Myles was not sure how long he’d been walking, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t moving forward. He was also quite certain the bridge wasn’t getting any closer, and that he had walked past that rock on his left at least four times already. Myles also had a sneaking suspicion that he was starting to get delirious with pain and thirst.

Myles tripped on a small stone and fell, landing hard on his dislocated shoulder. The pain caused his vision to white out for several seconds, after which he turned onto his back and just laid there for a bit. This was so not his day.

Ding!

Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill [Pain Resistance].

Pain Resistance_ Lv. 1/15

Type: (passive)

Increases your ability to function through pain per skill level.

Would you like to slot in this skill?

«Yes» || «No»

‘What would I do without you, System?’ Myles thought, hurriedly slotting in the skill. He could use some pain resisting right about now.

With a lot of groaning (so much for [Pain Resistance]), Myles pushed himself back onto his feet, cradled his right arm once more, and continued north. This time, while paying more attention to what laid in his path.

As he walked (read: stumbled), Myles dwelt on the fact that the light had not once changed direction in all this time. No matter how many hours passed, this creepy place continued to maintain that early evening twilight. And while he was on the topic of how strange this place was; how could he breathe? This was literally a piece of rock floating in space, how was there any air? Or atmosphere? How was there even gravity? Earth-like gravity for that matter? And the temperature, shouldn’t this by all rights be a cold, dead rock in space?

Myles sighed tiredly. Did any of that matter? And besides, wasn’t it better for him this way? After all, if this was a cold, dead rock in space he’d be long dead by now.

Myles tripped again, but caught himself in time. That was close.

He rose, eyes scanning the terrain before him idly before focusing on the bridge again. Then he frowned, and he looked back at the object far off in the distance to the left that he’d initially overlooked. The moving object.

Myles squinted, focusing in the weak light, and he saw that the object kinda looked like... a person. He was sure of it, that was a person. They seemed to be carrying a bundle of some sort on their shoulder, but Myles could tell from the gait; that was a person.

Myles immediately changed course, all thoughts of the bridge pushed to the backburner. The bridge will always be there after all. And, who knows, that person might have a way off this island that didn’t involve climbing a skyscraper high root hanging over the infinite void of space.

The closer Myles got, the better he could see that this person was very likely female, holding a long walking-stick, and that they looked somewhat strange (shocker). For one thing they were wearing very little clothing. Which, unless you were some sort of masochist, was just insanity in an environment like this. And secondly, their gait seemed off somehow, almost like their feet didn’t work right. The nature of the load they had slung over their shoulder became apparent though, it was a person—possibly unconscious, if the way they were slumped lifelessly was any indication.

The person stopped. Then... yep, it was a she, turned and stared at him.

Myles stopped and raised his hands in a non-threatening ges—Ouch! He pressed his right arm back to his chest and raised his left hand in a non-threatening gesture.

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” Myles meant to shout, but what came out was a croak and a cough. Damn, he was thirsty.

The woman? Girl? Myles couldn’t be sure, gently dropped the person she was carrying then stood again, watching him. Doing and saying nothing.

Myles was still some distance from her, and trying to shout a conversation with her in the low light and out in the open like this, especially when his throat felt like sandpaper, did not appeal to him. So, slowly, he walked towards her.

Myles got within ten feet of the woman and stopped, staring at her unabashedly. This was for two reasons. The first was that she was, to put it in the simplest of terms, not human. Humanoid, to be sure, but she certainly didn’t fit into any category of human Myles was familiar with.

She had no feet, her legs ending in hooves instead, and her head had two small horns that poked straight up from just above her forehead with their tips bent straight back. The only hair on her scalp grew in a straight line down the middle of her head and was plaited in a loose braid that ran down her neck. Her ears were a little bit high up on her head and stood out, horizontal and pointy. Her eyes were dark and glassy; nose buttony; mouth small; face slim. Skin which Myles had assumed was ashen turned out to be brown from the patches visible where the grey dust all over her had rubbed off. Her physique was mostly skin and bones, with a thin, hard layer of muscle between the two. And for someone who seemed to be part goat, she had way less body hair than Myles would have expected.

As for the second reason why Myles kept staring long past the minute mark, that was because the woman was utterly, unashamedly naked.

*****

Atakarr’s POV

The other was staring, but Atakarr couldn’t really begrudge him that as she was staring too.

She’d been staring for quite some time, in fact.

Unlike some, she’d always believed the stories of the elders, about the worlds out there in the realm and the people who inhabited them (even though the elders who told those stories had been told the same stories, having never seen these worlds themselves), but actually seeing an other was not something she had ever expected to happen. Maybe in her dreams, where they came in big ships and helped her people get off this accursed rock they called home, or gave them the tools and weapons they needed to survive Above, yes. But not for real. And not like this.

The other looked battered, for lack of a better word. He was bruised and scraped and his clothes (actual clothes! The last time she’d seen cloth was when she was still a child) were torn and stained in blood, sweat, and the ever-present grey dust, while the way he cradled his arm with the swollen shoulder suggested the great pain he must currently be under. Worst of all though, was the very obvious hope in his eyes when he looked at her.

No. No, this was wrong. The other wasn’t supposed to look to her for help, it should be the other way around. For a split second, Atakarr felt an irrational anger towards the other; why couldn’t he be like in her dreams? She fumed. Why couldn’t he be strong, and sure, and all-knowing; salvation personified? Why did real life have to be so depressing?

Her fury passed as quickly as it came, and she was just about to say something to break the stare which had gone on way too long when he beat her to it and spoke.

“Um,” he said, voice dry and croaky. “Do you know you’re naked?”

Atakarr blinked at him, not understanding a single word of what he said. Here was another thing her dreams never had either, a language barrier.

“I mean, obviously you know you’re naked,” the other continued eyes flitting about, from her face to her chest to lower down, then all around their surroundings and back again.

Was he going delirious from fever due to his injuries? He didn’t look sick though? Would she even be able to tell?

The other kept talking, seemingly to himself, and it was starting to get annoying if Atakarr was being honest. “Stop talking,” she said, maybe a little more sharply than she’d intended to. “I don’t understand you.”

The other actually quieted and his brows slowly morphed into a frown as he muttered, “of course. I mean, why would we speak the same language when I’m probably not even in the same universe that Earth is?” he sighed, then pointed at himself. “Myles.”

Atakarr stared at him.

The other repeated the action; finger tapping his chest, he said again, “Myles.”

Oh. Realization dawned on Atakarr. His name. She pointed at him and tried to reproduce the sound, it wasn’t too hard. “Myles.”

“Yes,” he said. “Myles.”

Atakarr pointed at her own chest in turn. “Atakarr,” she said and the other, Myles, imitated her. She nodded. Her eyes caught his shoulder then, it was clearly dislocated and had been for some time. That would need to be fixed. Lucky for him she knew how.

“I can fix that for you,” she said, despite knowing he couldn’t understand her. She just hoped gesticulation would be enough to get the point across.

The other said a bunch of meaningless words in turn, looking at his injured shoulder which she’d pointed at but not seeming to understand.

Okay, time for plan B. Actions do speak louder than words after all.

Atakarr set down her spear (which was just a mostly straight branch with a sharp edge) and walked to the other. She took his injured arm gently but he winced all the same, though he did not try to stop her. Seems like he did understand after all.

Slowly, as she’d done a dozen times before for her fellow hunters and once for herself, she set the joint with a pop.

The other let out a small, pain-filled cry, then panted. “At least I got a skill level out of it,” he muttered.

Atakarr let go of his arm, which he continued to cradle to his chest; reasonable, his shoulder would be sore for a long time yet, then she picked up her spear and returned to Frezz’s body, eyes taking in as always the neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and the young face frozen permanently in an expression of fright. Frezz’s death had not been her fault; he had wasted his life due to his own stupidity and recklessness, but Atakarr still felt some small measure of guilt over the whole thing. At least one way or another they’ll be getting meat back home.

Tossing Frezz’s corpse back onto her shoulder, Atakarr beckoned to the other to follow, then set off, keeping a brisk but not too taxing pace so the other could keep up on his notably shorter legs.

They walked in silence for a minute or two, Atakarr wondering where the other had come from. Could it be he’d crashed up Above like her people had all that time ago? It was possible. After all her own people had relocated down here to escape the beasts Above.

“Hey, Atakarr,” the other said.

Atakarr did not understand the first word he spoke, but she knew her name, so she acknowledged him with a “yes?”

“What is the name for this?” He said pointing at a small rock he was holding.

Atakarr stared at the rock. It was a perfectly ordinary rock, no different from the countless others around them. “What’s so special about the rock?” she asked him in confusion.

The other said something, and it took Atakarr several seconds to realise that the other had attempted—very unsuccessfully—to repeat what she’d said.

“What are you doing?” She asked, confusion increasing.

The other tried to repeat that too. Wait, was he seriously trying to learn her language?

As one of only three members of her people who were multi-lingual, Atakarr knew just how hard learning a new language could be, and yet here was this guy thinking he could learn a language he hadn’t even heard a dozen sentences in. Who did he think he was?

The other was still trying to repeat what she’d last said, and with every attempt he made less sense than the last. It was beginning to get very annoying.

“Stop that,” she said.

He stared at her. ‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ she thought. Then he repeated that too.

Atakarr sighed. Why was she bringing him with her again?

“It worked,” the other exclaimed, in his own language this time, thank Koffa.

Atakarr turned to continue walking when she heard something that rooted her to the spot. In the other’s voice came words in her language, halting and badly pronounced but words all the same, “get... now?”

Atakarr stared at the other who was smiling, pleased with himself. “How?” was all she could bring herself to ask.

The other gave a one shoulder shrug. “I be gift,” he said, then he frowned, and in his own language added “no wait, that’s not right.”

As she watched the other who, it turned out, could learn to speak a language after hearing only a few sentences of it try to correct his grammar, Atakarr thought that it may be possible that she’d judged him too soon.