Garrick's General Store looked just as it had the day before—a two-story wooden structure with a wide front porch and colorful pennants hanging from its eaves. The hand-painted sign featuring a crossed hammer and boot swung gently in the afternoon breeze.

  Ethan pushed open the door, hearing the same cheerful bell that had announced his arrival yesterday. Inside, Garrick was helping a farmer with a selection of seeds, but his booming laughter cut off abruptly when he caught sight of the blood-soaked newcomer.

  "By the gods!" the large shopkeeper exclaimed, his ginger beard swinging as he turned fully toward Ethan. "What happened to you, lad? You look like you've been through a meat grinder since yesterday!"

  "Wolves," Ethan replied simply.

  Garrick's eyes widened further when he noticed the sleeping wolf cub in Ethan's arms. "And you brought back a prize, I see." His expression was a mix of surprise and something like begrudging respect.

  "The little one was orphaned," Ethan explained, shifting the cub slightly.

  "Course it was," Garrick replied, though his tone held no mockery. He quickly finished with his customer before turning his full attention to Ethan. "Good to see you again. It was Ethan, right? Rolan has been talking about you since yesterday. We met at the tavern for drinks. You seem to be the talk of the town."

  As Ethan began browsing, his eyes caught something extraordinary on display in the corner—a tent, but unlike any he'd seen before. It was set up as a demonstration model, about the size of a small room, but next to it sat its packed form: no larger than a child's toy cube.

  "What's that?" Ethan asked, pointing.

  Garrick followed his gaze and grinned. "Ah, spotted our dimensional tent, did you? Clever bit of magic from the Traversi Trading Company." He jerked his chin toward the front windows. "Came in with Durgan’s resupply this morning. Folds up to practically nothing but gives you a decent shelter. One silver piece and three silver bits—pricey, but worth every bit for travelers."

  Ethan approached it with fascination. After last night’s cheap little tent bowing and slumping the moment three dogs decided it was theirs—and after sleeping on bedrolls that felt more like thin mats than bedding—this looked like an actual solution.

  "How does it work?" Ethan asked.

  "Dimensional magic," Garrick explained, walking over to demonstrate. "Same principle as dimensional bags, though those are much more complex. A basic bag starts at a gold piece, and that's a cheap one. The really large ones that could fit a house or two? Those'll cost you platinum pieces."

  Ethan's eyes widened as he watched Garrick collapse the demonstration tent with a few practiced motions. It seemed to fold into itself impossibly until it was no larger than his fist.

  "They're everywhere now," Garrick continued. "Traversi's got trading posts in all five kingdoms. Common enough that bandits don't usually bother with them anymore—too many around to be worth much in theft."

  Ethan picked up the collapsed tent, turning it over in his hands. Room for himself, his three companions, and now the wolf cub, without hauling around canvas that threatened to quit on him.

  "I'll take it," he decided immediately.

  "Good choice," Garrick nodded approvingly. "Oh, and before I forget—found a buyer for those odd clothes of yours from yesterday. I’m going to come out very well on that deal too." He winked. "Those what did you call them… kay-go pants. Those especially caused a stir."

  Ethan felt a pang of loss. "They are called cargo pants. Like putting ‘cargo’ on the back of a wagon… I loved those pants."

  "Ohhh cargo. I get it." Garrick chuckled, then leaned in a little, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Here’s the thing, lad. Most folk see pockets and think convenience. My appraisal skill sees a row of little bags already built into the cloth, each one sealed shut with that metal-tooth track. That’s not how our clothes work."

  He spread his hands as if he couldn’t help himself. "I bagged the pants with the pockets the moment you left. Sold a few pockets as curiosities to a seamstress and a trader, and I let a blacksmith study the zipper teeth for an hour until he started muttering to himself. But I kept some back. If I can get a rune-worker—or a dimensional mage—to look at those pockets and that fastening, they could turn into real storage pouches. That kind of work can pull gold pieces in the right market."

  Garrick’s grin widened again. "So yes, I’m being generous today. I’m still coming out ahead."

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  He clapped Ethan lightly on the shoulder, then laughed. "How about I knock a bit off your total today? Seems only fair since your strange clothing helped fill my coffers."

  After selecting his new clothes, Ethan looked around awkwardly, holding the bundle.

  "Need to change?" Garrick asked, gesturing to a curtained alcove in the corner. "Most folks don't like walking around town covered in blood. Bad for business."

  As Ethan ducked behind the curtain to change, he called out, "You know, I usually go on at least a few dates before I keep getting naked for someone."

  Garrick's booming laugh filled the shop. "That's a good one!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Tell you what, I'll throw in some rations too. Consider it me buying you dinner first."

  Both men chuckled at the joke as Garrick added a package of dried fruit, smoked meat, hard tack, and hard bread to Ethan's purchases.

  Meanwhile, Ethan's attention was caught by a small wooden crate near the counter. Inside were several smooth, oval stones with faint blue veins running through them. He recognized them immediately—fire stones.

  "How much for these?" he asked, picking one up and examining it.

  "Fire stones? Three copper pieces each," Garrick replied. "Just like the ones you got yesterday."

  Ethan turned the smooth stone over in his hand, thinking about how the blue veins had glowed when he'd pushed his mana into it. The resulting flames had been far more intense than he'd expected.

  "I'll take all of them," he said immediately.

  Garrick raised an eyebrow. "All eight? Most folks just grab one or two."

  "They're useful," Ethan said simply. "And inexpensive for what they do." Especially with his unusually high mana capacity, though he kept that thought to himself. At just three copper pieces each, these stones were an incredible bargain. He had seen firsthand how powerful they could be—and not just for starting campfires.

  As Garrick put the fire stones into a small leather pouch, Ethan spotted another wooden crate beside it. This one contained similar oval stones, but with pale blue veins running through them instead of the fiery orange-blue of the fire stones.

  "What are those?" Ethan asked, pointing.

  "Cold stones," Garrick replied. "Work on the same principle as fire stones—push mana through them and they create a cooling effect instead of heat. Same price too, three copper pieces each."

  Ethan picked one up, feeling its smooth surface. "And people use these for...?"

  "Cooling drinks mostly," Garrick chuckled. "Though healers use them for fevers and swelling too. Some folks with bigger homes have special boxes lined with them to keep food fresh longer."

  Ethan immediately thought of his morning coffee back home—how he'd always let it get cold because he'd become distracted. "I'll take a few of these too," he decided, selecting three from the crate.

  "A man who appreciates temperature control," Garrick nodded approvingly as he added the cold stones to Ethan's growing pile of purchases.

  As his companions explored the shop, Pixie bounced excitedly around a display of blankets and bedrolls. "These smell WAY better than the ground!"

  Ethan didn’t argue. The bedrolls from yesterday had started fraying at the seams faster than they had any right to.

  "Don't get too attached," Ethan warned through their bond. "We're on a budget."

  "That orange one looks particularly comfortable," Moose mused, eyeing a rust-colored blanket. "And practical. The color would hide dirt well."

  "Since when do you care about fashion?" Buster snorted.

  "It's not fashion," Moose replied with dignity. "It's practicality."

  Ethan added several bedrolls to his pile of purchases—including the rust-colored one Moose had admired, which drew a satisfied huff from the old dog.

  As Garrick tallied up their purchases, he disappeared into a back room and returned with a small ceramic jug of milk and a clay pot of honey.

  "Goat's milk," he explained, setting them on the counter. "Fresh this morning. And wildflower honey from the hives outside town." He reached beneath the counter and produced a small waterskin with a narrowed leather spout. "Farmers use these for orphaned lambs and kids. Should work just as well for your little wolf there."

  As Garrick tallied up their purchases, the dimensional tent took up most of the cost, and everything else piled on fast. Fire stones. Cold stones. Bedrolls. New clothes. Milk and honey. Hard tack and dried meat for the road.

  When Garrick named the total, Ethan counted out what he had and felt his stomach drop. He came up short.

  Garrick watched him do the math, then leaned an elbow on the counter. “How much do you have, lad?”

  Ethan told him, pushing the little stack forward anyway.

  Garrick nodded once, like it was exactly what he expected. He slid two copper bits back across the counter. “Keep those. You’ll want something hot to eat later, and I’m not sending you out with an empty belly and a cub to feed.”

  Ethan blinked. “I don’t have enough.”

  “I know,” Garrick said, matter-of-fact. He swept the rest into his side of the counter without hesitation. “Call it part of the deal from yesterday. I’m still coming out ahead on those pockets and that strange cloth of yours, even after I do right by you today.”

  He tapped the folded cube tent on the counter. “That tent alone is worth every bit. You won’t regret it.”

  Ethan nodded slowly, then tucked the two copper bits into his belt pouch, relief and suspicion wrestling in his chest the whole time.

  "I'll throw in some extra jerky for your companions," Garrick added, placing a paper-wrapped package atop their supplies. "They look like they've earned it."

  Buster's ears perked up immediately at the mention of jerky, his earlier complaints about his injuries suddenly forgotten.

  As Ethan gathered their purchases, Garrick leaned across the counter. "Word of advice," he said, voice lowered. "Some folks in town get nervous about beasts. Especially wolves." He glanced meaningfully at the sleeping cub. "But the market square has an old forge at the far end—blacksmith named Lydia. She doesn't care much what others think. Might be worth paying her a visit if you need any metalwork done." He tapped one of the boar tusks poking out of Ethan's pack. "Could make something useful out of those."

  Ethan nodded gratefully. "I'll keep that in mind."

  With their new supplies bundled up and the milk and honey carefully secured, Ethan and his companions headed back out into the afternoon sun. The dimensional tent, remarkably, added almost no weight to his pack despite its size when expanded. This new magic-aided convenience promised a far more comfortable camping experience than he'd anticipated.