Ginger spent the whole way to the First Year dormitory thinking about the sight of the huge, red dragon he had seen flying overhead. He wished the dragon had flown a little lower so he could see its appearance vividly, but alas, he had seen just enough to keep his mind active, spurring its creativity.

Upon reaching his bed and diving onto it with about as much grace as a whale jutting out and slamming back into the sea, Ginger gave a great sigh of relief. Reiss was yet to return along with many others; they were likely on their way back now though.

Ginger took the chance to enjoy the mostly tranquil presence in the dorm room, yet to be saturated with sniggers, boisterous, borderline manic laughs, and an annoying degree of roughhousing.

The plump dragonling was more than glad for today. The two Strides he had spent locked inside the school had begun to challenge his adventurous nature, and a little exploring, even in a town as small as Proin had quenched some of the thirst building from his adventure bone.

Speaking of his adventures in the town, Ginger took from his sling bag one of the sheets he had been given by Fai; the one detailing the specifics of his Hunt next Breather.

‘I hope it’s as simple as it reads,’ Ginger thought, but then a small smile broke on his face. ‘Maybe not. I wouldn’t really complain if it was a little more challenging. Shunting Shamans, if Ancor heard I was growing soft…’

A small chuckle wrestled its way out of Ginger’s mouth.

He read the sheet of paper again with a bit of difficulty.

His Hunt mainly involved investigating a certain ruin that was located near a small village about forty kilometers from Proin. Apparently, the villagers were convinced that something was nesting in the ruins and there had been three cases of missing individuals in four Strides.

Fai had assured Ginger that whatever it was the villagers were wary of – if they hadn’t invented it themselves, that is – was bound to be a low-class monster at best. Typically, higher-class creatures didn’t shy away from open violence and carnage, nicking one victim at a time. It was also unusual for stronger monsters to nest so close to prey. Blighted, for instance, were territorial. They would not co-exist with weaker creatures.

Given this information, Ginger deemed the Hunt one where he wouldn’t need to exert much of himself as he did during the exercise yesterday.

After reading all the details on the sheet over and over again – as best as his literacy could afford – and running simulations about how exactly he was going to give it to Professor Lyall while balancing that occasion out with the flurry of questions he had for her regarding how she handled the Blighted-killing exercise, Ginger was delighted when he saw Reiss walking into the dorm room, a large, thick bag slung around his shoulder.

The short dragonling was beaming, so much so that Ginger could have sworn he felt the air turn lighter when he, Reiss, reached his bed and dropped his bag – which was quite heavy, as Ginger realized after it made their bunk bed groan.

The dwarfish dragonling, without being given the go-ahead, began to blab excitedly about how his day had gone, using words like ‘brilliant’ and ‘fantastic’.

Halfway through the seemingly unending tale, Ginger began to think that perhaps Reiss’ father was some sort of benevolent deity because not an ounce of negativity carried over from his friend’s mouth when talking about him. When detailing the places he had gone with his father and what they had talked about, which was mainly to do with his work and Reiss’ studies, one would have thought the dwarfish dragonling was reading out a long itinerary.

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“…and then he said I looked thin, haha, and then he said we should get something to eat! We went to this shop, Red Meaties, I think, and he ordered us the largest plate of meat I’ve ever seen. Even you wouldn’t have been able to finish it alone. I thought he was testing me – that he wanted to see if I even still had an appetite, because of school and all. Happens to me a lot, actually. He remembers that bit of me very well,” Reiss said delightedly.

Ginger was a little offended by Reiss’ remark about him and the meat, but not because it hinted towards his respectable gluttony – all of which was mainly inspired by the new dishes to try on Ravi. He was more affected by the fact that Reiss had helped himself to the succulent meats Ginger had been tempted to buy hours ago, only to resist in the name of saving money.

‘Maybe I should have gone with Reiss, after all…’

Ginger’s growing sullenness was cured when he found, to his delight that Reiss had brought him some of the delectable delights he and his father had bought from the confectionaries Ginger had also chosen to bravely ignore. The plump dragonling nearly leaped in joy and joined Reiss in beaming almost too brilliantly.

The rolls of soft bread with warm, creamy sweetness oozing from their cores, icing-coated cakes, and many other goodies tore Ginger away from his concerns. He found the motivation to listen more attentively to Reiss’ tales.

“I told my father about you, you know? He looked pretty happy that I had already made a friend. Good grief, what does he take me for? I told him you’d appreciate it if he bought you half of a store’s worth of sweets,” the small dragonling said and the two boys burst into laughter, their lighter-than-normal air battling against the growing noise around them.

Soon, it was Ginger’s turn to spell what he had been doing. Reiss was stunned after hearing it all and seeing the evidence.

“Stalwart Stallions? Stalwart Stallions?!” he said in disbelief, Ginger’s registration sheet in his hands.

Ginger covered his face in shame.

“I know,” he said with a wince.

“Quite a name. Why didn’t you just tell me you were going to register for a Hunting Limb?” Reiss asked.

“Well, I didn’t know if it was going to work out. I wasn’t sure I wanted to join that particular one… even though I did in the end,” Ginger replied.

Reiss nodded as he read through the two sheets of paper.

“Well, other than the name, I guess they do seem alright. I’m surprised you’re already going on a Hunt though,” he said, and Ginger thought there was a subtle, bitterness in his voice.

“It’s supposed to be a simple one,” he said quickly. “You could join and then we can go on another Hunt together.”

Reiss shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I’m ready to be doing this just yet. My performance yesterday didn’t give me much confidence. I think I need to harness every bit of skill in using my hammer that I can before anything else like this. I prefer to prepare thoroughly. And I certainly don’t mind you going ahead of me for a bit,” he said with a smile to Ginger.

Ginger immediately knew that the dwarfish dragonling had read his thoughts. Reiss wasn’t upset by Ginger’s choices as he, Ginger had begun to assume.

Following the feast, Reiss exposed the rest of the items in his heavy bag, the culprits behind its malign weight. Of course, the answer was as obvious as it was boring.

Books. Thick books.

Ginger was stunned by the dignity (weight) on them, as well as their titles which made them seem more like they were from a couple of eras before now.

There was Flying with the Night Kites; Hindhigger’s Forty Measures of Distributing Weights; Records of the Thirtieth Cycle and several more.

Reiss proposed that Ginger take one of the books, read it, and then they could share what they had read afterward, but the plump dragonling respectfully declined, muttering something about being legitimately illiterate on this side of the world.

The next day didn’t give Ginger much of an incentive to go out into Proin again to enjoy the last day of his Breather. He spent it with Reiss, catching up on homework and getting some much-needed rest before the start of the Stride. Since no foreseeable events were coming up this Stride, unlike the last, it was reasonable to assume that the atrocious learning hours were going to become even more severe.

The only thing that salvaged how harsh it all could be was that Ginger, along with all the other First Years were now awakened through their refined Kardia. They were stronger and more resilient. Then again, perhaps this wasn’t such a good thing; having high tolerance had its benefits in the wrong direction.

Yet still, by the time the new Breather began, all the First Years were refreshed and renewed.