Nox slides under the cuff of my shirt, keeping out of the rain, while I splash through puddles, intent on shelter. I recall a ridge, large enough to shelter me, back at the scorched glade. The issue is, since I’ve blindly followed Nox between mushroom patches, I have no idea where I am.

  Rain continues to pour on me. The ground beneath me slickens, and I catch myself sliding across mud and stumbling over wet rocks. It’s as though the forest wants to drown me.

  I find my first candidate for shelter after soaking through my ragged clothes: a small overhang of bent trees. Underneath it, I find a dry spot, but it’s smaller than I am. And the wind that whistles through chills me more.

  I dash back into the forest, directionless. Nox continues to cower in my shirt, but I owe the critter shelter after it guided me to so much food.

  I careen through brush along the way, cutting my arms on thorns. I spot another shelter, an overturned tree—with huge roots branching like a thick spiderweb canopy.

  I slide into place under it, content with ignoring the drips of water that slither through the root network. The space seems comfortable enough. Compact dirt shaped like a half circle becomes my bed. The wind blows through, but with less intensity.

  [Detect Decay] decides to act up in this moment, with its passive close range sense pulsing in my head on repeat. I’ll need to grow accustomed to the sensation if I ever want to get sleep.

  But the throbbing doesn’t stop. I glance up and see a brighter glow of decay near the main root of the tree, from which the spiderweb of roots originates. There’s little light with the clouds rolling overhead, but I can see rot covering the main root. I’m surprised the whole trunk doesn’t collapse.

  Nox senses my observation and seems agitated. I concur and glance out at the rain, not ecstatic at the thought of the rain again. My options: sleep now and wake up with a downpour when the root crumbles, or find a better shelter.

  I make my choice. The rain greets me again, rinsing my face.

  The trek through the swampy forest floor proves no more pleasant than before. In the entire journey, I spot no living creatures, of any level. Not many would find the storm a delight.

  I’m soaked to the bone before I stop again, this time in surprise. I see an unnatural shape ahead of me. Something manmade stands a short distance away. A wood and stone structure, no larger than a hut or shed. Perhaps used for hunting, since I see nothing else in my misty surroundings.

  I trudge through what mud remains between me and the shelter, then stumble inside.

  It leaks in three spots, but is otherwise dry and comfortable. Six rudimentary beds line the sides of the hut: pallets of wood with hay strewn over the top. Stones lay haphazardly across the floor in the vague shape of a fire pit, and one bed’s wood has been pulverized, its hay dusting the floor around it. There’s a scent here I cannot place, originating from that corner.

  Nox climbs out to get a look at what I’m investigating. It cannot fly until it dries out, so I walk closer for a better view. The smell deters me some and I stop short.

  Nox hisses and buries itself back under my shirt.

  Somehow I need to learn beetle-talk.

  Nox hisses again from its hiding place and I glance around, then out the door, seeing nothing to be agitated about. Then thunder peels outside with a flash of lightning that casts a silhouette of a boar twice the size of me.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Mud Boar - Level 6

  A boar that can pulverize a wooden bed by sitting on it is not the opponent I want to set myself against. I rush toward the door. The crazy pig can keep the hut.

  But the boar charges. And it will reach the hut before I can get out.

  I have an instant to decide, so I cast about with [Detect Decay], looking for something I can use as a weapon. The skill magnifies with my extra mana. The pulses echo in my mind, louder than before. I struggle to distinguish the decay around me as I stagger back towards the far wall of the hut.

  A pulse thickens from behind. I turn and see a rotted section of the timber that lines the wall.

  The boar careens through the open doorway and rushes at me.

  I shift to stand in front of the rotten wood and the boar follows instinctively, then I leap away toward one of the pallets.

  The hog crashes into the wall and timbers split in half. The boar’s head and tusks have passed through the side of the hut.

  It thrashes, trying to free itself. Timber of the wall cracks and a section falls away, then another. It will escape soon.

  I start to rise when I stumble and fall on my face. My leg. A gash, long and deep, wide as one of the boar’s tusks. Blood pools on the floor.

  Another timber cracks. One cloudy eye of rage stares at me from a crack in the hut wall.

  I pull myself over to the boar’s hind legs. It tries to kick at me, but it cannot see me. I grab hold of its flank and [Leech Grip], pouring mana into a long drag of vitality. My leg knits up and I feel whole, but I wonder if I have enough mana to kill the beast.

  I push through the mana fatigue and drain as much as I can manage. Vitality courses through me, way beyond what I need to restore my strength. The energy builds inside me, like an overfilled wineskin, threatening to burst. The pressure begins to hurt.

  Keeping one hand leeching the beast, I push my other hand into the dirt floor and push, letting the overflowing vitality drain out. I sense relief as I channel the excess vitality into the ground. A sprout springs up between my fingers.

  The boar quiets when my [Leech Grip] ends. I pick myself up and see that its eye is closed, its body still.

  [Leech Grip] has reached Level 3.

  I could leave the shelter. Go out and find somewhere else to stay, but while I’m in relative safety I want to investigate this human structure. It’s the first evidence of people I have seen since my first memory of the dying robed man and the golden mages that burned me.

  The pallets look worn from use, the hay gives off a musty odor. I wonder if anyone has stayed in the hut for a long time, or if the boar is the new owner.

  Nox hisses and I knock my head against the wall. The sound of timbers snapping surprises me.

  The boar has freed itself. It must have played dead.

  A broken timber lies between me and the boar. There’s no doubt the log is too large for me to swing, but if I can position it at an angle, it can become a buried spear.

  I dart forward, but the boar is faster.

  It leaps over my head as I drop to grab the timber.

  I spin around in time to see it burst through the door of the hut, cracking the frame as it bounces through.

  My strength flees at this moment. I slump down against the would-be spear and rest my head. Nox decides to show himself now, tittering in its strange clicking tongue that means nothing to me. He displays his wings as he struts about on my shoulder. Maybe he’s proud that I’m proving a capable bond-friend. I may be reading into it more than is reasonable, but one does personify when lacking companionship.

  After resting far from the door and cracked timbers, I investigate more, looking for any remnants of humanity. No spearheads or dishes or any other manmade remnants of humanity. There remain some charcoal bits in the ruined fire circle.

  The hut has a stone foundation—a pile of interlocking stones at the base with timber stacked atop it. It’s on one of these stones that I notice carvings. Runes, my subconscious mind tells me.

  I reach out to feel the engraving of one rune, but pull back when I feel heat. The rune radiates heat, but I can only sense it when close. Not all that useful of a heating enchantment, if that’s its purpose. Maybe it was stronger when the hut was first built.

  I test the heat of the rune, reaching closer, almost touching it, but it feels so scorching I cannot. The sensation reminds me of my burned body only two days ago. I shiver.

  Despite my memory, I sleep by the runes, more content than ever—which says little since I only remember one day before this one. My dreams are of people, both good and terrible. An omen that frightens me more than it should.