Corvayne stood around for a good minute just looking between the land bridge between floating islands he was on, Wick who was tapping her all-in-one camera and phone, the floating blue plate-like islands with mountains in the distance, and the yellow sky beyond them in every direction around above and below him. Wick seemed excited to get some evidence of the paranormal: She was taking shots of things such as the dead splatter dogs, the weird landmasses, and Corvayne for scale on the creepy dogs size. Once she had taken a few dozen pictures and a short video, they shared water from Corvayne's canteen which was now nearly empty. At the entrance to the next island there was a pair of the monster dogs guarding what at first looked like another rolling valley with forests placed willy-nilly and blue mountain walls forming ridges.

A few spear strokes and they could take in a new and fantastic scene of what seemed to be multiple stacked islands: the landscape before them looked like someone had tilted an island one way, then punched a hole in it, then merged it to and punched a hole in the one they were standing on... forming a sort of series of drops for the water flowing along the landscape and a rough back and forth of land that would let them climb up, or follow the river past where it plunged into the open hole in one plate leading to the edge of the next layer down.

“We should look for a cave around here to see if there are stairs.” He spoke to Wick as she took a picture of the complex landscape before them. “Or perhaps if you see a stairway off to nowhere, follow it up.” He surveyed the plains again and spotted an area where smoke was rising: off near woods there was a crude wall put up, and he could see a patrol of small green figures carrying one of the paint splattered headless hounds back. Wick held her hand up to block out the yellow sky.

She must have spotted the same group. “We should be careful... They must use traps or something to catch those things.”

Her guess lined up with what Corvayne was thinking: the hounds were more dangerous and durable then the goblins by a large margin. In even numbers they'd probably rip the little green monsters to shreds.

Corvayne would rather not deal with either group of monsters. “Let's avoid everything if possible. Skirt the edge of the land here away from that village, and try to stick to the woods. If we play our cards right we might get out of here without another fight.”

After two hours and over a hundred assorted dead dogs and goblins later, Corvayne had to give credit for both species ability to see them sneaking whenever they were out in the open. His cloak helped him but Wick had nothing that assisted her in hiding. So it was a vicious cycle where they'd run into a small group of goblins and fight and kill them, then a grouping of two to four dogs would smell the blood or something and come bounding over, which made a racket so two goblin patrols would show up, which was a lot of blood and hollering that would pull another six pack of dogs over in a three way battle that Corvayne would walk away from then run into another patrol fifteen mintues later and start the process over, sometimes fighting so long the previous battle's survivors would stumble over to join in.

Wick's contribution included actually stabbing a goblin who was trying to stop her from climbing a tree and one that tried to climb up after her. With her mostly out of harms way Corvayne was free to fight however he wanted. It was much easier to run circles around his enemies when he didn't have to look after anyone but himself. He had taken a few cuts from the much faster dogs raking him but didn't feel the burning or stinging of poison that would make him worry about his flesh wounds.

After wiping his spear and boots clean of blood off on the grass, he poked a few goblins to see if they had any loot. No gold, no silver, nor copper coins, but he saw a few goblins with neck pouches. Opening them gave him a handful of rough emeralds, a few stubby rubies, and some stone coins. Those gems might be worth something, given that a lot of people were in the rock business in Cascadia.

Wick made her way down the tree, stepping around bodies. She stared at him. He could only imagine how gross he looked covered in his enemies blood. He looked at the carnage then at her. “Sorry, they just kept coming.”

She spoke slowly. “Do... do you need... a break?” She had a weird look on her face. Horror? Was she just tired? The dark circles under her eyes looked larger. Now that she mentioned it, he was coming off a battle high.

He gestured that he was going to keep walking but he also started looking for a place to rest. A few more minutes and they had made it to a section of stream running through woods, and Corvayne had burned a little more stamina to attempt [Cross Skill: Chop]. It worked and he used a few applications to make a few branches into sharpened staves, one he gave to Wick as a backup weapon and a walking stick so she wasn't wincing with her leg. He saw that where the stream fell onto the current island there was a pond on top of a rocky rise, maybe fifteen feet tall, with trees.

“If you don't mind a little more climbing, I think we can clear that ledge and take a break.” He wasn't sure they'd be totally safe from goblins but he figured the little monsters always yelled before attacking.

He climbed up first then got out some rope and helped pull Wick up. The platform had a few trees and bushes flanking a section of stream.

“If you want to get a nap in, I'll keep watch.” He purified a batch of water and offered the container to her and she drank it. Wick then sat on the sand against a rock and was asleep by the time the canister on the bottom of the purifier was full again. He drank all of it, then filled his canteen with the small output tube before screwing the container attached to the purifier back on and filling it one last time. Never knew when they'd get stuck without water.

He wasn't as tired physically as much as he felt like he needed to mentally decompress, so he went through his spear exercises and steps in a slow pace meant to keep his body alert rather then exert himself. He looked at his sleeping companion and felt himself smile. She had helped him out when he was totally alone, and being able to return the favor with skills he had worked so hard to obtain felt good. There was always an emphasis on selflessness in the village but it was delivered in a tone that made him feel greedy and selfish all the time, even though his entire goal in life had been to stay out of everyone’s way. In stories when the hero arrived at the big city they were wowed at first but found it colder then the backwater they thought they hated. A week in and he had a place to live, a friend, and now someone who was depending on him. If she didn't want to date him, well she still made him feel good. Honestly, watching her on stage the night before had been the first time he'd seen anyone get that animated. He had agreed to be her bodyguard, so he'd protect her. Simple as that. All the better that he wanted to do that anyway. It might be hard if she kept finding adventures, but how bad could it possibly be?

He cringed, nearly throwing him out of his exercises. He took a moment to take his shirt off and dip it in the stream, then tossed it on a rock. He was feeling better as he resumed going through the dances and stances, spear snaking out in both practical and artistic moves, stretching every muscle a would-be spear man needed. In his own mind he had broken the rule of the unsaid. How about instead of saying it would be easy and regretting it: he would rise to meet any challenges to her safety. Better. She was his second friend, though he still wasn't sure if it was reciprocated or if perhaps he was just a curiosity? Well, she said partner. And the context was of partners in crime, no doubt. He felt his shoulders un-knot. He would explore Cascadia and protect Wick. Maybe find someone who did want to go on dates! That might be a stretch. Still, He might have been a failure to the Watchers but...

The thoughts of home and of his pitiless father banishing him stung now. Not because he was mad at them for that act, but of the pointless cruelty his father and the rest of the villagers had inflicted on him when he had spent so long trying to meet their approval. How hard had he worked, how many years on getting beat by elders with all sorts of weapons, working from dawn to dusk to get stronger and faster and doing endless chores when they deemed him a failure... Well then they could all go blow hot rocks: he'd... he'd one day show them. He'd become a warrior they begged to come back. Not that he would ever do return. He'd never be back, and he doubted a single person in the village would think twice about him in a month. Never go back. Never. NEVER.

He stopped, focus wavering as he shuddered. His hand was shaking. He didn't know how long he had been in a flow state, but he was soaked in sweat. How long had he been going through forms? He found he was breathing too fast, feeling suddenly hot and uncomfortable. The stream looked ideal to fix that. He just took his boots off and walked into the stream. The sandy bottom was only two feet deep but he ducked into it then flung his head back out, spear and eyes ready for trouble in between splashing himself to cool off. It washed everything away, cooled it off, let it seep back inside where it couldn't bother anyone else. In a bit he felt in control and stepped out, drying his pants with a few stern taps to the leg. He sat down across from Wick.

She was dreaming, her eyes moving and mouth opening a little. He could see and hear sorrow at whatever was going on, and went over and put a rough blanket from his pack over her. She gripped it hard, but didn't wake. Hopefully it made her feel better. He dried off, put his shirt back on and kept tabs on quiet ledge they were resting on. He cleared his mind slowly as he absorbed everything around him. The noise of the stream, it's clear yellow water reflecting the sky like gold.

Some time later he heard Wick startle awake. She asked for some more water then they were ready to set off again. They needed to climb down then walk up hill to reach the lip of the next platform up. She took a few pictures of the stream then one of Corvayne.

Corvayne didn't think he merited a photo and couldn't help but ask “Why take a picture of me?”

“You are either a wizard or a cryptid. Either way, you are strange and I admit, interesting.” Wick took another one with a faux clicking noise.

She walked up next to him and flipped the screen around, holding her hand high so she could get his face and hers.

“I generally hate pictures of myself, but if you are not a wizard you might be an alien. Unexplained tech being magic and all that.” She snapped a picture while making the peace sign.

“I am a human like everyone else.” Corvayne noted, running a hand through his hair.

“HA! Exactly what an alien would say.”

They didn't even reach the next layer of land before they they found a cave with stairs going up. Corvayne lead the way through the faintly glowing tunnel and once more the surroundings totally changed from what they were previously: This time Corvayne could see a dense pine forest. The trees were clad in slightly brighter blue and red bark while the pine needles were a pastel set of colors that made the trees look sort of blue-green from afar. The path from the stairs lead them down hill from where they were standing into the vast line of trees between two blue mountains. It looked like there were no gaps in the ground from this vantage point. It was also cooler on this floor: He could see the high points had caps of snow.

Corvayne tightened his grip on his spear. The time he had to himself on break gave him a chance to think about his weird skills. He really wished he had thought to bring more weapons to try his skills with. Actually...

“Wick, are you attached to the flashlight you gave me?”

“Uh, it's a pretty expensive one even secondhand. Why?”

Corvayne realized again he had no idea what the value of it was. He assumed it was heavy because it was cheap. “Oh, I was considering I could use it as a club.”

Wick stared at him for a while. “... only if there's a good reason to, please?”

“No problem. Nevermind. Just a thought.” As usual, the moment he felt he was in control or had a good idea he set himself up to look foolish.

While the yellow sky was bright above, under the canopy of trees everything was dark yellow, almost amber under what looked like a gently glowing blue ceiling of pine needles. They lost their colors on the ground, and the bark of those red and blue trees was nearly black in the deep woods. The few non-pine trees were dropping leaves like it was fall, covering the forest ground with dried leaves and pine needles. The paths through the woods were clear despite being mostly under the trees. What kept them clear? Corvayne couldn't see the dogs and goblins cleaning them.

He had them move steadily down the packed dirt road, pacing himself to keep alert for possible threats from above and below. Coming to a fork in the woods, he simply followed the right fork. It would either send him in circles or lead him out.

The woods were... large and nearly silent. No birdsong nearby. Little more then a breeze to break up the sounds of them crunching on pine needles. It reminded him a little of the desert. Wick walked beside him, switching the knife between her hands whenever one got tired of holding it, the stick in the other. He wished he had a better way to have her carry it, but it wouldn't fit in those goblin pouches.

Wick broke the silence with a request. “Can we sit for a few minutes?”

Corvayne stopped and turned. “Sorry.” It had been... a while?

“Sorry. I'm... really not used to hiking for hours and hours.” She looked away as she spoke and Corvayne wondered if it was like the girls at the village who tried not to look at him because they found him offensive.

He kept himself neutral. “It's ok. I've never been in a place like this... I fear we may have to walk back from the park should we exit where we came in.”

He sat cross legged on a patch of hard dirt, and she followed his lead, sitting to face him.

Wick looked relieved and that made Corvayne feel better. She seemed to take a moment to consider what he had said about leaving the space they were in. “What about the bigfoot pack?”

If they didn't follow them in, then he couldn't see a bunch of monsters just waiting for them to pop out. Nor would they keep every bigfoot there: a large group of humanoids would need food right? Of course, one should be prepared for their enemies to do the thing you want the least, either by guile or by luck. “If they are just sitting around the stairway... I guess we kill a few and jump back in?”

Wick put her head down. “That's not reassuring.”

Corvayne winced internally. Wick wouldn't accept such a lame plan, he refined it in his head and tried again. “I think we assess before exiting. If you leave me alone with that pack for about ten minutes I can possibly kill them all.”

“You poked a few then ran last time!”

Corvayne looked at her. “I killed ten if they can't bind wounds. It was somewhat hard because I have to not endanger myself or run circles around them. My objective is to get you back home safe. If I had ten more minutes to hunt them properly, I could handle it.”

Perhaps he was being too confident: Wick looked incredulous. “Wouldn't you die if one of them hit you?”

“In the head? That would be possible. I didn't get hit previously. The only thing I was ever praised on was my thick skull, so it might be possible to survive a punch to the face. They are only as strong as they look, compared to most monsters which are far more dangerous then animals their size.”

Wick frowned. “Yes... well even if they are normal muscles they have muscles. More then you.” Of course, he was weak.

“Mine count more too.” Corvayne felt a little lame stating it, but it was strictly true.

It surprised him that Wick nodded and moved on from his disastrous first fight so quickly. “... Is that why you can do crazy things with your spear?”

He thought for a moment about it. “I don't know... I don't know how it works. I only was ever able to do one that was just me, being [Storm Thrust] and it took me many tries to focus the right way. Doing a bunch of them in a row with no issues is odd. Also some of them are just things you do with a weapon. For example: shield bashing isn't special, and I've done it hundreds of times to dummies or people I'm sparring with, but now? It's emphasized in my mind. And now I can do the same action, bashing with my shield, but instead it's a spear that doesn't have the surface area and sort of weight to it to properly bash, especially swinging it like a staff. And it certainly should not be able to punch three foot round holes in things if I hit them in the back, spear or dagger or anything else.”

She smiled. “Is that all I need to do to get you to talk... is ask you about weapons?”

He blinked at her. She was probably teasing him. “What else is there besides books and fighting? Oh. I like putting stuff back together. And I guess movies, I've seen seven with Grunt and so far six were good.” He didn't like the dramatic movie he saw where everyone ended up miserable. He did like you could work out while watching a movie, something much harder then with a book.

Wick kept looking at him with a warm smile. Once more he was sort of confused, as she had switched from dressing him down to asking to know more about him. Or had she been picking him apart? He had to admit he kept expecting the other shoe to drop. “Ok. Tell me about weapons when we walk, and your village.” She stood up and he strode along with her.

“Well, we are not supposed to talk to outsiders about it, but I am an outsider now and they tossed me out without asking for any favors and not doing me a single one. I got to Cascadia crossing the desert but it was a weird blur. It should have been at least a few months to cross the desert on foot, and it would have been taxing but not impossible: I trained for years out in the sands and could live out there for a long time. To me it felt like a few hours, then I stumbled thousands of miles to the edge of the desert.”

He heard her kick a pine cone. “Like lost time? And it was a blur?”

“I'd take a step then it'd pull me somewhere else in the desert, deeper and deeper. I was in a trance and when I woke I was here. I mean, Cascadia.” He sort of felt here was a part of Cascadia, but he wasn't sure why he felt that.

“Do you have other missing memories? Scars you can't explain?” Her voice had switched to a checklist interrogation of something.

“Uh, any scars I have healed over already. So no. As for memories, it might help to tell you what I do know, it might jog my memory. It's been spotty since I came out of the desert... I think.” He felt a pang of worry about that last part.

He walked and talked about things that happened in previous years. Growing up missing his mother. His father calling him a failure. The training sessions where he would be beaten around the arena by trainers. Being isolated by his peers, if not harassed about every mistake he made. Boys going out of their way to pick fights with him. The break from all that in the engineering shop with Spaces-Torn-Asunder. Learning to keep himself sane when he just wanted to give up. Trying to meet the standards set and failing every time. He spoke about how he had figured it out: The worst was being in bed in the morning, awake, and waiting for the alarm and knowing it was coming, that he'd have to get up and walk into the day on his own, and doing it, over and over. Over and over and over again. Every sun rise the dread about doing it again. It moved to training in the desert, and he found his tone shift. He had liked the long patrols, especially when it was solo. Just him and the sands, sometimes on a bike with the wind through his hair. The sun setting and turning the entire desert into gold for a few moments.

Wick broke his train of thought. “Were there other people you met? Outside the village? How did they treat you?”

“Oh, the traders? Hmm... I don't think I really spoke with them. They also were... covetous. Our main job when they came was to make sure they didn't steal anything they didn't trade for.”

He had to duck under a low branch growing out into the path that Wick just glided right under. “You didn't see any on the road when you left?”

“When I say it's a blur... I honestly can't remember it. It's weird because it takes a lot of understanding and attention to cross the desert safely.”

They started to round a bend. With how few turns there were he felt he was keeping a pretty good map of where they had been. He had always had a good sense of direction. He took a moment to look over at Wick and looked away when he saw her looking at him. Caught! She didn't comment on it, instead offering a theory on his displacement. “Maybe someone found you and drove you? If you were at the mines...”

Wick stopped a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Corvayne liked the pose she took, fist under chin with her other arm supporting her elbow as she looked down. Who was he kidding? He liked every pose she took. He had always wanted someone to talk to. Even if she turned out to not care that much about him, he enjoyed that she listened to him.

He stopped a few steps ahead of her and waited for Wick to finish her thought. She “It's at least a ten hour drive for any given mine into nothing but packed earth and dust... Was that where you were from?”

He didn't think they mined much out in the desert. They traded for raw materials by giving the traders trinkets. “Must be past that. Cascadia wasn't on the map I had.”

Wick laughed and started walking. “It's definitely on your map. It's not only the biggest city on this rock, it's the NAME of the rock.”

“So you live in Cascadia, on Cascadia?” Corvayne felt his lips tug up into a smile despite himself. “What's the name of the country, wait let me-”

She interrupted with a gleeful answer “New Seattle!”

Corvayne thought about that. “Never heard of any of those before this week. We must call it something else...”

“Was your village new?”

“About twenty years? Even if some of the people living in it were really old... it wasn't that new. It was founded after I was born. The oasis was there a long time, and I think there was ruins there too that we built on and over.” That's what he thought he had heard from one of the older kids.

Wick sounded like she was thinking aloud when she responded. “I don't think there's ruins on this world. The colony is a little over a hundred years old. Unless... were they alien ruins?”

He had read books about alien tech, but everything they used he felt like Spaces-Torn-Asunder knew how to make. What's more, alien ruins on the covers of books looked like exciting places. “I doubt it. The high tech stuff were all things we installed and maintained. I saw a drawing of the oasis before we arrived, it was just a bunch of stone buildings. Maybe the Magus's quarters were older?”

“What year were you born?” She picked up a rare non pine leaf a mix of sky blue and pink, and stuffed it in her pocket.

“Uhh... I think I'm 24 winter solstices old. I know some places have a calendar...”

Wick was staring at him. “So you have no idea... Are you a freaking time traveler?”

“I might be a cultist, there was a weird wizard imprisoned in our town. Or our town was keeping people out of his way, I don't 100 percent know. Look, I don't know what year it is.” It felt like the forms all over again. He didn't have any of the information he needed.

Wick's usual scratchy voice softened. “It's either CY 465 or around CE 2900 something if you're a weirdo who never switched after the collective formed.”

“Neither rings a bell.” He muttered, her attempt to help him making him feel dumber.

“You guys don't talk about what year XYZ happened?” Wick waved her hands around as if she was looking for the right words.

“Everyone in the village aside from the few kids younger then me were all alive when anything that ever came up, came up. And no one talked to me. About anything.” He calmed himself down as he spoke, smoothing his reactions and feelings out.

Wick seemed to have seen something he couldn't control in his face or tone. “It's okay Corvayne. Don't get upset. It sounds like you were trapped in a bad place. It might have been a cult. You're safe here with me.” She reached out and squeezed his hand and he felt dumb now because it made him feel better to have her tiny hand there.

He stopped and pointed at a pack of boar sized furry slugs tearing through the layer of pine needles on the ground, homing in on them. Wick stepped behind him and cleared her throat.

“Correction, you're emotionally safe.”

Six dead slugs later, they resumed their conversation.

The furry slugs only way to fight was to try to ram someone and they had no real armor. Corvayne had finished the battle with two [Flows Like Water] applications, sticking the entire pack of 6 with deep gouges. Three bled out without needing any further damage. The others had trouble getting at him when he zigzagged through the trees, stabbing whichever slug was in the front. In total the fight was a minute of his time from his first step at them to the last one falling still. He did see on one of the dead slugs that had flopped over a grasping mouth on their bottom which, he supposed, would be dangerous to someone knocked over with no assistance. Anyone else there armed with a knife would be able to simply kill the large soft monsters.

Wick was agitated when she started speaking again. “No I mean, it's total BULLSHIT. They isolated you, tormented you, and when you didn't conform or give up, they kicked you out, right?” Wick accepted his help getting out of the tree, using his hand as an extra step before hopping to the ground.

Corvayne didn't think it was that deliberate. “No no... I broke the main rule which is don't bug the wizard.”

She nodded. “The wizard is the cult leader. It happens a lot to groups-”

He interrupted to try to save her some time. “My dad was the leader. The wizard is just a wizard who lives in a rock. He did actual magic, like making things appear and so on. I broke into his place and talked to him, and he told me I had to go gather people or something. It seemed like he just wanted me to go away. So my dad found out immediately and told me to leave by morning.” Anger flared again. Why? It shouldn't bother him.

Wick frowned. “And you crossed the desert to come here? I can try to find your village, maybe we can report them...”

“I would not advise it. The village is an insanely well defended compound even if it appears simple. Supposedly anything that puts it's first foot on the desert is close enough to be watched. That's how my father put it to traders. Whatever they are doing out there... just let it be. They wanted me to be a warrior or whatever but I was washing out. Never good enough.”

Wick gave him a disappointed look. “Ok. I won't go there, but could I find it via satellite?”

“Maybe?” He looked up at the yellow light streaming in between the pastel pine needles while trying to remember the map. “It's at an oasis almost smack in the middle of the desert, you know, a rough square around it. There's coast north of the desert but no settlements along it. ”

He saw Wick shake her head before she responded. “Uhh, I thought the desert was just a swath out to the other ocean, sort of shaped like a pear..”

“If you have a map I'll look and point it out. The scale was thousands of miles. Err, do you have a map of the whole world? I know you have a space port.” He wanted to see that too. The idea that he might get on a space ship was wild to him. The traders had used beasts of burden every time they came by, which was not a good sign for attempting to find passage to put a few planets between him and his village.

Wick stopped to stare at something in the woods then shook her head and kept walking and talking. “Many worlds. But yes, when we get back we can look.”

He walked for another mintue of silence before he got the courage to speak up again. “Your turn. Tell me about yourself.”

Wick responded like she had been rehearsing for a year. “21 but I feel old as hell. I ran away from home when I was 15 and worked as a programmer on and off since then.”

That told him a few things but raised another question. “What happened?”

“Bad situation.” She stopped walking for a second, taking a deep breath through her nose with her eyes closed.

“Anything I can help with?”

Wick opened her eyes. “Probably not. No. I'm fucked up and there's no fixing it. I sometimes talk to Mister I but it's mostly just about treating the symptoms of... something.” Wick took another sharp breath then slowly returned to normal breathing, all the while staring ahead. “I'm okay.”

“Sorry. I shared because I wanted to. I can't ask you to do the same if you don't.” Corvayne waited for her to start walking, looking around the woods for signs of anything out of place, basically looking anywhere but Wick.

“It's ok. I got a few... friends and I've carved out a little place for myself.”

She started walking after that and was quiet for a while.

Corvayne lead the way. A bird somewhere close to them had started chirping, and that noise helped make the otherwise nearly empty forest feel a little less oppressive.

“You said there was a wizard at your village, right?” She asked, breaking a few minutes of them making no other sounds save the steady rhythm of their boots on dirt.

“I'm pretty sure he was. He did things like summon mirrors that could spy on things, made clouds that changed shape with his pipe... he seemed half insane and gave me a sort of never-ending weird quest.”

“Hmm. And he gave you a quest?”

Corvayne wasn't really sure if quest was the right word. It was a very vague request. “He wanted me to fight magic users. And invaders from another dimension.”

“And did you accept this quest out of hand?”

He smirked a little bit. “Actually I told him I'd think about it. I sorta figured he was just blabbing whatever came to mind.”

Wick was thinking. “Maybe this Magus fellow could help me.”

“With what? I mean... we can go get any number of dead bigfeet once we go back to the clearing.” As long as she didn't mind spear related damage to the bodies.

Wick laughed a little then shook her head. “No no, I mean that's GOOD but the whole point is I'm trying to figure out what's going on under the hood in the universe. This stuff that gets pushed off to the side because it doesn't make star ship engines run cheaper has been perpetually ignored.”

“Well... the people in the village seemed to have way more esoteric interests then most of the people I've met in Cascadia, present company excluded. You'd get a kick out of Spaces-Torn-Asunder. He always talked about folding dimensions and even showed me a few tricks.”

She stopped walking. “You're talking about wormhole transit, right?”

“No no. Proper folding. Wormholes are just sort of a bunch of old folds laying around that you can punch open easier.”

“Corvayne... do you... can you make a warp drive?”

“Of course not! Unless you mean a fold drive? They are totally different from warp drives. A warp changes the entire ships XYZD value and I barely get the overview of how that happens. A fold drive just pinches space a little to skip around. Easy to make it's just a matter of powering a big one and having good info on where you're going.”

“Do you-” She looked around for any furred slugs who might have heard her then lowered her voice. “... Do you have ANY idea how many people would kill maim and torture for a working drive that did any of those things?”

Corvayne once more had blurted something in extreme ignorance that set her off. “Uhh... I thought that's what you guys... that's what we used? I mean, some guy in a shed out in the desert had a bunch of actual warp drives laying around. He put one on a piece of metal and made a sand sled so you could loop and slide down a particular hill...”

She was clutching her head. “You were using a warp drive with no hull to save kids the trouble of running back up a hill!?!?”

He couldn't help himself. “A sled doesn't need a hull Wick, the hill wasn't that high.”

It took her a moment. Her eyes widened.

“You just made a joke!” she shouted probably a little too loudly.

There was a tense moment as they both looked around in the woods. No sign of any more monsters. This floor seemed far less dense in monsters then the other two.

Corvayne was pleased it seemed to wipe away her previous frustration with him. “You are right though, we had warp drives on adult sand sleds too. A fun way to surf the dunes.”

He stopped talking when she gripped his arm hard, tugging him. “You must NEVER tell ANYONE about this. Not a soul. You shouldn't have told me. Play VERY dumb about fold drives. Unless you're ready to personally take on an army and are also willing to doom your village. Do you understand?”

“So you guys don't have warp or fold drives? You just rely on wormholes? Oh that's gotta be... expensive to do.”

“Yes it's extremely expensive even after years of streamlining and developing better impulse drives, you are still talking in the tens of thousands of credits for even a short trip of oh two weeks.”

Corvayne checked his pocket. After a week of working he had about 100 credits to his name. Granted, some of that work went into renting in the warehouse and food. Lots of it went to food.

“Ok. Well thanks Wick. I'll be careful about that.” Good thing she was here, he really dodged an face full of melt-worm acid on this one.

“You NEED to be. You have no idea what The Collective can do when it puts it's mind to it. Or anyone else who realizes you are a clueless ATM just wandering around waiting to be kidnapped.”

He winced “Sorry I... I won't mention anything about the village to anyone else. I'll just say it's my weird desert cult.”

Wick's expression softened. “Sorry, no offense. If you leave that stuff out, nobody would care... There's just a lot of really dangerous people out there and you seem... very nice and trusting.”

Corvayne just gave a quick shrug. “None taken. I mean, I just don't like being called names.” Especially by Wick.

He couldn't figure out why she spoke urgently after that comment. “I'll try really hard. I'm abrasive. I sometimes can't help it. I don't blame people who don't like me.”

The idea anyone wouldn't like Wick gave Corvayne a jolt of indignant anger any anyone so foolish. He did his best to sooth out his previous complaint before she got angry at him. “I enjoy your company and will do my best not to get stressed when you are inevitably frustrated with me.”

“So we both have some things to work on with regards to not talking. We good?” Wick offered her hand.

Once more he didn't quite get it, but took her hand. “I think we are both good people.”

“You are going to be a project. But yeah. Let people think they got you figured out, pick your friends, and keep your head down and nothing bad happens. It's why I like old town Cascadia. The stakes are low.”

They had begun walking uphill and Corvayne saw the first signs of non-goblin civilization: a half collapsed stone wall. The endless lines of trees resumed, then was broken a few minutes later by a small stone house, trees growing out of the empty shell. More houses dotted the woods ahead, many just a wall and a pile of stones. Corvayne's stomach was growling, which was unusual given it had only been half a day since he ate. Perhaps using all those absurd moves didn't just tire him out, but also burned calories. He took one stave he had been holding onto and held it like a javelin. Corvayne slowed his pace then saw what he was looking for.

With a sudden snap of his hand he managed to skewer a large rabbit... or something like a rabbit-snail. This caused Wick to jump nearly a foot into the air and Corvayne felt a little bad for startling her. Dawn had told her that Wick had trouble trusting people. It might have helped if he had warned her. Something to work on. Back to the rabbit: He had hit it in the neck which was lucky, as most of the critter was crammed into what looked like a wood shell. He hung it on a strap of his pack, and kept going.

Wick pointed to his belt. “You're going to eat that?”

Corvayne glanced at the rabbit. “It's not enough fat but yes.”

She looked at him and he heard her stomach growl as well. He could fix that.

It took him six throws to kill two more critters. One was like a flightless bird with feathered tentacles that charged at him when he missed setting up an easier second throw with another sharpened stake. The other critter very small boar that turned invisible when he missed the first one he had seen. The second wasn't able to hide and dodge, and became part of dinner. He had food, now shelter.

Walking another couple of minutes along the road he saw another ruined stone home, this one two stories and in better condition. There was part of a wall about waist high boxing in a grown over yard area. There was still a roof on it made of wood and moss covered tiles. Only one hole, but the beams holding the roof up were still straight. He only needed to chop down one tree growing in front of the door to get inside. There was a stairway to nowhere, the second floor had rotted away, explaining the debris covering the first floor and the layer of dirt. There was enough flat space where the stairs changed direction to lay out a bedroll on the landing. His feet might stick off, but it beat laying on the forest floor. On top of the landing there was an intact fireplace with an old blue-teal metal grate for cooking on.

He also noted there was a wooden chest in a corner of the home, out of place for how it hadn't rotted away. But given the tree growing in the door and that it was too big to fit through the small windows, it must have been there at least a year or two.

He would save looting for later, first he cleaned the kills, removing the shells, fur, and feathers. Wick decidedly sat facing the other way. “If I look I won't be able to eat it.”

She then noticed the chest in the corner and Corvayne called out to her “Don't touch it... we don't know if it's a trap or even a mimic.”

Wick scooted to the other end of the house, looking at it now like a bomb. Which it might actually be. “Shouldn't we find that out first?”

“After I cook. Just yell if it comes alive or opens and starts spewing gas or something.”

He took the tree he had cut down and chopped it a few times, then used some flint from his pack to start a fire with broken branches and shavings. He added more wood while taking the unwanted innards and skin from the kills outside and hurling it to the other side of the path. He wasn't going to mess with scraping the pelts at this stage of the game; unless this place had a lot of floors and winter came it just wasn't worth it.

He gave Wick his bedroll and blanket for the landing and got to properly cooking his kills. The tentacle bird was by far the best haul: Lots of meat and the arms were basically all muscle. He used a little water to help wash the gunk off his hands and into the brush outside. He then used a pair of his staves to rotate the meat on the grill while walking outside to chop another thin tree down, piling a few small logs outside the door and making skewers out of a few branches. The boar and rabbit were done, crispy black and red meat dripping. No stranger to eating his way through the wilds he had a small pouch with salt he sprinkled on the meat as he finished cooking it. He also took the bird tentacles off, letting the rest of the fat bird cook a little longer. Wick was sitting on the stairs staring at the fire so he offered her the rabbit. He didn't have a proper plate but using wood skewers worked in a pinch. Corvayne took a bite of the boar and glanced outside: the woods were getting darker. He was shocked when the little boar tasted phenomenal. It should be gamey... was it's blood barbecue sauce? Looking over, after a tentative first bite Wick was attacking the rabbit. He offered her water and she took a long sip. Tomorrow he'd have to find another stream or they would be out of water by noon.

She actually stated what he was about to say “We should stay here for the night.” He nodded as he turned the meat over the fire.

Wick had finished most of her rabbit and was nibbling on a tentacle she had liberated from his other hand. She chewed then swallowed before talking again.

“How long have we been in this place? Does it feel like 14 hours? My phone is guessing about that.” She showed him, the tapped it back to off.

Corvayne shrugged. “This layer I have yet to see a stairway, present house excluded. But going to the top didn't change where we were, so I think we look for a cave or something.” He finished the boar and tentacles and had pulled the bird out and noted that it tasted amazing as well, like it had soaked itself in beef stock and been eating garlic all day before it got caught. He offered some to Wick who took a bite and looked shocked.

“I've eaten wild game before... but this tastes like a four star chef made it...”

“I've never tasted monster this good either. Most of the time it's like stringy chicken. It's probably a good sign that it tastes excellent.”

He declined to share that stringy chicken was far better then some monsters who's edible innards were goopy handfuls of bitter slime with bits of shell mixed in.

Corvayne ate just about everything he had made, feeling full and a little tired. There was still a dessert waiting however. After he came back from tossing the leftover scraps of bone and gristle across the path and into the deep brush, Wick was already crouched on the stone floor looking at the chest. She looked up pleadingly. He grinned. “Let's open that sucker up.”