It took a good, long moment for Jack to come back to his senses and rip through the vines, currently entangling his legs. It took longer than that for Mrk to stop weeping. But after getting past this recent harrowing experience, they turned to each other.

“So. That was the nymph.”

“Yes.”

“It’s going to suck, only being allowed to eat plants from now on.

“It will, sir. Jack.”

“But hey, at least we have a garden.” He tried to see the glass half full.

“…we, sir?”

“Oh. Well, I think the nymph no longer has an issue with you living in the forest. And I thought, since you can now live on the surface, you’d want to share this clearing. Sorry, I just thought ahead, if you don’t-“

“Mrk is honored to be allowed to live with sir. Mrk is very happy. Mrk thanks sir very much! Mrk-“

“Mrk, calm down, it’s no issue.” Jack said, a little ashamed to be the target of so many thanks. “Besides, it’s not like we have that much. I have a shelter and a garden. And some pots. So, no worries.”

“Mrk is still very thankful, sir Jack. I promise to make this clearing the best clearing.” He said, determinedly.

Jack was happy to see the little one no longer sad, yet was equal parts amused and frightened by the intensity of his new friend’s promise.

“Well, there’s one condition.”

“Anything sir.”

“Call me Jack. Just Jack. And if a girl named Lola comes around, call me Jack all the time.” He laughed.

Mrk agreed to the first part and looked confused by the second, yet agreed to it all the same.

They spent the rest of the day trading questions and answers about their situation. Jack had little answers besides what he knew of the surrounding area or Lola, since he knew little in general. He did have the lion’s share of the questions, though. A pair of cups of tea were quickly brewed.

He learned that while Mrk’s people had a name for themselves, the word for it was unpronounceable by Jack and it only sounded like chittering to him. Thus, they used the words other races named them by. Ratlings. Or Mouselings, though Mrk seemed to quickly skip over any details pertaining to the second name.

Ratlings usually lived in great warrens underground, though a few lived closer to the surface, in underground huts. They mostly mined and traded and slowly developed their communities. Mrk, somewhat shamefully, admitted that his people are usually weak and afraid of other races, so they don’t venture out in the world that often. He neglected to mention why he ventured out, but since it looked like a sore subject, Jack didn’t press him on it.

That did lead to Jack finding out why Mrk’s speech was a little broken. He had only started learning it since he left his home, with nothing but the clothes on his back, his pouch and his staff.

“So, I guess that staff was important?” Jack asked. “You took its loss pretty harshly.”

“Yes. Important because great magic. That is, great magic for my people. But also important because it was of home.” Mrk said, sounding sad again.

“Wait, magic? I know about magic!”

“You s-, Jack knows magic?” Mrk asked, awed.

“No, I mean I know what magic is. I just… didn’t remember it until now. …wow. Wait, the nymph broke a piece of magic from your home. That bitch!”

“Yes.” Mrk said, looking back at the two broken pieces, currently sitting in Jack’s shelter. “B-bitch.” He said, fearfully. And then with more force. “Bitch!”

“What did it do?”

“Staff make anything ratlings do better. Anything we normally do. When I walked, I walked quieter. When I climbed, I climbed easier. And when I dug, I dug faster. I could control the earth a little too! But now it’s gone…”

…

“I do believe Mrk, that since we are going to make our home in this clearing, we might as well make it worthwhile.” Jack said, suddenly grinning.

“What does Jack mean?”

“Well, it’s obvious she considers this clearing a part of her forest. And we can’t hunt, that’s true. But I do believe that, even though she offers this place as a refuge, she’d prefer no one living in it full-time.”

“That’s… true. I thinks.”

“Well, then. What do you say we stake our claim on this part of the forest? We don’t hunt, but we develop. Trade with the village. Maybe we’ll even be able to buy some good food with what we gain from it. But you know what the best part of this is?”

“What?”

“It will annoy her!” Jack grinned.

Mrk stared at him for a second, before a grin of his own appeared on his face, filled with sharp teeth. It was the most petty revenge those two could offer.

They toasted their teas and went to sleep, for the next day would surely be a busy one.

That being said, busy day though they expected, they had no direct idea on how to expand their incipient tribe. Grand vision or not, work was work. One idea did come to mind.

“Mrk, don’t you mind sleeping on the grass?”

“No. Grass is soft and fire is warm. I slept much worse.”

“Well, yes, but… You said your people normally live underground. Don’t you want an underground hut or something?”

“No. I is… used to sleeping above-ground.”

“You’re killing me with kindness here.”

“But I could sleep above ground in a hut!” Mrk hurriedly said.

That was how they planned on spending their morning. Mud from the river, brough in baskets, sticks from the forest and rows of leaves tied together with vines. ‘Planned’ was only the operational word, however. Mrk was eager and willing to help, but had the tendency to stop and wait for instructions whenever he was finished or when Jack glanced over. It was midday before they stopped, satisfied with their creation.

The hut was round, taller, yet narrower than Jacks’ wooden shelter. A foundation of rocks and flattened earth supported walls of sticks tied together with vines and coated in mud. It wasn’t wattle and daub, but it was as close to it as they could manage. A roof of leaves completed the building and though Jack had to crouch when entering, Mrk thought it to be the best thing since fish soup.

Famished, they feasted on a thin soup of mushrooms and roots and waited for Lola.

And waited.

Not wanting a repeat of the previous experience, Jack set out to make the best use of the reminder of their day. As it turns out, ratlings have a good experience with working clay. Them being underground dwellers and all. It was a welcome surprise, being able to add handles to the pots Jack had been making, though he did feel a little ashamed of not thinking about it. They made pots, bowls, baskets. Everything they could, before the sun was nearly out.

By the warmth of the recently started fire, enjoying his cup of tea, Mrk spoke.

“Should we do things to eat next?”

It was a bonding point, that both tended to think about their stomachs more than they did about anything else.

“What do you mean?”

“I means… Spoons? Forks? Ladles? We hads it back home, they made eating quicker.”

Jack stared at him wide-eyed, for a second, before replying.

“Right. I know those. …this remembering at the last moment thing is really starting to grate. Uhm, what should we make them out of? Clay’s easier, but-“

“Wood.” Mrk nodded decisively. “Lasts longer. And doesn’t break in soup. I can sculpt by firelight! I has good vision at night.” He said, fishing around in his pouch.

“You can see at night? Like… wolves?”

“No. Can’t see night like day. Just see better.” He shrugged. “There!”

Finally finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a small piece of sharp rock, tied to a stick. To him, it must have been a crude knife.

“Oh damn!”

“I knows!” Mrk grinned. “I made it myself.”

“No, not that. I mean… yeah, it looks good. But uh… I have a knife.” Jack said, standing up and retrieving it from his shelter. “I just forgot Lola gave it to me.” He grinned weakly.

…

“That would have been good at hut making, me thinks.”

“Yeah. Me thinks too.”

“Still, now we both make spoons.”

Jack laughed.

“Always the optimist.”

It wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. Though it annoyed Jack a little, that even with a worse knife, Mrk was managing to make better looking spoons. Faster too. He even went on to make a crude ladle. He simply decided he was cheating, since Mrk was using his claws as well, but magnanimously decided not to call him out on that.

“There.” Jack said, looking at his shoddy, finished creation. “Perfection.”

|Class Level Raised: Tinker|

|Class Level: 8|

|New Skill:|

|Fast Hands|

“Only one?”

“What is only one, Jack?”

“Oh. I Leveled up my |Tinker| Class three times and only got a single Skill. Do you have any Classes, Mrk?”

“I do.” Mrk grinned. “I is Level 2 |Scavenger|. I even have Skill. |Sense Food|.” He said proudly. “But Jack said Jack Leveled up three times?”

“Oh, yeah. I understood from Lola that I tend to Level up faster than other people.”

He told Mrk about his Skills, which awed him, but when he revealed his Classes and Levels, Mrk reaction changed to worry.

“Jack shouldn’t take many classes. If you do, Jack becomes real Jack. Or… you wants to be one? Mrk thought the name was odd, but that it was human joke.”

“No, no, it’s a joke. I don’t want to get that class. I only took all these Classes because I didn’t know about the whole Jack issue. Your people have the same problem?”

“We do. Very little. Not so much as humans. Ratlings never waste, if they can help it. Not waste food, not waste clothes and not waste Classes.” He shrugged. “If one does, he punished. Like, don’t make babies.”

“What? That’s a punishment?”

“Yes. Can’t make babies, can’t find spouse. Spouse is word, correct? Can’t find spouse, other ratlings look down on you. They look down on you, life is hard in warren. So, punishment.”

“Huh. Anyway, you’re a Level 2 |Scavenger|. That’s cool. And you can find food?”

“I senses it, yes. That’s how I found fish soup and you.” Mrk grinned. “What is |Fast Hands|?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Let’s see.”

So said, Jack started chipping away at another block of wood. This time, he was chipping away fast. As fast or faster than Mkr had been.

“Well.” he said “Guess we’re about to have a competition.”

“Is good skill. But competition for next day. Sun down means we sleep now.” Mrk said and not even saying good night, stepped into his hut and laid down to sleep.

Slack-jawed, Jack stared at his friend.

Chicken.

And went to sleep as well.

***

The next day started very much like the last, with the notable difference that they actually had breakfast this time, knowing what lay ahead.

“I miss fish.”

“Mrk misses pork.”

“I’ve never even had pork.”

…

“Mrk misses fish too.”

Morning people, they were not. Yet a bit of mushroom with cheese and some tea in them, did a whole load of good. At the very least, it got them moving again.

“We should expand our garden. Plant more stuff in it. I’m getting tired of only mushrooms and root soup.”

“Yes, I wishes for more food as well.”

“We should look for more things to eat. More plants. And we should make it big. At least thirty feet across.”

“Why big?” Mrk asked confused.

“Because it will be noticeable.” Jack grinned.

After a second, Mrk grinned too.

“I sees. Yes. Very good.”

In good spirits, they went in the forest. Perhaps they’ll not be able to find new sources of food. But at least they’ll annoy the nymph.

It turned out that Jack’s |Resource Vision| Skill worked well with Mrk’s |Sense Food| one. They didn’t manage to find new food sources, outside of a type of tubers, which were at least nicer looking than the roots and some new spices. But they did locate a large number of berry bushes and normal type of mushrooms. And since there were now two of them, they managed to haul back quite a big batch of goods.

“Thinks it’s enough?”

“I thinks we need five times that. At least. But in a moment. I needs to breathe.” Mrk said, sagging.

It seemed ratlings weren’t built for carrying large loads.

They did manage to complete their task, though it took up half of their day, again. As the sun clearly pointed out.

“I likes tea. But I would give one claw for cold tea. Or water.” Mrk said, sweating.

“Me too, buddy. Maybe in the future we can divert the river and make it run through the clearing.”

“…I thinks we needs to wait, until we have more than knifes to work with.”

Broken dreams aside, the two stopped for a bit to make lunch. Jack was careful to make more, in the off-chance Lola decided to pay them a visit.

“And she will has no issue with me? I knows humans are scared of ratlings.”

“No worries. Lola is nice. She’ll have no issue with you.”

“And what should Mrk say to her?”

“Tell her… you’re Jack’s |Guardian|.”

“…|Guardian|?”

“It means friend.”

“I knows what |Guardian| means. Mrk heard of one who had Class.” Mrk harrumphed, but was smiling.

“I tells her I am Jack’s child. Made with nymph.”

That got a laugh out of both of them.

“I wonder why she’s not back. She said she can’t come every day, but this is the second day.”

“Mrk thinks, perhaps she can’t come every two days?”

“You are wise beyond your years, Mrk.”

“Ratlings are a wise people.”

“And short.”

“With long claws.”

“Fair point.” Jack laughed.

Banter was fun, but it wasn’t going to get the job done, so they started planting what they had brought. They managed to do it all before sunset, but it took a lot out of them. Especially out of Mrk.

“Mrk. Can’t. Do this. Again.” He panted.

“Don’t worry, Mrsk, you rest, I’ll make dinner. I’ll even throw what’s left of the cheese in the soup.”

“My. Thanks.”

“You should be proud of yourself. Look at that garden! You could see it by the edge of the clearing.” He grinned.

Indeed, it was quite a large garden, ten feet by ten feet. It even had a small fence surrounding it, though the fence was nothing more than loose wattle. A similar loose fence surrounded a fifth of the garden, where the fire mushrooms where given room to spread.

And setting the garden aside, Jack’s |Gardener| Class rose up to Level 5. No new skills, sadly.

“Yes. But… Mrk thinks maybe fence was not needed?” Mrk said, eyeing the contraption, like it had personally insulted him.

“Nah. Think about it like this. The garden is nice, but plants grow all over the forest. What makes this garden look like it doesn’t belong in a forest? The fence! Isn’t it just, so visible?”

“Fine.” Mrk laughed. “Fence easy to see. If nymph is upset, is for a good cause.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Dinner was done in no time and while they ate, they talked.

“It’s still odd Lola isn’t here yet.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I got a bad feeling about this.”

“You don’t have Skill for danger.”

“No, it’s more like a gut feeling, you know?”

Mrk shrugged.

“Anyway, I was thinking I should visit her tomorrow. I have to visit the village anyway, to trade stuff. I can’t let her keep doing all the work.”

“What to trade?”

“Ember-Caps. Uh, the fire mushrooms. And whatever else people would like. Think they’d like berries?”

“Yes. Don’t think they like roots. Or tubers. People plant that themselves. Herbs, maybe?”

“Maybe. I was thinking sticks too? For firewood.”

“Hmm. I thinks sticks is heavy.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just fire mushrooms and berries then. Maybe spices. But having something to barter with is only half of the issue.”

“What is other half?” Mrk asked curiously.

“Well, I look like this.” He said, gesturing to himself. “Those people already don’t look on too nicely at whoever lives in the forest. Walking bare chested into the village won’t win me any favors.”

“I sees. Well, we sees tomorrow if Lola girl comes back. If not, we thinks of something.”

“Fair. ‘Night Mrk.”

“Good night, Jack.”

***

The next day came around all too soon and with it, so did Jacks worries.

“Okay, I really think I should go. Do you know of any way to make a shirt? Or… tunic or even a robe, like the one you got? My |Basic Crafting| Skill is giving me nothing.”

“No. I don’t knows how to make clothes. And I don’t have Skills. But I thoughts about this and know how to fix.”

“How?”

“I give you this!” Mrk said, while pointing at his own robe.

“Mrk, no. That’s yours and…”

He didn’t say that he felt bad, taking away from the few belongings his short friend owned.

“No, no, it fits!” Mrk said, misreading his intentions.

He quickly took it off and rolled the sleeves back down. Jack was then faced with an over enthusiastic ratling, trying to get him dressed. As surreal as it sounds, nothing fazed him anymore.

“Fine, fine, I’m getting dressed. Pack up some baskets with mushrooms and berries while I’m at it.”

By the time Mrk did and helpfully tied both baskets with vines, at opposite end of a long stick, Jack dressed himself. To his surprise, the robe did fit. It reached Mrk’s thighs, but on Jack, it barely covered his midriff. And that was if he didn’t raise his hands. The sleeves, even rolled down, were still a little short for Jacks arms. Looking down at himself, he thought he looked a little like a beggar, but it was better than looking like a savage.

“Right then. Good luck! If I’m not back by nightfall, mount a rescue.”

“Mrk will come with stick and knife.” Mrk nodded, seriously.

“No, I was just… You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

His only response was laughter.

“That’s what I get for feeding you soup. Alright, Mrk, see you soon.” Jack said and set off into the forest.

His |Rough Walker| Skill came in handy, but he was still carrying a lot of weight. At least it was distributed evenly in the twin baskets. An hour passed, until he got in sight of the village.

It wasn’t much. Not like a city must have looked like.

But Jack had never seen a city. He had to stop and stare.

House upon house upon house, littered uneven streets. Some were little more than wattle and daub with straw roofs, yet others were made of real bricks and even had tiles on them. On a few, Jack even spotted glass windows. Some had yards around them, others were built close to the street, which itself was just bare ground.

Yet to Jack, this was the height of civilization.

And people. Oh, so many people. All milling around, dressed in clothes that had actual color. One was carrying a wheelbarrow, while another was sharpening a sickle. A woman was carrying a pot, while a gaggle of children played in the street.

Jack felt his eyes burning.

But he came here for a reason.

Walking up to the nearest person, the man sharpening a sickle, sitting on a short chair, Jack tried to be as personable as possible.

“Excuse me, sir? Hello, I was wondering if you could help me? I’m looking for someone, but don’t know where I might find her.”

The man looked up at him, straw hat protecting his eyes from the sun.

“Sir? Who are you boy?”

Damn. Don’t freeze! What can I say…? Well, here goes nothing.

“I, uh, I’m Jack.” He said, almost adding another ‘sir’ at the end.

“Jack? Your name is ‘Jack’? Is that a joke to you, son?”

“No sir! My, uh, parents had a bad sense of humor.”

“Did they now? And who are your parents?”

“They’re… not from around here, sir. I’m not either. I’m just looking for a girl named Lola.”

At that, his eyes widened a fraction in recognition.

“Well, she’s down at Mrs. Winnow’s house. The big one, last one on this street.” He said, pointing down at a row of houses, on the periphery of the village.

“Thank you s-“

“Oh, stop siring me.” The man said, with an annoyed look on his face. “And hear this, you don’t look like the right sort and I don’t know you. You cause any kind of trouble and you’ll be the one to pay? You hear me?”

“Yes. Thank you again. Uhm, I’ll be going now.”

“Mhm.”

As far as conversations go, that was an unpleasant one. He didn’t know what to expect, but perhaps Jack had been spoiled, from only talking to Lola and Mrk, who were the very definition of good people. He cast his contemplation aside, when he reached the last house.

It must have been the one that man had been referring to, since it was clearly ‘the big one’. It was clearly the largest he had seen in the village so far and though it was no mansion, it looked like the owner of it was pretty wealthy. There was glass on all the windows and the central part of it even had a second story. A large yard surrounded it, itself surrounded by a tall fence. Not tall enough that he couldn’t see over it, however.

And what he saw got his blood going.

Lola was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the front porch with an oily rag, next to a bucket of what looked like paint. That in itself wasn’t so bad. Lola had mentioned that she was doing ‘this and that’, around the village.

What made him instantly frown was the fact that she was quietly crying. Which might have had something to do with a small boy, perhaps ten years old, continuously pulling hard on her hair. Seemingly peeved that he wasn’t getting her to react, the boy kicked the bucket, which spilled its contents all over Lola and the porch.

Seeing this, the boy came to his senses and ran, while Lola froze and simply looked around herself, at the spill.

Jack wanted to call out to her, but since misery loves company, that was the moment a middle-aged woman came out of the house and took in the scene around her.

“You! What have you done?! Do you have any idea how much Gemseed oil costs?! You useless cow!”

And smacked Lola over the head.