We followed the stream down the hillside and onto the flatland east of Ikfael Glen. I led the way with my spear, while my adopted children followed behind. Billisha carried my backpack, and Aluali carried my bow.

They didn’t know that I’d adopted them. To them, I was their Zasha, their benefactor who saved them from slavery, but I knew my own heart. Over the past two weeks, they’d charmed me with their hard work, with their songs and dances, with the quiet ways they supported each others’ grief. Ikfael was made of sterner stuff--I saw the reservation in her eyes--but not me.

We gathered grasses and made beds. We built wooden walls to protect the cave from view. We fished and hunted small game. We gathered wild onions, blueberries, cranberries, beans, and squash. The re-created refrigerator impressed the heck out of the kids and was now fully stocked with bishkawi meat and produce.

It was a sparse life though, and I started building a kiln so that we’d at least have plates, cups, and jars. By the time we got back from visiting the farms east of us, the kiln’s walls should be dry and ready to be fired.

I’d tried to vary the children’s days by offering to train them, but they just went wide-eyed and shook their heads. Instead, they taught me in their songs, dances, and language. They worried about my inability to speak Diaksh. Billisha knew how to read and write, and she started teaching Aluali and me the fundamentals.

It was a busy time, but peaceful. The days got hotter and more humid, but the waterfall kept the glen cool and easy. We entertained each other with skits and stories, songs and dances. The children were big fans of someone named Aku, while I relied on the Brothers Grimm. Ikfael, though, was a surprise. She let us watch when she practiced making water sculptures move. Eventually, she took to animating our stories.

My favorite scene was when the woodsman chopped the wolf’s belly to free Little Red and her grandmother, and water sprayed like blood. Ikfael used cranberry juice for the red of the cloak and the wolf’s blood. Such a clever otter.

Two weeks wasn’t a long time, but they were so busy, it felt like a month. Things felt settled, and I thought a lot about the children’s welfare--about what I should tell them and what I could do for them. The uekisheile had opinions too--very definite opinions--but in the end, I decided that stability was most important for them right now.

The children didn’t need any more shocks or surprises. And I certainly didn’t want them to be afraid of me. No, once things were more settled and we built up more trust between us, only then would I talk to them about the uekisheile. For now, the lichen hummed to themselves inside my heart dantian. A few tendrils poked through my scalp though to help sense for danger.

We’d still be working in the glen, ordering our lives, if it wasn’t for Ikfael’s ever growing demand for donuts. I went along with it, because one, we owed it to the otter. And two, the children were native guides to help navigate the process. They were originally from far south of this area, but at least they came from this world. They were a heck of a lot more familiar with etiquette and protocol than I was.

It took about an hour to come down out of the hills. The flatland’s forest was much the same--a mix of pine, maple, red cedar, bilkeelet, and hoorotonei trees. I knew the names of the latter two thanks to my Status Camera. The trees were unique to this world.

The stream cut through them all. In a couple of places we encountered beaver dams. In another, a collection of chishiaxpe. We paused there long enough for me to show the children how to avoid them and how I collected their poison.

The key was to find isolated vines and use their instincts against them. Once they dropped to the ground, it was easy enough to sweep the vine with a spear and cut it in half. I demonstrated and added the vine’s poison to my bottle. The minty scent of its death sent all the other vines into hiding, and we continued on.

I found deer sign along the way, as well as tracks for turkeys, coyotes, foxes, skunks, javelinas, bears, and big cats. Hopefully, they were regular brown bears and regular mountain lions. This world’s powered-up versions--the kahlichi bears and chliapp lions--were too frightening. Well, it was a good time to apply poison to my spear, just in case.

The stream’s bank was muddy, and the prints were distinct enough for the kids to put their hands on them. The comparison let them know the sizes of the animals. The distance between prints told of the animal’s gait.

After another hour, we saw the forest’s edge. The trees had been cleared here, and only stumps remained. A meadow lay on the other side. The summer grass was long and dry; rustling yellow gold in the hot summer sun.

Past the meadow was farmland, with only about a third sown. The crops grew next to each other in strips; making for patches of patchwork on the land. The rest was left fallow.

At the center of the farmland, on a hill, was a walled village. I couldn’t see much at this distance-- just a few tops of buildings and a point that looked like the business end of a pyramid. It was at the center of a circle--surrounded by layers of village, village wall, farmland, and meadow.

To the right of us, inside the meadow layer, a group of people swung scythes in tandem to cut the long dry grass. Behind them, children gathered the cut grass and tied them into bundles.

A man and woman stood nearby to watch the forest. One held a bow, the other a spear.

Haoleise Kiielegsson (Human) Talents: Keen-Eyed, Natural Archer

Nascent: ???, ???, ??? Mulallamu the Hunter (Human) Talents: Scout-born, Tracker, Wild Sense

Nascent: ???, ???

The rest of the people had a mix of Talents: Green Thumb, Strong Arm, Weather Wise, Corn Whisperer, and so on. Most only had two Talents. Only Mulallamu had three. One person had four:

Koda the Head of Voorhei (Human, Dawn) Talents: People-Wise, Earth-Loved, Deep Thinker, Touch of Abundance

Nascent: ???, ???

Koda was a man in his early fifties. He stood about five foot ten inches, and had a short bushy beard. His hair was dark, streaked with gray. He looked like me and all the other people--a mix of half Hispanic and half Chinese.

The people’s clothing was more diverse though. I saw trousers, shirts, hose, dresses, and kilts, as well as hats and hoods of varying shapes and sizes. The material looked light and airy though. Cotton maybe?

The exceptions were Haoleise and Mulallamu. While both had simple metal helmets, Haoleise wore a thick jacket, while Mulallamu wore a jacket over buckskin. How they handled the heat, I had no idea. I was sweating a storm just standing in the shade next to the stream.

The villagers scything the grass steadily worked their way clockwise towards where the kids and I waited. I took a deep breath and stepped out. A crystal chime rang as I passed through the boundary between forest and meadow. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look in our direction.

No one panicked, but even at seventy-eighty yards, I could read the caution in their postures. The children working to bundle hay dropped their burdens and quickly gathered together in neat lines. The men and women held their scythes at the ready. The two guards moved towards us. Haoleise the archer hung back, with an arrow already nocked on his bow, while Muallamu approached us with her spear.

Billisha tapped me on the shoulder. “Time say words.”

Aluali looked worried, which was good. It’d meant that he’d also let go of Meliune’s Blessing and could talk.

The three of us yelled together, “I am human striving.” They were the words Billisha and Aluali first said to me; back when they were still in chains. We got our knives out, ready to cut our forearms to show that we bled, to show that we weren’t Little Horrors.

Mulallamu stopped ten yards away to look us over. Her eyes lingered on the Patchwork Chain Shirt (Hawaiian Style), but otherwise didn’t give anything away. “Talk for me,” she said.

I began my rehearsed speech. “We are human children living to the west. We come to trade for supplies. We ask to speak with the Village Head?”

Originally, Billisha wanted to be the one to introduce us to the guards, and then hand off the discussion with the Village Head to me, her Zasha. But in my mind, that was ass backward. She was the oldest among us and knew the language and etiquette best. Plus, this way, I could keep an eye on things without distraction.

My little speech must’ve convinced Mulallamu, because she waved her hand to the people behind her. They breathed easier, and the man named Koda walked forward.

Mulallamu continued to look us over, the curiosity now evident in her eyes. “What west? No villages there. All wilderness for three days. Your Family hurt? We go get.” She said more than that, but that was the gist.

I had a list of prepared responses in my head. “We are Family and live in a cave an eighth-day west. We escaped bandits and made a Made-Family there.”

Mulalluma was in her late teens, and her expressive face went from curiosity to surprise in a blink. Suddenly, the equipment we carried took on new meaning--the only way we’d be able to carry it away was if we left the bandits dead behind us. Before she could ask more questions though, Koda walked up.

“This is Koda, our Ashaxua,” Mulalluma said.

“This is Billisha. She will speak for us,” I said.

Billisha stepped forward to talk to Koda. She kept her hands balled to hide their shaking. It was a trick I showed her during one of the practice sessions for this expedition. There was a tremor in her voice, but she kept her chin up and looked at the adults head on.

Good girl. I hid my proud smile and kept my eyes roving over the surroundings as she explained our situation. The kids had come up with a story based on the ones about Aku the Wild Child.

I was apparently the scion of some magical hunter Family who’d been lost in the woods but managed to survive because of my early training. I saved Billisha and Aluali from bandits who planned to sell them at the town nearby.

That last part was true. This area was supposed to be a big source of furs and hides, and the bandits expected the kids to sell well there, as Billisha came from a Family of tanners and Aluali from trappers.

So far, everything was going according to script, although the adults were naturally skeptical of our story. I would be too in their shoes, but we needed something to explain my Skill set and my lack of Diaksh. It was the language of the World Spirit and shared by all people. Other languages existed, but only for keeping knowledge secret, like code.

Koda, in particular, looked half-amused and half-troubled. Like, “these are cute kids but what am I going to do with them? Why are they bringing me such a wacky story?”

According to the kids, the Village Head, the Ashaxua, was one of three positions in any village or town. They represented the “body” and ensured the villagers were upholding their responsibilities to farm, craft, repair, and everything else required of everyday life.

The Village Head reported to the Aweikdu, which translated into something like Land Knight or Land Warrior. The Land Knight represented the lifeforce of the village. They enforced laws, collected taxes, and protected the people from invasions, human or otherwise.

Finally, there was the Ahpeilliade, the World Speaker. This person was responsible for the village’s spirit. That usually meant religious ceremonies, interpreting the World Spirit for people, and maintaining the village’s magical defenses.

Interestingly, the roots of all three words were also to be found on the untranslated version of my Status screen. They were at the heart of Hit Points, Qi, and Mana. Which, if when I really thought about what Billisha was saying, could also mean Body Power, Life Power, and Magic Power.

At the time, my Status presented an option to update the translation, but I decided to keep Hit Points, Qi, and Mana. I’d grown used to them, and they reminded me of my gaming days; a bit of useless nostalgia maybe, but comforting nonetheless.

We brought a bishkawi hide with us as a sample. Billisha was asking Aluali to unroll it, when I spotted the most enormous dog running toward us. It was the size of a horse and built like a grappler, with short gray fur, a big meaty head, and thick chest. A small rider hung onto a harness around its torso with one hand. In the other, he held a war hammer. The spiked end faced towards us and was almost two-feet long and curved.

Jeseidatchei (Animal) Talents: Fighting Spirit, Neckbreaker, Never Gonna Let You Go

Nascent: ???, ??? Musastacha Dog Rider (Human) Talents: Featherweight, Dog Lover, Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

Nascent: ???, ???

I put myself between the approaching dog and my kids, but no one else seemed concerned.

If anything, Billisha’s eyes shone. “Is good. We no fight. This is a dog village. Is protection. Is rich village. Dogs eat a lot. People here have pockets to buy bishkawi hides.”

Mulallamu ran towards the dog and rider to let them know there was no danger. They continued onward though, but at a more sedate pace. The big animal was winded, and slobber fell from his mouth in rivers. His hot, stinky breath blew all over us.

Musastacha Dog Rider had a long discussion with Koda. The more they talked, the more Billisha frowned. Then Musastacha laughed at our story, and she got mad--I recognized the way her brows furrowed.

She interjected, and surprised the two men with the words for adult and Level 3. The men looked skeptical. Then I heard Ikfael Glen mentioned--which was off script, very off script--and it seemed to give Koda pause. I felt myself wanting to jump in, but the words were too fast and unfamiliar for me to follow. All I could do was read the tone and body language.

Billisha kept talking. Her fists were no longer balled in fear, but in anger. She demanded something, to which the two men reluctantly nodded after a short discussion.

She said to me, “This village name is Voorhei. East is town name Albei. They rich, but they stupid. They no believe in Zasha. They no believe you fight bishkawi. We go meet with World Speaker and show them.”