Collin was amazed they were still alive. There were so many times over the last few days that he thought for sure they were done for. So many places he thought would end up as his unmarked grave: the dead-end alley, in the belly of the dragon-thing, under the collapsing building, crossing the bridge, on the road at the hands of fellow refugees...so many places where his and Shelby’s deaths were just a hair's breadth away. Only to luck could they credit still being alive. Luck, and the uncanny guidance of the little girl.

Somehow, with her creepy glowing eyes, she always was prepared. She knew just when to move and when to wait, her timing always perfect to avoid almost all of the monsters. And those that they didn’t avoid, those that approached while she slept or surprised them mid-transit, she always knew how to escape or fight back. Some had weaknesses the girl was able to exploit. Some could be distracted or easily lost. And some she let Collin and Shelby kill.

Collin normally wasn’t a fighter. In what he was rapidly starting to think of as his previous life, he would avoid conflict like the plague, more willing to shrug off an insult or accident than take offense. But somehow, when the little girl stared at him and told him he could fight...he believed her. She looked completely sure that Collin and Shelby would be able to defeat whatever beast was harrying them. And her confidence, that of a tiny girl young enough to be confused for his daughter, would give Collin his own confidence, a confidence he never knew he had.

And so they made it to Bothell. The guard at the entrance simply warned them to keep their daughter from using her skill against others and distractedly waved them through.

The little girl walked between them, holding the hands of Collin and Shelby, her knife stored in a recovered belt around her waist. They wandered through the guarded area of the city, amazed to finally find a place free of monsters, but Collin couldn’t bring himself to completely trust the new measure of safety. The last four days of travel had been terrible, filled with constant danger, fear, and blood.

He was worried it was only the beginning.

- Collin and Shelby, Inclusion +6 days 4:57 hours

Two sixteen-ounce water bottles, newly filled up with slightly ashy river water. One map, carefully dried in the sun. One compass. One cigarette lighter. Four light-weather outfits, minus two shoes, one sock, and a pair of pants. One pair of earplugs. One axe. A medical kit of topical ointments, over-the-counter painkillers, and chewy vitamins. Two rolls of toilet paper, damp and merged into single large clumps, but still better than leaves. Some...ahem...womanly supplies. About five meals worth of food to split between the four of us.

That’s all that’s left of our supplies after our adventure through the haunted woods, packed away into the two backpacks. At our current pace, which is slower than usual despite being much less burdened, we should reach Clayton around noon tomorrow.

I’m ashamed to admit I’m a large part of what’s slowing us down. Despite using my skill to ‘fix’ my foot this morning after a light breakfast, my lack of shoes and mostly-bare legs makes for difficult travel in a forest.

After an embarrassingly long time struggling, I managed to toughen the soles of my feet with my Adjust: Self skill. But while the newly hardened bottoms of my feet prevent any additional injuries, they don’t make walking long distances any easier, my gait clumsy and the arches of my feet aching after just a few minutes.

“So why were those things called ‘Mind Spirits’ anyway? I know their fear thing messed with our minds, but it certainly didn’t feel like their defining feature,” Styx asks Sam as we hike together through the trees.

After a slow start to the morning spent distributing our continual gain of Numbers and recovering from the previous day, we decided we couldn’t afford to waste any more time relaxing given how little food we have left. It’s now almost noon, and we’ve been walking for about two hours.

“You are correct, it is not for their ability to cause fear. Typically, their fear aura is not as powerful as it was yesterday. I would guess at least one of them had another skill to supplement their natural ability. No, they are called ‘Mind Spirits’ because their Numbers are almost entirely focused on the ‘mind’ attributes of wisdom and intelligence.”

“Wait, you mean there are other types of spirits that focus on other Numbers? I mean, a charisma spirit I can imagine...maybe something like our stories of will ‘o wisps. But a strength spirit? What would that even be?” Melete asks with incredulity.

“In broad terms, yes, there are other types of spirits. Although I would caution you against making assumptions about them simply because they all have ‘spirit’ in their names. Each is an entirely different species from a different world, grouped together simply by the similar trait of ephemerality.”

“And strength spirits?” I ask, now also curious about how that would work.

“What you are imagining we call ‘Boxer Spirits.’ If you do encounter one and you do not have any sort of mental attack, I advise you to run. I am not aware of any weaknesses they may have to heat or water, and they are able to selectively turn parts of their body solid to bludgeon their prey. They are only susceptible to physical attacks for an instant before and after they strike, and then only in selective locations,” Sam replies.

“Huh, that’s actually pretty cool,” Melete says. “Kinda a reverse of what Pallas can do with his new skill. Think you’ll be able to use it to fight like that, Pallas?”

“Possibly, although I would need to practice,” he answers thoughtfully. “Currently, turning parts of my body ethereal takes a second of concentration.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to chuck rocks at you in the name of training, you just let me know,” Melete replies happily.

I return to practicing my new skill, sending a mental request to Styx to form a bond. It doesn’t add any strain to those I bond with, and apparently they can’t even feel that it’s there if I don’t speak to them, so she accepts immediately without responding.

Her perspective springs into existence in my mind, and I struggle to keep from stumbling. But after a moment my gait steadies and I marvel at how much my new intelligence helps me parse the two streams of data.

Before when I had been practicing this skill, the multiple perspectives were too much for me to handle no matter how much I concentrated. But I managed to get around that restriction by selectively ‘ignoring’ one of the perspectives, typically just paying attention to my own while pushing the other to a back corner of my mind.

My increased intelligence Number doesn’t help with this ‘selective ignoring’ at all -- in fact, it almost does the opposite, bringing the different perspectives into clarity and making each new perspective harder than ever to disregard. But those different perspectives are no longer so difficult to process, my ability to comprehend the conflicting streams of information increased in proportion to my intelligence.

I keep walking through the forest, paying attention to my steps and watching for any monsters to the right of our group, while with my skill I look through Styx’s eyes to the left. It’s difficult, and after a few minutes I feel a headache form near my temples, but for the training and the benefits my skill provides, the pain is bearable.

While it doesn’t literally provide an extra set of ‘eyes’ for our group, practically it serves almost the same purpose. It combines my perception, boosted by my wisdom Number, with Styx’s better than average eyesight to have double the minds on alert for any approaching monsters. My vigilance obviously isn’t as high as it would be with my skill inactive, but with more training and Numbers I bet I’ll be able to observe multiple perspectives as well as I can my own.

Speaking of increasing Numbers...I look to my palm, noting the small fifty-three marked there. After seeing the effect increased intelligence has on my ability to use my new skill, I barely hesitate before tapping on my arm, intelligence rapidly closing the gap on wisdom. The strain of using my skill eases by just a bit, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Fifteen minutes later, we stop for a short break. Normally I’d call it our lunch break, but the meager amount of food we distribute barely constitutes a snack. I swallow my portion in less than a minute, content to rest in silence while practicing my skill.

My friends finish their own food just as quickly. Melete lounges on a large rock, her feet swinging as she hums a song to herself. Sam keeps watch from the branches of a tree above our heads. Pallas sits with his back against the trunk of a tall tree, his knees almost to his chest, staring at his semi-transparent hand. Styx stands and makes her way over to where I’m relaxing.

What’s up? I ask her through our still-active bond.

“Want to go for a walk?” she asks, jerking her head to a direction away from the rest of our friends.

“Sure!” I respond with a smile, suddenly full of energy as I pull myself to my feet with barely a groan of pain.

My heart beats in my chest as I follow her away from the camp in silence, Melete following us with her gaze and a smirk. The silence continues until we’re out of earshot from our friends and Styx turns to face me, a serious look on her face. My heart beats even heavier.

“I’m worried about Pallas.”

I stare at Styx in confusion. That...certainly wasn’t what I expected.

But before I have a chance to question her statement, Styx continues. “I don’t know if anything is wrong. I hope nothing is wrong. But...how well did you know him before the inclusion?” she suddenly asks.

“Less well than I knew you,” I reply, which means basically not at all. We were in the same class and I knew his name, but that’s about it.

“I wasn’t very close with him either, but I’ve shared at least one class with him since elementary school. He’s always been quiet, willing to let others take the lead and talk in his place, but since the inclusion it’s gotten worse. Way worse.”

Having spent the past few months in school as a quiet loner myself, a small part of me bristles at her implication that silence is bad. But I brush it away, questioning her further. “What do you mean? And why bring it up now?”

“At first, I just figured it was a result of losing his Numbers and of all the death and danger, that as things recovered he’d grow to be a little more vocal. He’s justified to a little emotional trauma, and if silence is how he wants to deal with it, then that’s fine. But...he doesn’t seem to be getting better. And now, this skill.” I turn my head curiously, wondering where she’s going with this. “Sam says that we only get skills that we ‘resonate’ with, that we have an extreme emotional connection to. Melete, to singing. Me, to equality. You, to change and to warning me about the attack. And Pallas just got a skill that literally makes him fade. I’m not a therapist or anything, but the fact that he has a ‘resonance’ with basically turning invisible...it’s worrying.” Now I’m worried with her. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most emotionally aware, but now that Styx has pointed it out I can see that gaining a skill that causes him to disappear from our world is a pretty blatant warning sign. “Can you talk to him?” Styx asks.

My eyebrows raise. “Wait, why me?” I ask with panic. “I wouldn’t know how to broach that with him, much less counsel him, or whatever else he needs.”

“Like I said, I never knew him that well,” she cuts me off before I can interrupt. “And I know you barely knew him too. But he respects you. Before you showed up at the cabin...it was bad. He follows you, and I think he’ll talk to you.” She hesitates a moment. “I might ask Melete too, but...I don’t think she’s the best person to help with any psychological issues.”

I’m skeptical, unwilling to concede that I’m qualified to offer any therapeutic advice to a person I consider the most reliable of our group. But I’m also unwilling to deny Styx such a simple request.

“I...guess I can talk to him,” I finally say, and Styx breathes a sigh of relief. I don’t know how much help or ‘therapy’ I’ll be able to offer, but I can at least talk to him. I glance back to where our friends are still resting. “But later. Let’s get going now, and I’ll chat with him on our next break.”

S: 153

D: 144

W: 370

I: 312 (+53)

C: 100

0

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental