Now I’m not sure how long is typical to be nourished by a mother, but I felt that my time was incredibly short. I was relieved, since frankly the entire thing felt very unnatural given my current mental situation, but the replacement scraps of raw meat, berries, and roots barely qualified in my mind as edible food.

When it came to my status screen, little had changed that was worth noting. The age no longer was blank, now reading five years. Additionally, my statistic values had increased a handful of points in each, aside from my Magic. It hadn’t increased at all. I was quite frustrated by this since I had no idea how to raise it. I didn’t know why, with my past being sealed away, but I knew I had never wielded magic before.

It was spring now, and my primitive tribe of humans was on the move. We were following a herd of creatures that I could only describe as a hybrid of a bison and a giraffe. They had large bodies with thick fur, but had elongated necks to reach into the trees to feed on leaves. Their size was large enough that downing one fed our little tribe for a week, though I avoided the meat after the first day because of spoilage. It probably was why I was weak compared to the other couple of kids close to my age. I really didn’t want to consider how many parasites I likely had from this lifestyle.

Looking at my situation, I was like the runt of the litter. Though perhaps you could loosely consider us a family, and I only knew which one was my mother, everything was a competition and revolved around a hierarchy of strength. I lost a lot and it showed. Today, I was lagging behind the tribe as we walked on. Fortunately, we had stopped alongside a river at around midday.

The water was clear and deep, making it quite picturesque to stare into. I could see a number of fish darting around on the riverbed. As I started to consider how tasty one of them might be if I cooked the thing, I felt the impact on my back that sent me flying into the river. My scream of pain was nearly instantly drowned out by the flood of water that rushed towards my lungs. In desperation I clawed at the water to try and drag myself to the surface. Water though, has no solid purchase when in liquid form.

I continued to struggle for what felt like minutes, though it was perhaps only a few seconds. Lungs burning, I spat out what water I could when I broke the surface. I continued to gasp as I sputtered disorientedly. The pain of being slammed into a rock in the middle of the river sent me under again. Spinning in a series of rapids, I bounced off one rock after another until I lost consciousness. My last thought was of the disappointment of dying so easily.

I’m not sure how I survived after that, but when consciousness did return to me I found myself alone on the riverbank. Nothing looked familiar to the observations I’d tried to make over the last several years. I had little strength and no energy to even move. I was cold, wet, and it felt like every part of my body was broken. A pathetic wiggle of my fingers and toes though proved that I wasn’t paralyzed at least. I knew that it was a terrible idea, and I was probably going to die, but I couldn’t resist the drowsiness that swept over me. For the second time that day, I blacked out,

Surprisingly, the morning sun woke me from sleep. Somehow, I was not dead, yet. Dragging myself to my feet, I did my best to scrub the caked-on sand and dirt from my skin. As my stomach growled, I became aware of how hungry I was. The idea of fish at the moment was off putting, so I turned to the tree line. Fortune favored me for once, as there were a number of wild berry bushes right there. These particular ones were a purple color, but looked and tasted like strawberries. I had eaten these purple strawberries before, so knowing they were safe to eat I pounced on them.

Once my stomach felt ready to burst, I took a look around. There was still no sign of my tribe, so I guessed that the river must have dragged me pretty far away with its current. There was safety in numbers, but given that I had been attacked by one of my ‘family,’ being on my own might be an advantage now. Or not, since I’m still only five years old. While I was still generally unfamiliar with this world, I’d learned that creatures and monsters existed that could kill me. Some even seemed to hunt humans. I had no weapon to defend myself with, but knew that might be the most critical thing for me now.

I found the sharpest looking rock nearby that was feasible to still hold. The thing was not even the length of my hand and barely had a single edge. I still took it and went in search of a sturdy looking tree branch. Finding one, I used my dull rock to cut through the branch slowly but surely. It ended up taking most of the day to cut through and then strip the excess twigs from the branch. A lot of angled strokes later, I had a spear.

“You have acquired the Crafter Class.”

I hadn’t bothered to look at my screen since finding myself in my new circumstances. I did now out of curiosity. There were a few changes. My statistic values had gone up a few points again, but I guessed that brushes with death were situations that supported that. The biggest changes though were in the Class and Skills sections.

I now had the Crafter Class at Level 1. It was the only class I had aside from Catalyst, and it had an actual level value. I focused on it, which brought up additional details.

Crafter Class

Obtained by Crafting an Item.

Grants the Crafting Skill. Increases success at crafting items. Specializations available at Level 10.

That was pretty straightforward. I wondered what the specializations were. Perhaps something like blacksmith or carpenter or tailor. But my attention shifted to the Crafting Skill.

Crafting

Obtained from the Crafter Class.

Grants knowledge about raw materials and crafting processes. Skill increases by crafting items.

Ah ha! A guide on how to do something! I looked at the rock I had been utilizing, focusing on my Crafting skill.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Stone (Small)

Forging Capacity: Low

Density: Moderate

It was something, though the usefulness was questionable. I know there are different types of stone for example, but just looking at them I can’t differentiate between the rock in my hand and the myriad of other rocks around me, if they aren’t the same type. Does my knowledge impact the Skill’s effectiveness? I looked at the rock again with a focus on my Crafting skill, but it only gave the same result.

Turning my attention back to my status screen, I noted that I had another skill listed in the Skills section: Survival.

Survival

Obtained from Foraging.

Grants knowledge about edible plants and animals, enhances Statistic Value gains in Wild Territory. Skill increases passively in Wild Territory.

Alright. This one at least was mostly straightforward. Statistic Value gains were obviously useful and knowing what plants or animals were safe to eat was beneficial given my newfound independence. While the term Wild Territory was strange, I could guess that it was probably something like saying the wilderness. A passive leveling was valuable, since it meant I didn’t even need to focus on it.

I was satisfied for the moment. It had been five confusing years, but I finally had some security provided by these skills. I could focus on figuring out what these Skills and Classes meant for me.

The snapping of a twig nearby broke me out of my introspective analysis of my screen and situation. I turned towards the source of the sound, letting out a groan of disappointment as I saw the creature. I had yet to see one this close, but had seen these menacing things in the distance while I had been with my little tribe. Seeing one stare me down now was… frightening to say the least. My Survival Skill kicked in, identifying it as a Twin-Tailed Saberwolf.

It’s name pretty accurately described the beast. It was about the size of a bear though, so much larger than I was under the impression a wolf should be. This one was a gray-white color. The two massive canines that jutted from it’s open mouth as it snarled at me were stained slightly yellow with streaks of red. The twin tails behind it currently had their fur puffed out to make them seem larger and were held in a V pose. All in all, this thing was a mass of muscle, teeth, and claws that was going to probably kill me right here.

As my brain fired every neuron telling me that I should run, I simultaneously knew that doing so was pointless. I felt like I was watching in slow motion as the saberwolf leapt at me. My hands moved my improvised spear to point at the creature as I ducked to avoid it’s maw. There was a lot of pain that followed.

At first, I shut my eyes as I screamed in pain. However, the pain I felt wasn’t what I was expecting. It felt more like being crushed than being ripped apart. With all my measly strength, I pushed at the weight on top of me. The now dead saberwolf flopped onto the ground next to me. It seemed that I had gotten extremely lucky, as my improvised spear had pierced through the base of the wolf’s neck into its chest. The weight of the beast had snapped the branch spear in two, which seemed to have driven the impalement deeper.

“You have acquired the Fighter Class.”

Thanks for that. Could’ve used that before really. I checked what it did.

Fighter Class

Obtained by Fighting an Enemy or Opponent

Grants the Critical Skill. Grants increased proficiency with weapons and Statistic Value gains based on weapons used. Specializations available at Level 10.

Critical

Obtained from the Fighter Class or Butcher Class

Enables easier striking of weak points of enemies, opponents, and targets. Skill increases with usage of Classes that grant skill.

So that told me there was a Butcher Class too, which I had a feeling I knew how to obtain. If I took the pelt of this wolf and made it last somehow, I might not even need to worry about the future winter. I had dropped my previous rock, so I searched for a new one that seemed to have a somewhat sharp edge.

As the sun set several hours later, I stood satisfied with my work. I now wore a wolfskin cloak and pants, my first real clothing aside from a loincloth I’d fashioned when I first could a couple years ago now. I also had a bandolier style belt, which I had strapped the two saberwolf-tooth daggers I’d rigged together to for easy access. An improvised backpack was stuffed with several wolf steaks I’d carved off, a thoroughly washed section of intestine, and a bunch of the purple strawberries that I’d gathered. Suffice to say, I’d gained the Butcher Class, increased my Crafter Class to Level 2, and seen my Survival, Crafting, and Critical skills also increase.

The moon was bright tonight, and I considered simply camping there on the riverbank. However, the corpse nearby dissuaded me. It occurred to me that the saberwolf must have a den or something nearby, so I tried backtracking from the direction it had come. It would probably be a safe place to hunker down for at least the night. Saberwolves were dangerous, but mostly loner types, so other creatures would avoid them if possible. My nonexistent leatherworking skills also meant that I still smelled a lot like the wolf with my clothing, belt, and pack.

Being a large creature, it wasn’t too difficult to guess the paths that the saberwolf took through the forest. I eventually found a hovel at the base of a large tree that looked like it had been dug out. Peering down into it, I felt a great sadness grip my heart. Staring back at me were two twin-tailed saberwolf pups. I had killed their mother.

For the first time all day, that thought provoked the thought of my own mother. Had she panicked as I fell into the river? Did she try and save me? Did she feel bad about any of what happened? If I was honest with myself, the answer to all of those questions was probably no. I wasn’t sure, but if my tribe was primitive humans they didn’t seem to possess strong emotional ties to others. I mean, my mother did help me scrape by when it came to food, but she had been progressively decreasing her role there too.

Thinking that these pups were likely hungry, I started reaching into my improvised pack. I quickly stopped, realizing what I was about to do, and let go of the steaks. The two kept their distance from me, which was interesting to see these wolves that each probably weighed as much as I did cowering from me. I felt bad, but climbed into the hovel. Taking a spot across from these pups, I settled down as best I could. With a hand on a tooth dagger, the exhaustion of the day hit and I drifted to sleep instantly.

I woke the next morning but didn’t move. The pressure on my legs and the fur in my face told me that the pups had come and snuggled up to me. I guess I did smell like their mother to an extent. The one that was on my legs must have sensed my arousal, as it got off rather quickly. I rolled onto my back and glanced at it. It simply stared back.

“I have no food for you. I’m sorry,” I said.

My speech caused the other pup to stir, so now both were staring. I slowly sat up so as not to startle them further, but both were seemingly unfazed. I cautiously reached out so as to try and pet the nearest one, causing it to sniff at my hand in curiosity. I froze as I let it do its thing. After a moment, I slowly moved my hand closer and started petting the wolf pup. A content sounding groan rumbled out as it accepted the affection. This seemed to spark a little bit of jealousy with the other, who darted over and practically begged to be pet as well. So I sat there for several minutes, simply petting these two saberwolf pups.

“You have acquired the Tamer Class.”