When he did finally try to extract himself, it was an awkward, reluctant shuffle—scooting sideways in tiny increments like someone trying not to wake a sleeping puppy.

  “You could’ve just stood up,” Moose said.

  Ethan reached his pack, retrieved his boots, and stood with the exaggerated care of someone moving through a minefield.

  “She just got comfortable,” he said simply. “I didn’t want to wake her.”

  He pulled on his boots and adjusted his belt. “I should get moving. We need food, and I want to see if we can find more permanent lodging.”

  “I’LL WATCH THE PUP!” Pixie declared. “Auntie Pixie will handle everything!”

  She puffed up her chest like she’d just been knighted.

  “Actually, I think ‘Auntie Pixie’ sounds better than just ‘Aunt Pixie,’ don’t you? More professional.”

  Ethan smiled and gave her a nod.

  “Oh, and could you fill up the waterskin?” she added. “It’s really hard without hands. Also... we might need more milk and honey.”

  “She spilled it,” Buster muttered.

  “MOOSE AND DEFINITELY NOT ME MIGHT HAVE SPILLED MOST OF IT,” Pixie blurted.

  Moose sighed deeply but didn't contradict her.

  “I need to go shopping anyway,” Ethan said. “I’ll buy more just in case, but she is already eating bits of smoked meat and real food.”

  He had already carefully extracted himself from Amelia's sleeping form and grabbed his pack. Moose stood to join him, while Buster settled in for what looked like another nap.

  "You're coming too, Buster," Ethan added. "I need my numbers guy to help."

  Buster rolled his eyes dramatically. “Pixie and the cub need protection. We're outside the city walls. Anything could happen.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “What if a bear comes?” Buster asked flatly.

  “We don't even know if there are bears in this world,” Ethan said.

  Buster nodded. “You're right. There could be worse things.”

  Ethan paused, realizing Buster had actually made good points. It was getting harder to argue with them now that they were so smart. He always gave in anyway.

  “Fine,” he sighed. “Stand guard. But I'm not bringing you back any treats.”

  “You will,” Buster said.

  Ethan sighed again, knowing he was right.

  The general store was just opening as Ethan and Moose arrived. Garrick was arranging jars of preserves on a high shelf.

  “Well if it isn't our adventurer!” Garrick called out. “Feeling better? You looked half-dead when you came in for supplies after that wolf fight.”

  “Much better, thanks,” Ethan replied. “Need to stock up on some supplies. Also, I was wondering about housing in Virestead. We're looking for something permanent.”

  Garrick’s bushy eyebrows shot up, then furrowed. “Permanent? In Virestead?” He scratched his beard. “Not much here for that, I'm afraid. We've got the one inn that's more tavern than lodging. Couple of farmsteads outside town, but...”

  He shook his head.

  “This is a frontier post, son. People pass through. They don't settle unless they're farming or mining, and even then, most move on when they've saved enough. Real opportunity's in the cities.”

  Ethan's shoulders slumped. “I see.”

  “If it's stability you're after,” Garrick went on, “you've got options. Celdoras to the east is a good provincial capital. Then there's Rivermouth to the south if you prefer trade. Or if you're really ambitious, there's always the royal capital of Aldenreach—though I wouldn't recommend that without some experience under your belt. Check the Guild board for caravans heading out.”

  After purchasing milk, honey, rations, of course some treats, and other supplies, Ethan and Moose headed to the Adventurer's Guild. Ethan's mind was already turning over what Garrick had said about the cities.

  At the Guild hall, Ethan scanned the quest board. Most of the postings were local—pest control, herb gathering, minor monster hunting. He noticed a posting about goblins and was suddenly glad Buster was standing guard—but one notice immediately caught his eye:

  MERCHANT CARAVAN ESCORT

  Route: Virestead to Celdoras

  Duration: Five days by caravan

  Payment: 3 silver pieces per guard, meals and lodging included

  Risks: Moderate (Bandits, wild beasts)

  Contact: Durgan Ironheel at the Wayfarer's Rest

  Moose glanced toward the quest board, voice low but certain. “It seems our path is being laid out for us.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Rolan approached from behind his desk.

  “I see you've found the caravan posting,” Rolan said. “Durgan's a fair dwarf. Bit gruff, but reliable.”

  “What can you tell me about Celdoras?” Ethan asked.

  “Large city of the eastern province,” Rolan replied. “It is run by Lord Merrow under Baron Silvershield. Twenty times the size of Virestead, at least. Small Academy of Magic, Merchant's Guild headquarters, Royal Garrison. Good place for someone with your... unique situation. The academy might have answers about your class variant.”

  Ethan made up his mind. "I'll go talk to Durgan. Thanks, Rolan."

  The Wayfarer's Rest was less an inn and more a tavern with a couple of rooms upstairs for travelers too drunk to make it home. This early in the day, it was nearly empty—just a bored-looking server wiping down tables and a lone figure hunched over a ledger at the back.

  Even sitting, Ethan could tell the dwarf was sturdy. He had the broad shoulders and thick arms of someone who'd spent decades wielding both hammer and axe. His beard was a rich auburn shot through with silver, elaborately braided and tucked into his belt. Despite the early hour, a mug of something amber sat at his elbow.

  Moose hung back near the door while Ethan approached.

  Ethan tilted his head. “Durgan Ironheel?”

  The dwarf looked up from his ledger, shrewd eyes measuring Ethan in a single glance. Something flickered across his face—recognition of a sort, though they'd never met.

  “Aye, that's me,” Durgan said. “What can I do for ye?”

  “I saw your posting at the Guild,” Ethan replied. “Looking for caravan guards to Celdoras.”

  Durgan leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  “Aye, I’m lookin’. But I need folk who can handle themselves. Road’s not as safe as it once was.”

  His gaze narrowed as he studied Ethan more carefully.

  “Ye’re the one who took down that wolf pack, aren’t ye? Rolan mentioned somethin’ about an unusual tamer with multiple beasts.”

  Ethan nodded, not surprised that word had spread in a town this small.

  “What are they, then?” Durgan asked. “These companions of yours?”

  “Three dogs and a wolf cub.”

  Durgan’s bushy eyebrows shot up. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he seemed to be looking at someone else entirely.

  “A wolf cub?” he repeated, then shook his head with a wistful smile. “My younger brother Darmin was just like that. Always rescuing things that should’ve been left alone. Bringing home wounded creatures. Said everything deserved a chance.”

  He fell silent for a moment, lost in memory, before clearing his throat.

  “He’d have liked ye. Same look in the eyes, I think.”

  “What happened to him?” Ethan asked.

  “Mining accident. Five years past now.” Durgan took a quick swig from his mug. “When can ye start? We leave at dawn two days from now.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Ethan said. “What’s the pay again?”

  “Three silver pieces each upon arrival, meals included. Got six guards already—mostly locals, simple folk but they know which end of a sword to hold. You’d make seven, which should be plenty for this route.”

  He extended a calloused hand, nearly as wide as it was long.

  “Do we have a deal, then?”

  Ethan hesitated for half a second, then glanced toward Moose—alert and steady at his side.

  “Meals included… for the whole pack?”

  Durgan raised an eyebrow. “Aye, lad. I don’t expect beasts to guard my wagons on an empty stomach. They’ll be fed same as the rest of ye.”

  Ethan clasped the dwarf’s hand, feeling the strength in his grip.

  “We have a deal.”

  Durgan held on a moment longer than necessary.

  “I’ll see to it ye and your beasts have a spot on the caravan.”

  As Ethan and Moose left the Wayfarer’s Rest, the morning sun had climbed higher, warming the dirt streets of Virestead. Townsfolk were going about their business, nodding politely as they passed. The news of Ethan’s battle with the wolves had clearly spread.

  “Looks like we’re headed to Celdoras,” Ethan said.

  “A wise choice,” Moose replied. “There is nothing more for us here.”

  “Did you notice how Durgan looked at me?” Ethan asked. “Almost like he recognized me.”

  “He said you reminded him of his brother,” Moose said.

  “Yeah, but even before that. Right when we walked in.”

  Moose considered this as they walked.

  “People often see what they wish to see in others. Perhaps he sees his brother in many young men who cross his path.”

  They walked in comfortable silence for a while, Ethan turning over the events of the past few days in his mind. From being transported to this world, to forming bonds with his dogs, to fighting wolves and rescuing Amelia—his life had completely transformed in less than a week.

  “We’ve got two days to prepare,” he said finally. “We’ll need more supplies for the journey. We leave on Earthday.”

  Earthday? Ethan wondered. ”

  “And you require rest to recover your mana,” Moose added into the bond distracting Ethan from his musings.

  The mention of his depleted mana reserves reminded Ethan of Buster’s calculation: four days and seven hours of uninterrupted rest to fully recover. They wouldn’t be at full strength when the caravan departed.

  “I’ll just have to manage,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like I plan on upgrading any more currency anytime soon. Hey, why don’t we hit that smoked meat stall on the way back to camp.”

  Moose’s ears perked up at the mention of meat, though he tried to maintain his dignified demeanor.

  As they approached their campsite, Pixie’s excited barking greeted them before they even cleared the treeline.

  “Did you bring treats? How was town? Did you find a house? Amelia rolled over all by herself!”

  Ethan couldn’t help but smile as he knelt down to pet the excitable terrier.

  “Yes to treats, town was fine, no to the house, and that’s amazing.”

  Buster trotted over more sedately, nose already angling toward Ethan’s pack.

  “I told you you’d bring treats,” he said.

  Ethan rolled his eyes but dutifully pulled out a wrapped packet of dried meat strips.

  “We didn’t find a house because we’re leaving Virestead. I’ve signed on as a caravan guard. We’re heading to Celdoras in two days.”

  “A journey! An adventure! New smells!” Pixie shouted.

  “Wait, a caravan?” Buster said. “With other people? And what about the cub?”

  “The caravan master seems understanding. We’ll work it out.”

  He moved to check on Amelia, who was cautiously watching from the tent entrance. She still shied away from sudden movements, but she didn’t retreat when Ethan approached, which was progress.

  “Hey there, little one. How are you feeling?”

  The cub tilted her head, blue eyes watching him intently. While she couldn’t speak yet, Ethan could feel a jumble of emotions through their bond—curiosity, lingering fear, but most of all, a growing sense of trust.

  “You’re going to love Celdoras,” he said softly. “A real city. Maybe we can finally find someplace to call home.”