reason? I don’t know, but the fact that the survivors didn’t even eat any of the corpses indicates it isn’t to do with food. Or maybe they’re just not cannibals.

Then again, I’ve long wondered what motivates some of the creatures in this world: the number of times I’ve been attacked by creatures that were clearly out-classed is surprising. I’d have thought self-preservation would have stopped creatures which clearly would only ever win on the off-chance from attacking me. Even if I don’t have the natural weapons of my enemies, I’ve almost always been bigger, sometimes significantly, and size does matter in a fight. A smaller opponent always needs to have strong advantages to win against a bigger opponent when the size difference is as stark as it sometimes has been in my fights.

Even with these weatiles, I avoided the fight because I’m not a masochist – evidence to the contrary notwithstanding – and I was pretty sure that any fight with them would end up with me bitten all over and bloody. That’s not to say that I don’t think I would have been the survivor: for all their ferocity, if their teeth are only digging in a few centimetres, and my knife is piercing their whole bodies, there’s an obvious advantage in my favour. Still, I’d already had one difficult battle before my encounter with them, so I did my utmost to avoid another unnecessary confrontation. Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed in avoiding all confrontations.

One of the fights I was in actually happened once I came out of Fade – some creature from above took advantage of the opportunity to jump at my neck from the branches over my head. That didn’t end very well for it as by this point in time, my senses are constantly on high alert and my muscles are ready for action at any moment – I wouldn’t have survived the spider-monstrosity if they hadn’t been. I grabbed and stabbed my newest attacker. Relying entirely on surprise and the venomous fangs that it never managed to bury into my flesh, the arm-length lizard didn’t stand a chance – the tyranny of size once more proven.

Neither did my other attacker fare very well when it attempted to charge me after I disrupted it eating. The creature looked a little like a triceratops only about the size of a small rhino, and with a single horn. For once, I was actually outclassed in terms of size. Not in weapons, though, and I had a bit of luck. It had a fast charge, but I managed to dodge and when it hit the tree behind me, it managed to stun itself. A few stabs into its body and a chance strike to its heart later, and another one bit the dust. I filled my last slot with its corpse, wondering if the bone protrusion that protected the top of its neck might come in handy later.

One interesting thing I found out from the second encounter was a feature of Fade: I couldn’t use it if my target was fixated on me – I’d tried to activate it as soon as the mini-triceratops saw me, but no luck. It makes me wonder whether I’d have been able to activate the Skill if I’d broken its line of sight, but too late now to test.

By the time I get back home, the sun is almost touching the horizon. I’m tired and want nothing more than to go straight to bed. Before I can do that, though, I need to get rid of all the blood and muck that’s ended up on me. Or at least, do what I can to clean up. The river water isn’t great for cleaning, but it does something, and I sigh as my hair finally loses that matted feel. It’s wet and drips down my neck, but that will dry soon enough. I take the opportunity to fill the water containers in my Inventory – I’ve been thirsty since I finished my canteen earlier.

Walking up the hill, anticipation wars with trepidation. What if something went wrong while I was out? What if Trouble lived up to his name and got too close to the burning embers of my fire? What if a giant bird came along and snatched one of the cubs before either of the adults could do anything about it? Unlikely, perhaps, but considering the size of the bird that attacked me on my first day here, I’m not putting anything past this world.

Bastet and the cubs aren’t outside. Telling myself that doesn’t mean anything, I step into the cave. Pausing at the entrance, I can’t help but smile as I see the sight inside. From what I can make out by counting heads and paws, all three of the raptorcats are snuggled against Lathani who is in turn snuggled into the fluffy tail of her mother. Kalanthia is lying down with her head on her paws, the half-circle of her body meaning she’s looking towards the cub pile with half-open eyes. I notice Bastet last, although she’s actually the closest, lying just inside the entrance as a guard. She sends waves of contentment and reassurance at me.

Maybe I didn’t need to worry after all.