"So you'll be an instructor?" For some reason Georgina Lauren seemed to find this amusing, though unlike Bessie she limited herself to a private smile.

"Yes?" I eyed her, perplexed. "Are you pleased now I can afford to properly pay you?"

"Oh, that was never in doubt. I'm sure I could find alternative ways for you to compensate me." I just waited, but instead of explaining, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Have you considered helping Hannah out?"

I blinked. "Help her how?"

"With her arrows. You must know she can benefit from your Appraisal? Did you simply not think of it?"

"She would've said..." Georgina looked at me like I was slow and I hesitated. "Wouldn't she?"

"She doesn't want to use you. That silly girl. If I had to guess, she thinks even bringing up the subject would make you feel pressured." She stretched leisurely, smiling to herself. "I don't know whether to admire or spit on her stubborn pride."

What? Surely Hannah wouldn't hold back so much on my account, right?

I found my chance to ask the next afternoon at the Adventurer's Guildhall. I couldn't help feeling nervous over confronting her, but no sooner had I raised the subject of Appraising her arrows than Hannah said, "Oh! Would you?" She was already unslinging her quiver. "I would love your honest opinion and any advice."

"Um... sure." I accepted the first arrow, looked it over, and bit my lip but forced myself to keep looking. As I inspected each of her arrows with care, my heart sunk lower and lower until I looked back up to her anxious but hopeful expression.

Catching my hesitation, her eyes dimmed but she said: "Give it to me straight."

"Keep in mind I have seen many rare, beautiful, and expensive artifacts," I said. "I don't usually bother Appraising normal craftwork, so it's not really fair to judge you by my standards."

Hannah scowled. "Just tell me already."

I hesitated some more, but I was a Scholar. Above nearly all else I valued the truth. I took a breath and said, "The first problem is the materials. You made the head from magicite and steel, the shaft from magicite, carbon, and aluminum, and the fletching from... turkey feathers? But the ingots for the four metals weren't pure, and this problem was only compounded when you mixed them into alloys. Then there are slight flaws where you shaped them, though they might be hard to see -- if I remember right, you only have the first-tier [Appraisal] and [Keen Eye]? -- and where you welded the arrowhead and shaft together. All this means the internal distribution of mana is uneven, so your arrows can't support Skills, spells, or enchantments as effectively. And finally, the arrow as a whole is earth-aligned, whereas the feathers are air-aligned, reducing the mana efficiency further."

I could hardly bear to look at her expression by this point, but that didn't help when I could sense her. This was a mistake. I even realized it during, but once I started it felt even more wrong to stop halfway. No, hadn't I once heard advice to couple honest critique with twice as much encouragement? "Those are just the issues I see, but especially considering your limited materials, you did an excellent job sharpening--"

"Stop." Hannah gave a humorless laugh. "It's a little late to spare my feelings at this point."

"I wouldn't lie to you," I said. "Not in what I see wrong or right with your arrows. Sorry, I should have led with the latter." She didn't feel better, so I felt worse, prompting me to admit: "I'm just not used to this. Previously I was tasked with Appraising by my former owners, who were obviously most interested in an artifact's value, utility, and any flaws."

That drew her interest. "Why, to decide what to buy?"

"And to negotiate the price down. You already know the other two, so I fixed on the flaws... sorry." Actually, I wasn't terribly impressed with the arrows, but I now realized there was no point saying so. She was already working on improving them, and so my brief stunt with Blake's bluntness could only demoralize her, which was the opposite of what I wanted. "If you want, I can have a look the next time you... craft? Forge? Though I don't know how much help I'll be. And um, now I'm interested in reading up on arrowsmithing, just so I'll have more familiarity. Which books would you recommend?"

"I... don't know." She looked awkward. "I haven't read any."

"What?" I couldn't help staring at her in shock. "But. Don't you think that would be useful?"

"I'm just not a reader." My mouth fell open. "Not like that. I can read," she said, correctly interpreting my horror, "I just don't enjoy it, so I didn't think of turning to the library." She practically wilted, mumbling to herself, "I probably should."

Eyeing her dispirited form, I offered, "I'm happy to look into the relevant texts for you?"

Hannah stared at me like I was her savior. "Really? Would you? No" -- she caught herself, shaking her head -- "I can't ask you to do that for me. I, I'll handle it, really."

"Um, it's no trouble. Seriously," I said to the lone martyr already mentally walking to her sacrificial pyre. "I told you, I'm planning to read up on arrows anyway. Maybe you've forgotten, but unlike you, I love reading."

"You're right," she said in wonder. "What was I thinking?"

"That you need to do everything yourself? Georgina called you stubbornly prideful."

She scowled. "Just because I'm not willing to date someone to steal their secrets..."

"What?"

"Oh, forget I said that. It's a long, stupid story, really."

"Um, all right. Anyway, I need to leave before I'm late for my own class."

Late in this case meant failing to finish the list of spell circles in time. The Adventurer's Guild had more than earned their cut -- exactly half the profits, despite Learned Anderson's negotiations -- since not only had they reserved a room as large as for Basic Combat 1, they'd even marked out where I should chalk each circle -- grouping short-range or harmless spells together, and strategically placing combat spells and their respective targets -- and also provided the chalk.

To my pleasant surprise, I had twenty-one students registered for my first day, mostly for a random assortment of cantrips and Tier-1 spells, netting me nearly three silver. I'd given myself well over an hour to prepare, figuring it was better to rest and relax than rush. Instead, I discovered working nonstop on so many different spells, no matter how low-tier, was unexpectedly draining, and I'd barely finished and begun Meditating before the first student arrived.

"Oh, hello," he said, looking around. "Has the instructor arrived yet?"

"Um," I said, "That's me."

He looked back to me in surprise. "Oh, sorry, you just look so young. Are you an immortal?" He laughed at his own joke, and I smiled a little at the déjà vu, though unlike a certain tailor he didn't follow that up with a question on my parentage.

At that moment another student entered, and I gave up on Meditating. At least the conversation after establishing my credentials -- saying I was a Scholar sufficed -- centered around chalking circles, and though neither had a clue on where to start studying runes, they listened attentively to the books I recommended and my suggested reading order.

My teaching assistant arrived next, though he was intended to monitor the spells flying around -- and me? -- rather than offer any rune-related teaching assistance. I was intrigued by this Keith Kilwin, who the guild had volunteered to work with me for all my classes, but unfortunately we didn't have much chance to talk. From what I could gather, he was of muscular average height, had brown hair and eyes, possibly attractive in a boy-next-door way, probably in his late teens or early twenties, and definitely bored out of his mind. Also, as a corollary to this last, he seemed to have no inclination to talk to me or anyone else.

More students began filing in, including two I recognized from the mission in Nomalia; one was the [Life Sense] mage who'd kept asking questions. They were just about the only ones not confused or disappointed upon seeing me, unlike the rest who'd been expecting, I don't know, an old man in mage robes with beard and staff?

But contrary to my short stint as a Path Advisor, I didn't have to worry lack of confidence in me would affect my ability to aid them. Instead, I simply set each student on their designated casting circle, guided the surprisingly many who'd never used one before, and refreshed the runes as required. I'd never before repaired so many runes in such short order with [Scribe], and I once more regretted the little time I'd had to Meditate earlier. Next time I would simply have to come sooner.

Still, this was nothing compared to the many times I'd exhausted my mana yet been forbidden from breaking a circle, and once students began flagging from consecutive spell-casting, I was even able to take short breathers and Meditate. I was in good company here and enviously noted several students had [Intermediate Meditation]. At long hourly last, we ended the class without incident.

Keith promptly left without a backwards glance, but most of the students remained to talk and ask more questions. I was starting to realize I had been deceived. Two hours per day, my foot! Teaching was so much more time-intensive than I'd expected or been led to believe.

But I couldn't well come unprepared to class or rudely dismiss my students after. Looking at these Bronze and Silver-Rankers, I saw Bessie before she'd officially become an adventurer, telling me how she'd painstakingly gained [Fireball] through her sheer grit and taking foolhardy risks without any real guidance. How could I just turn such hardworking people, who were only seeking to learn, away?

At least I was no longer worried I would make a terrible teacher. On the whole, I would judge my performance as satisfactory. For those who'd stayed behind and expressed an interest, I'd successfully taught the cantrip casters how to cast theirs sans circle, the Tier-1 casters how to attempt their own circles, and as for the sole Tier-2 caster... well, she should keep practicing.

On the other bright side, I was kept so distracted I didn't have time to agonize over my next class, as a student this time. On the downside, I still had to attend and pray for [Mental Resistance], and not only did I leave with nothing to show for my suffering, again, I stumbled to a washroom and threw up, also again.

Afterwards, I was incredibly relieved to return to the library and hopefully read a dozen books on arrows.

Once upon a primitive time crafting a single arrow had involved multiple specialists -- an arrowsmith for the arrowhead, cutter for the shaft, setter to affix arrowhead to shaft, fletcher to feather the arrow, and finally and best-paid, enchanter to work magic -- not to mention the numerous and wholly separate Artisans involved in making bow and quiver, but as we now knew, the many conflicting unmixed manas had increased the difficulty and commensurate cost.

Back then Skills were greatly venerated, such that nobody sold mundane arrows incapable of supporting a single one. In other words, ancient archery had been an activity reserved for the very wealthy or those sponsored by the same. Then along came Duke Ateller, who discovered a single Artisan could more easily and effectively craft an entire arrow. He wasn't the first, but the others had the wits to keep the secret and thereby profit, whereas he was unable to resist equipping his soldiers en masse and consequently besieged by spies. Suddenly every nation of moderate resourcefulness could field whole regiments of well-equipped and Skilled archers...

Wait. Should I really be reading this? Was it remotely relevant to helping Hannah? As fascinating as I found the history of arrowsmithing and archery and as much as I wanted to read everything in front of me, perhaps I should attempt to concentrate on more modern discoveries and practices. I guiltily closed the book and set it aside, reassuring myself I could always come back to it later.

For my own sake, I started on a beginner guide to arrow making. Hannah appeared to be adhering to generally accepted practices. Ah, so she'd been absolutely right to use turkey feathers. I'd always imagined mundane arrow feathers came from eagles, falcons, owls, or other such mighty, symbolic, but ultimately nonmagical birds. However, though sometimes other feathers were used such as goose, duck, or buzzard, and many magical beasts could offer far superior if more complicated options, and certain specialized bows could accommodate the more durable vanes in lieu of feathers... generally speaking, turkey feathers as fletching reigned supreme. Or at least, they seemed the industry standard.

No, why was this surprising? I berated myself for not giving my Journeyman friend the benefit of the doubt. For that matter, did I really think I could improve upon the professional work of generations of blacksmiths? Hannah even had an advantage since she'd crafted both her own bow and arrows... Wait. Considering a single Artisan was preferred as much as possible, didn't that mean she should ideally start her participation even earlier? I hurried back to the shelves and retrieved one of the books I'd seen on the general smithing shelves, which I'd skipped in favor of arrow-specific titles, bringing it triumphantly back to my table.

Then I flipped open Field Forging: A Guide to Adventurous Blacksmithing and began to read.

The next day saw me hurrying to the Adventurer's Guildhall with more excitement than anxiety. Checking the likeliest spots in descending order, I soon pulled Hannah outside the gym, where I began excitedly relating what I'd found: "Your primary problem was your materials, right? Well if you harvest them fresh from a monster you killed yourself then problem solved, for that and your mana efficiency issues! I have lists of candidate monsters here, you just have to coordinate the elemental alignments--"

"Wait, hold on, slow down," she said. "You're saying to use monster parts to make my arrows?"

"That and anything else you significantly interact with in the field. It's called field forging. Remember I told you other adventurer-blacksmiths have not only existed but succeeded twice over?"

She finally took my lists, looking them over. I waited with my heart drumming fast in anticipation, but she said only, "This one's for fletching? But some of these, like kirin, aren't feathered?"

"No, but their scales can be used as substitute feathers. And actually, scales in general are easier to enchant, so some just need an extra enchantment for suppleness. It's in a book. Um, Beast-Based Blacksmithing."

She shook her head, lowering the pages. "You did all this in a day? Why didn't I come to you sooner?"

I stared at Hannah guiltily. I'd been thinking along similar lines: all this time I could have helped her, and I never even thought of it. I was too busy reading every book that caught my interest. On the other hand, she really should have said something!

"Stop that," she said abruptly.

"What?"

"You're blaming yourself, aren't you?" Seeing my look of surprise, she said sharply, "I might not be an Empath, but I'm not an idiot." She paused and continued, "Sorry. It's just, you have so much going for you now you're leaving the library. You have two Advanced Skills to my none! And you're five years younger than me! I know I shouldn't compare us, but this is my thing. My love for arrows is what I have. So don't put that on yourself as well. I already feel inadequate enough." She sighed as I stared at her. "Sorry," she repeated. "You know I'm grateful, and I know, I know I should be happier, I'm just also... I can't help feeling... frustrated."

I started to open my mouth and paused. This time I thought for a long while before speaking. Therefore I did not say the first empty platitudes on my lips, I did not apologize to no purpose, and I did not change the subject to lighten the mood.

"Do you remember when we first met?" I said. "Or first talked, really talked. You didn't know your Path then, but now you do. So what if you've taken a little longer than you needed? Or if others are farther down theirs? Some people are still seeking their Paths their whole lives. Or never find it. You're one of the lucky ones, since you know what you want and you're striving for that. And you're in good company."

Hannah looked up while I talked, and by the time I'd finished a little smile was playing on her lips. "Well said." I could feel her mood brightening, lightening with mischief, before she said, "Did you prepare that speech in your head? I bet you really wanted to use [Scribe] to memorize it."

"Do you think I could have?" I asked seriously. "Or would that have ruined the effect?"

"Well... I'm not sure," she answered equally seriously. "By the way, don't you have class?"

The question shot through me like an arrow. "Mana preserve me!" I exclaimed and bolted.

Fortunately, I had come to the guild earlier, so I was no later than yesterday. The rest of my day was more or less a repeat, and the one after, except I finally was able to finish mapping my first section of in-Book shelving for [Enhanced Scribe]. My scrollwork, however, was progressing at a snail's pace for lack of time.

If Duni were still accessible, would I even have managed to visit? No wait, I was forcing myself to maintain my exercise routine -- I'd worked my way up to 'running' for thirty-five consecutive minutes! Outside! -- so I'd simply have swapped time and place. And probably been both happier and more productive.

On my fourth session of [Mental Resistance], an upgrade notification jolted me out of my Meditative misery. Yes! Finally, freedom! But wait, the Skill in question was the same... instead, to my shock, I discovered I'd gained [Intermediate Meditation].

I supposed I should've been even more overjoyed. This was the Skill I had labored over for so long, after all, and indisputably the more important as a mage. But I couldn't help feeling as conflicted and dissatisfied as Hannah had been. And as illogically, impotently, irreverently ungrateful.

Yes, I knew I'd gotten lucky with many of my Skills and of its bad interaction with Empathy, but my difficulty with [Meditation] still felt unfair. Over a decade of near-constant effort, and it'd taken pushing myself to the mental brink multiple times with a mind-eating monster to ascend? What would I need to reach Advanced, fight off the same number of full-body possessions?

At least Meditating was significantly easier, after, and a quick check with the receptionist confirmed the Intermediate Skill wouldn't hinder (or help) gaining [Mental Resistance]. Furthermore, preparing for class was no longer so tiring or time-consuming, since I could Meditate while drawing simple circles. I also soon received 'assistance' with putting my problems into perspective.

My classes continued to run smoothly, in part thanks to Keith Kilwin, my aloof assistant, who seemed to have a sixth sense for when spells would hit dangerously off target. Several times I turned around to find him already walking away from a sheepish student starting to self-correct their casting.

But this time I saw him. The Acid Jet was already midway to another student when he simply stepped in front and swatted the Tier-2 spell aside like a wad of paper, simultaneously disrupting the casting. I wasn't the only one who stopped and stared, open-mouthed.

This time I couldn't withstand my curiosity any longer, and after the caster stopped profusely apologizing and we'd restored order and a semblance of calm to the class, I cornered him -- attempted cornering him -- I called him over for a hushed conference. "How is it your services come so cheaply?" I winced as soon as I realized how that sounded. "Sorry, it's just... I'm taking half?" And they'd offered that before Learned Anderson stepped up to represent me.

His expression and emotions didn't change. "I'm indentured to the guild."

My brows furrowed. "Indentured?"

"I owe them the cost of a training golem."

I choked and stared at him. Suddenly, I remembered the combat-class assistant stressing: Now for the most important part...

Seeing my disbelief, he snapped, "My Skill upgraded mid-combat, all right? And I was an over-excited idiot."

I closed my mouth and reopened it, but all I could think to say was, "I'm sorry." The new insight into my assistant told me I'd both severely underestimated his ability and overestimated his willingness to be here. No wonder they were so quick to offer him up and slow to negotiate on his behalf. So long as he was earning barely enough to cover his interest payments, they could keep milking him indefinitely.

But as much as I felt for and wanted to help him, I wasn't well-off myself, and I had a good idea how much one of those golems was worth: far beyond my means. Brooding on this, I nearly bumped into Bessie on the way to my next appointment with vomit-inducing fun times. "Rena!" she said. "Quick, will you sign up for a quest with us? For Hannah, really. She said you've been helping her?"

"With her arrows. And monster lists." I shook my head. "What quest? Why do you need me there?"

"She just wants your advice and Appraisal when she's harvesting and crafting, I think. Oh, since the payment's mainly food and lodging we negotiated to use their forge--"

"For what? Where? When?" I interrupted a bit impatiently.

"Pest control. Helulo National Park. As soon as possible." She rattled off the answers. "Also, er, we might be there as long as a week?"

Since the request came from a hopeful Hannah hunting the monsters I'd recommended her, it was hard to say no. Still, I might be a library lover but I did occasionally have other commitments. Georgina was happy to suspend our now-morning meetings, and my part-time contract with the Adventurer's Guild made it easy enough to put my teaching on hold -- this stipulation was the primary perk of Learned Anderson negotiating for me, in my view -- which left my learning.

"Would it be all right to reschedule?" I asked Learned Westwick. "Tell me honestly, will your mentor be offended?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, she probably won't even remember." Seeing my expression, he added, "Not every Copyist Scholar is like Senior Okim, but... You know what it takes. My days are probably numbered before I stop seeing this world as clearly. Or caring."

"And you're all right with that?"

For a moment, I felt conflict from him. But then his aura resettled. "I chose my Path long ago," he said. "I don't think I'd still be me without seeing it through."

With my loose ends tied up, I gave my go-ahead, and we soon boarded a mass-transit airship to the park. Though I finally had my own coin, Hannah insisted on buying all our tickets. She didn't go completely overboard, though; rather than pay extra for a shuttle, we took a scenic walk to the landing bay. There I admired the descending dirigible: long, round, mottled grey, the product of a Master Artisan or several Experts working in concert. No, I supposed it was the other way around.

My friends were less impressed. "Do you think they make them that ugly on purpose?" Bessie said. "Like, to deter thieves?"

"That coloring is practically self-sabotage." Hannah shook her head. "They probably had to pay the poor Artisan extra."

Still, they also pressed up against the windows to enjoy the view and had no complaints for the clean, comfortable ride. It was a short walk to the park entrance after we were deposited, where a bored man in a booth asked, "Badge?" He inspected each of ours before frowning. "A Bronze-Ranker? Helulo National Park is publicly open for Silver-Rankers up."

"We're here for your listed quest," Bessie said. "And we'll watch over her."

"Listed for Silver-Rankers." He shook his head when she reopened her mouth. "Doesn't matter, park policy prohibits entry to anybody without the qualifications or an official guide. Either hire one or leave her outside."

"What are the qualifications?" I asked.

"Are you with the army, Watch, or another guild?"

"I'm a Scholar?"

He snorted. "I'm even less willing to let you in now. Whose head do you think it'll be if you lose yours?"

"How much is a guide?" Hannah asked and when he retreated into a backroom to check availability, "Don't worry, I can pay. I'm the richest one of us, remember?"

"The one-eyed leading the blind?" I said.

"Yes, I might even count as middle-class."

The gatekeeper came back out, shaking his head regretfully, though he felt anything but. "Everybody's busy with the pests. Cheapest is one silver."

Hannah gasped. "What? That's absurd, you're paying us a large copper a day!"

"Plus tickets, meals, rooms," he countered. "Tell you what, stay the full week, exterminate a few thousand pests, and you don't charge us, we don't charge you."

"So basically, you want us to work for free?" Bessie said.

"You're not here for the coin, anyway," he said shrewdly. "Rich adventurers like you?"

Wait. What did he just call us? "You're sitting on a resource mine," she said. "Aren't you the rich one?"

"We don't steal from nature." He oozed self-satisfaction but also sincerity. "And everything we make, we give back. Do we have a deal?" We grumbled, but he obviously knew he had us, smirking as he tapped a communication crystal. "Jeff?" A sleepy voice murmured an affirmative. "We have a Scholar needs sitting. Coming with the pest questers. You game?"

Twenty minutes later, a shirtless, shoeless man with long dark hair and more tattoos than clothing came loping out to meet us. I felt Hannah perk up with interest and then realized he was carrying a recurve bow like her own -- with its distinctive number-three shape -- though I didn't see any quiver or arrows. His eyes scanned us over before settling on me. "The Scholar?" I nodded, and he extended a hand. "I'm Jeff. Welcome to Helulo National Park. Is this your first time?"

After our uninspiring reception, our guide was a breath of fresh air. Despite his somewhat off-putting appearance, he proved easygoing and eloquent, explaining, "We normally handle pests and everything else on our own, but the new dungeon's triggered a breeding frenzy. Better to nip it in the bud before their numbers climb out of control."

I had trouble looking at him in his less-clothed state, but at the same time curiosity kept drawing my eyes back. I picked up new details every time, such as that he wore a corded necklace strung with teeth, each from a different beast. His tattoos however all appeared to come from the same artist, and one in particular looked familiar, a hand in paw. "Oh," I said, "You're in the Tamer's Guild?"

He frowned for some reason but nodded and pointed out another tattoo, a cursive 'fam lovers not users.' I looked at him in confusion. "Um, isn't your motto 'bonded for life, in peace and in strife'?"

His eyes focused on me intently. "Do you have a familiar?"

"No, just an interest in guilds."

Instantly he regained his relaxed, laidback air. "Then you know how guilds are. Same trees, different branches. Ours believes 'bonded for life' isn't nearly enough. Too many still treat familiars more like pets than partners."

"Where's yours?" I asked.

"Dealing with pests." We both observed my friends actively engaging in said productive pastime. The current swarm was composed of sutureflies, resembling two-foot rainbow dragonflies. They were quite pretty actually, right up until the point when they were stabbed or smushed. Then they shriveled into grey husks that were quite disgusting. After a moment, he asked, "You're not going to help?"

"Um. I wouldn't want to accidentally set a friend on fire. Or the forest." He eyed me. "Not speaking from personal experience, of course," I added hastily. "What about you, why aren't you out there?"

"I specialize in big game."

"Oh, is that a soul-bonded bow? Or do you have a reloading Skill?" He looked at me in surprise, and I flushed in realization. "Sorry. Never mind." I could probably find out on my own without breaking social protocols, if he ever stopped carrying the bow on his opposite side. Or if his bare chest didn't distract.

Changing the subject onto bows and arrows in general proved fruitful, as he revealed he knew a blacksmith who was an expert in bone steel. "Not an Expert. I mean, he isn't in the Artisan's Guild. He doesn't sell to clients, just trades to friends."

"Do you think he'd be willing to help my friend Hannah?"

"The archer?" He scratched his cheek, studying her, and shrugged. "Does she have anything to trade?"

The unshaven blacksmith certainly fit the stereotypical 'picky, prickly, and peculiar,' but he seemed motivated to assist us first at Jeff's request, second to avoid pest-clearing duty, and third when he learned of my [Advanced Appraisal]. I considered even his best work mid-tier, albeit well-crafted and original, but one look and Hannah gave up her gold necklace as payment. She then spent the next few days field forging bone steel, which involved purifying iron, handpicking the best bones from her fresh kills, heating and mixing the two, forging the resultant alloy, and finally quenching it in blood. Occasionally she went out to hunt, but mostly Bessie and the others picked up the slack.

My only role in this whole enterprise was to mercilessly critique flaws in her crafting both during and after. I enjoyed this even less than Hannah, but at least the blacksmith seemed to derive some perverse satisfaction. Well, it was also sort of interesting to see my reading in action. So many details I might've overlooked but for my books! Take just the fletching, for example: I noted the selection of all left-wing or right-wing feathers per arrow, the helical curve around the shaft to aid arrow spin and accuracy, and the lengthier shield-cut feathers, sacrificing a little speed for more stability and space to enchant.

Unlike Hannah, though, I was unable to bear whole hours staring at arrows or what wanted to become arrows. Whereas time could fly in the library, the days seemed to pass slowly here. Whereas my blood often pumped faster when deep in my books, I felt lulled into a sort of dreamy disconnect here. Whereas reading could be exciting but rarely stressful, even a short walk here involved stepping over and around obstacles, checking bushes for pests or worse.

Oh, the park itself? It was, um, great.

All right, I stayed exclusively in the one village and its patrolled areas, and that was forest enough for me. My friends lightly suggested I join them on a trip past the safe borders, and I just as politely declined. So there.

Besides, there was plenty to do, walking trails, talking to Jeff and his giant ape familiar, and exploring their small but self-sufficient village, which was apparently one of several scattered throughout the park (though friendliness towards outsiders varied). Tom's presence endeared us to these particular locals, and I couldn't decide whether or not his cooking actually tasted better thanks to the wild and fresh ingredients. My unusual amounts of physical exercise also ramped up my appetite. Thankfully, despite their unorthodox lifestyle the villagers made use of all the usual amenities, so I went to bed every night feeling clean no matter how I'd spent my day.

But essentially, we were waiting on Hannah. And on the sixth day, she met with success performing the entire arrow making process using the same winged owlbear -- a lucky find -- for bones, blood, and feathers. Rather than continue practicing with inferior materials, she spent the last day shooting pests with her shiny new arrows, sometimes stopping to grin to herself in delight. Honestly, her bright and bubbly excitement reminded me of our once-driver's infatuation.

Then again, I supposed she had just passionately embraced a new love, field forging, which would hopefully turn into a lifelong committed relationship.

At week's end, we said our goodbyes to a village clearly accustomed to transient tourists. To my surprise, the stoic-seeming blacksmith was waiting out front for one last teaching moment, summarized as: "Don't get cocky." Apparently more advanced techniques just for bone steel included substituting rock monsters for iron, quenching in still-flowing blood, or austempering instead of the usual quenching and tempering. Hannah nodded along as he spoke, then impulsively threw her arms around him in a quick hug before skipping back.

As we stepped off the airship outside Wilton, Bessie said: "Congratulations on your third quest, Rena!"

Oh, here I'd been thinking of it all along as 'Hannah's quest.' "But I didn't do anything," I pointed out.

"Doesn't matter, third one's still a milestone. You could take the Silver-Ranking test now if you wanted!"

"We aren't back yet," Tom said.

"That's just a silly superstition. Quest's over, so what it was easy, nothing we say now will change that..."

I was nodding along in agreement, but as we started across a warded bridge, another ten minutes to Wilton, I paused. I thought I could feel somebody in distress, though I couldn't see anyone. I hesitated some more but then stepped down, heading in the direction I sensed them. "Hello?"

"Rena?" My friends caught up with me as I approached the riverbank.

Yes, it was a sole person currently burdened by despair, though judging by their shifting emotions they'd noticed my approach. "Just a second, someone needs help."

"You see?" Tom lamented.

"Oh, quit it," Bessie said. "And Rena, don't wander off on your--"

Blake said, "Danger!"

They snapped into action, casting defensive Skills. But I was too distracted by the approaching mourner, radiating pain, misery, and loss. I could hear her, calling to me, her sorrowful voice singing so sweetly, beckoning me home. And I wanted nothing more than to go. I stepped through the [Mana Dome] separating us and closer to the water, looking for the one who needed me.

And she came. Rising out of the water, shimmering and splendiferous, her long seafoam green hair blowing in a nonexistent breeze... I caught one appreciative glimpse of the undine's unnatural beauty before river water geysered forward in a great flood and my friends' screaming panic simultaneously broke me from her thrall.

Too late. One moment, I stood on dry land, and the next I was yanked off my feet by a tidal wave, wrapped tightly in a watery fist. Then the undine, cooing in my ear, plunged us both deep underneath the waters.