Pel panicked. Old, slumbering Human instincts reared their head in his moment of crisis, throwing everything he’d learned in the last three days completely out the window. He didn’t even have the Stamina to flail against the cold water pulling him deeper into the current. He choked, water burning his throat before he closed his mouth against the stream. He was confused, scared, and thinking so many things at once that his mind gridlocked for several eternal moments. I don’t need air! Calm down! Mote, gotta Mote!

Pel tried activating his Mote skill, but it wouldn’t take hold. He looked at his Party interface again in desperation as he tumbled like a twig through the dark, rapid waters; his Stamina was still 0. Mote doesn’t cost any resources! Why won’t it activate? A speculative thought just as chilling as the water swept through his mind. Don’t tell me it needs at least some amount of Stamina in my pool!?

He was rapidly dragged further down the river, no strength to swim upward or turn into a mote and fly away. One minute stretched longer than Pel could believe as he desperately waited for his Stamina to regenerate. I hate that resource pools only tick upward once every regen period! Why don’t they refill incrementally every second? This is bullshit!

There was a sudden empty spot in Pel’s mind. Something he’d always felt but never noticed until now that it was absent. He felt alone, and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t since that first night in The Mother Tree. Tumbling through the water was now scarier, the darkness was deeper, the cold more biting, and the disorientation of not knowing up from down was more confusing. At first, he attributed the sensation to not breathing for the first time in either life, but it ran deeper than simple discomfort.

Finally, a minute ticked over and Pel regenerated 0.82 Stamina, his arms and legs jerked, regaining strength and no longer flopping like string in washing machine. Pretty sure I punched myself in the face at least once. He immediately turned into a mote and started flying, not knowing if he was going up or down; simply cutting perpendicularly to the flow of the river. He chose wrong, the light of his mote illuminated sand and rocks as if they were bigger rocks and boulders as he reached the bed of the river.

Cursing mentally, he reversed his direction and flew upward. And upward. How fucking deep is this thing? Fighting through the water, and against the current it took ten seconds to break the surface. He wanted to revert back to normal and take a nice, deep, unnecessary breath but his Stamina was still less than the cost to activate his wings. Instead, he continued flying upward into the branches above the river, landing under a clump of leaves to wait for his Stamina to regenerate.

Pel turned back into his full-bodied form, clothes sopping wet as he took a deep breath of fresh air. I know I don’t need it, but it feels good. He peeked through the leaves, searching for anything scary looking before taking his clothes off. He wrung them out and hung them from the stems of the nearby leaves he was hiding under to dry some more. I still wanna know what happens to my clothes when I turn into a mote. Where do they go?

Pel sat down on the branch, and glanced over to his Party interface. Everyone’s info is greyed out…what does that mean? He thought about all his exercises from the past few days and couldn’t recall anyone ever saying what it meant. Am I out of range? Is there a range to being in a Party? The river was moving pretty fast, but how far was I swept away? His strange ability to count didn’t seem to apply to distance like it did to things or time.

He could still feel that emptiness, sitting in the back of his head like a piece was missing. He shivered, cold, damp, and feeling strange. He wasn’t sure if it was the water that cleared his mind or what, but he felt more alert. It was like having that first cup of coffee in the morning and really, fully, being awake. Or realizing that you’ve already arrived at your destination after going on auto-pilot after a drive. Some piece was missing, but its absence brought clarity.

He glanced down, past the river and toward the shore. The space between the trees was cluttered with brambles, bushes, and small dead trees that never grew up in the ever-present shade of the forest. Everywhere he’d been so far had looked practically manicured compared to this. Am I beyond the range of The Mother Tree?

The more he pondered that thought, the surer he was of it. That’s the feeling I’m missing! I crossed the boundary while I was being swept away. That’s why the ground isn’t clean and tidy. He focused on the river again, from the low branch he was sitting on he was sure the river appeared closer than when he dive-bombed toward the Lantern Lilies. Even the trees are smaller.

A light mist was floating up from the river on cool air. I’ll never get dry like this; I need to move. Pel picked up his clothes, and flew past the river bank into drier air. With the sun almost set, the darkness moving in was almost oppressive; he was beyond the safe zone, some place the Protectors hadn’t cleared in who knew how long. He wasn’t sure if being higher or lower in the trees would be safer, so he picked a branch in the middle. I can still kinda see though, even in the darkness.

There wasn’t even enough light to trigger his [Star Touched] passive. Can Fairies see in the dark? Compared to outside, The Mother Tree was pretty dark despite the motes always floating around. Even The Roots was only lit up by the mushrooms and moss. The distant sound of the river 100 meters away was the only sound Pel could hear in the forest. There were no insect sounds, no bird calls, just the deepening darkness and static of water.

And the shouting. Shouting? Pel’s ears perked up, his head turned back and forth trying to pick it up again. Are the Protectors looking for me? He stood up on the branch and cupped his ears. Another shout echoed through the tree trunks, distant and indistinct; barely audible over the river. Where is it coming from? He’d been gone no more than ten minutes, his Party interface was still greyed out, but everyone’s Stamina had regenerated a little bit by now. Still close enough for updates, then.

Pel reluctantly donned his damp clothes, hesitant to leave them alone in the forest lest Clover hear about it. He listened again for several moments, a high-pitched sound like ringing came faintly from the right, further away from the river. He turned into a dim, ember of a mote and drifted that direction through the leaves. I should go back. Back to The Mother Tree. The Mother Tree is safe. This is stupid.

The urge he felt to return grew the more he flew away, but it felt so strange that he had to stop mid-flight. He examined that feeling, the empty alertness and the urge to return. Logically he understood that The Mother Tree was the safest place for any Fairy, that the desire to go back was sound. That he should go back. Out here was dangerous; it wasn’t safe. But the way he felt those things reminded him of Tina’s Skill; the first Skill he ever saw. It had calmed his mind, made him feel like things were ok. If he went back now, everything would be ok.

Pel changed direction, and drifted back toward the river. If I follow the river back upstream, I can make it back to the safe zone. He stopped flying again. But do I want to feel like everything is going to be ok? Because it fucking isn’t. I lost my family, and I was slowly growing ok with that. I didn’t even try to stop it; I could have written down everything I could remember about them but I didn’t. I even went to that art building, the lady there had paper and ink, I could have asked for some. Why didn’t I ask for some? Pel’s mind was churning now. The clarity of that hole in his mind causing thoughts to pop up rapidly.

Where did Ri go after the attack in The Roots? Mat and Liki were practically back to normal by the time they were taken to the Level 10 and up group with Gale. Why didn’t I question Ty’s shitty Voidstone training? Why didn’t I ask Ky for help? If Mother Trees give birth to any kind of Fairy, and are only predisposed toward certain types like Ino told us, are there never any ‘Evil Fairy’ types anymore?

Pel was suddenly not quite so ready to go back to The Mother Tree. What if The Mother Tree is like some kind of Fairy catnip or something? Hippy hypnotism? He couldn’t discount the idea that simply being within the boundary of The Mother Tree’s power was doing something to them. To Him.

But Protectors leave and came back, they seemed fine. But he was different, wasn’t he? Pel remembered his past, even if some of it was now lost. What would it be like to truly have been born cleanly as Fairy? He had noticed that some things others seemed to know ‘just because’ were things he needed to ask about. Are my old memories taking up the space my racial memories should occupy? Pel didn’t know enough about brains, and memories, and body stuff to even begin to theorize how that would work.

He was still hovering in the air uncertainly when he heard another sound, even more faint than before. Something is definitely out there. He had to make a choice; follow the urge to return to The Mother Tree, or follow the spooky sounds in the dark forest. Pel struggled. On one hand he liked the Fairies and The Mother Tree, and being kept mostly safe from danger was nice. On the other hand, he was starting to think those feelings weren’t quite as real as they should be. I believe Tina truly loves us all, and The Mother Tree is a good place. But it’s also wrong. Something about it is wrong.

Pel wanted to learn more. More about Fairies, more about the world, more about the magic that most Fairies seemed not to care about. Will I learn about these from the library? What if I go back and all these questions don’t matter anymore? For the first time in a week, he felt like he was really starting to think for himself. He had no drive, no purpose in The Mother Tree; just an indistinct feeling telling him he needed to be stronger so he could protect his family and his home.

Pel changed directions again, heading slowly away from the river and toward the unknown sounds. I want to know more. I need to be more. He felt, in that moment, that if he returned right away, he’d lose something. He couldn’t figure out quite what it was, but searching his feelings, he knew it to be true. Pel resolved himself to at least figure out what the sound was. Maybe it’s a threat the Protectors need to know about. I can see what it is, and tell them about it. I can at least do this completely on my own and know it’s not because some plant is telling me to.

He landed on the branch he started from, reverting back to his full form. Pel’s hearing and sight were better this way, being a mote stretched things out strangely and this way his ears could catch more sound. More, right? He turned back into a mote for safety and departed, twisting through branches across several more trees before landing again. He paused to listen in the darkness. Another ringing sound and a distant voice reverberated through the branches.

Pel took off once more, dodging leaves and flying further from the river. He repeatedly stopped to listen before changing his course slightly every time. The further he went, the clearer the sounds became. The ringing sound was definitely metal on metal, and the shouting was a mix of voices and the occasional roar of some beast. Pel’s nonexistent heart picked up speed, realizing that the more he flew the more danger he was approaching. Despite that, it felt good to be making a decision that was, probably mostly, one he chose for himself; even if it meant returning to The Mother Tree to tell someone about it.

A pale orange glow scattered light through the tree trunks ahead of him, casting flickering shadows through the branches that almost seemed to dance across the canopy. Pel slowed behind a tree as he reached the final approach to the sounds of battle, finding a place in the leaves above the light to peek down safely. Hovering up behind a leaf he peered around the edge, like peeking around the corner of a building, down into a small open clearing in the trees.

The browns and reds of the tree trunks surrounding the area were illuminated by two torches; one cast to the ground still fitfully burning away in the dirt while the second was held by a Human man with a rather short looking staff clutched in one hand. Two other men stood revealed in the light, all three forming a haggard semicircle around a wounded, pissed off looking panther. Pel had a good look at the entire situation from this side of the engagement.

Humans! Are these the monster hunters that Cho was talking about? The panther looked nearly pitch black, except for some large splotches that were so much blacker they looked like voids in space. As Pel watched, those spots seemed to move around, but he couldn’t tell if they really were moving or if it was because of the flickering light. It’s big enough to be a monster, I guess. Then again, everything looks big enough to be a monster to me. Even crouched low to the ground its shoulders were easily up the men’s waists; and they were practically giants! Several long cuts were glistening along its front legs and on its right shoulder. A broken arrow was sticking out of its side, which it was hiding behind itself as it angled away from the men.

The man carrying a short bow, Bowman, thought Pel, shouted something Pel couldn’t understand before moving further toward the wounded side of the panther. It turned to look at Bowman, and growled with such a deep bass that it shook the leaves and sounded like it had eaten the drop from a dubstep track. The man stepped briefly past the torch on the ground, casting a shadow against the panther that made it disappear from Pel’s sight, flickering back into view as the light touched it again.

Another sharp ringing sound, like the one he followed to the clearing, came from a man holding a shield and short sword. Shieldy. He struck the pommel of his sword against the metal band encircling the edge around his wooden shield, producing a directed and visible shockwave through the air toward the large panther five meters away. It was backed against two large trees which were growing so closely together that there was nowhere for it to run.

As the wave struck the panther, it flinched, tearing its eyes away from the moving threat and toward the shielded man with a hateful intensity that made Pel’s mote shiver. The third man holding the torch and small staff took slower steps than the bow user, carefully sliding over. Gotta be Staffer, Pel thought, giving nicknames to all the Humans in the clearing. He held the staff at like a line between himself and the panther, bringing it to his lips. Ah, it’s a really big blowgun! Gunner? Blowy? The man puffed his cheeks out hard as he blew into the gun and a swift green blur sped into the side of the large panther at the same time as Bowman stuck his arrow into one of the numerous pouches tied to his leather belt. Nah, Blowhard. Totally fits.

The panther flinched again, turning toward Blowhard, prompting another ringing shockwave from Shieldy to regain its attention. Pel could see its reluctance as it fought not to look away, seeming to struggle against turning its head. Bowman nocked and fired his arrow, the shot landing deeply into the panther’s side next to the already present broken arrow. The panther turned quickly, biting at the arrow and snapping it off at the same time as Shieldy shouted another word and charged. Instantly the panther turned, lowered its head, crouched, and then jumped at the incoming man. It was soaring through the air by the time Pel caught up with the actions.

Shieldy stepped to the left, angling his shield across himself to deflect the angry cat as he raised his sword behind. The panther swiped out with its right paw; gleaming silver claws extended menacingly to put new gashes in the already beaten shield. The impact against his shield was more than Shieldy anticipated, causing his killing blow to go high, but still severing the very tip of the panther’s tail as it went by. It yowled loudly, rolling on the ground and flicking its tail rapidly around behind, sending streaks of blood to spatter against the trees.

Before it could recover, another dart struck it in the shoulder. Shieldy steadied his feet and shouted another word, causing his shield to glow faintly orange before he took off like a rocket. The panther looked up just in time to take the shield right to the face, with all the weight of the man behind, crunching it into a tree at the edge of the clearing. Shieldy landed on his feet and dodged back quickly to create space. The panther crumpled into a heap in front of the tree, unmoving.

The other two men rushed across the small clearing to stand beside their Party member, all waiting soundlessly as they stared at the cat. Pel lowered himself from the leaves to a lower branch to get a better look. Looks pretty dead to me. It didn’t appear to be breathing. They ought to double tap it, just to be sure. As if reading his mind, Shieldy walked forward cautiously, lined his sword up, and jammed it into the panther’s skull through its ear. Ugh, like a crunchy melon, Pel grimaced.

With that, the men visibly relaxed. Blowhard slid his blowgun into a tube across his back, then cradled his arm; the adrenaline of battle worn off and no longer able to ignore his own wounds. The bowman said something and the other two laughed. Damn, really wish I knew what they were saying. Slinging the bow over his head and under one arm with the string across his chest, Bowman walked toward the torch on the ground under Pel to retrieve it.

Pel realized right away that he was no longer as hidden as before, having moved out from the leaves to get a better look at the conclusion of the fight. He froze, holding completely still and praying that nobody looked up. Maybe the light from the torch will mask my own, Pel hoped. As the man neared the torch, Pel felt his Presence brush against his own but the man didn’t react. Can Humans not feel that? I completely forgot about Presence, that would have been a dead giveaway!

The Human felt completely different than a Fairy to his Presence sense. Instead of a unique impression of his Mana, it was more…what he was. Bowman felt pointy, like the way a fast-moving object looks elongated to a point rather than a feeling of sharpness. It also hid behind it a faint sense of tension, and discontent that was hard to detect or find meaning for. Not that strong, even most Protectors feel stronger. Pel evaluated his Level before thinking about it, and immediately cursed himself for being an idiot as Bowman’s head snapped up to look at him.