I walked out of the Commander's hall with every muscle tense.
They didn't raise weapons.
They didn't chain me up.
But every glance told me the same thing:
> "You don't belong."
And worse than that—
> They don't trust me.
---
I made my way back down to the lower level of Astera.
The warmth of the forge, the sizzle of meat on the grill, the sound of hammers — none of it felt like safety.
Not anymore.
People gave me space. Eyes followed me again.
I didn't realize how fast I was walking until I almost bumped into someone near the stairwell.
> "Ah—!"
I stopped.
A hunter stood in front of me, maybe my age — brown cloak over light armor, hair tied back in a short braid. Their armor wasn't standard guild-issued — lighter, modified. Worn from use.
They weren't part of the Commander's circle.
Just... one of the hunters.
But they didn't glare at me.
They smiled.
---
> "ᛋᛁᛚᛖ ᛏᚨᚲᛖ."
"ᚨᚱᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚩᚱᚨᚤ?"
Their voice was calm. Friendly. They raised both hands in a non-threatening gesture — almost mirroring the way I'd done in front of the Commander.
I blinked, still stiff.
> "I… I don't understand you. Sorry."
The hunter tilted their head.
Then, slowly, carefully, they reached into a small pouch and pulled out a strip of dried meat.
Held it out.
> "ᚲᛖᚲ?"
I stared at it.
They smiled again. Encouragingly.
I hesitated.
Then reached out and took it.
> "Thanks."
They nodded, even though they didn't understand me.
Then they motioned toward themselves.
Tapped their chest.
> "Kael."
Kael?
Their name?
I mimicked the motion.
> "Nurazam."
They blinked, trying to sound it out.
> "Nu…ra…zam."
Close enough.
Then they motioned with their hand — a soft sweeping gesture. Not a command, but an invitation.
They pointed to the stairs leading to the lower camp platforms.
Then back to me.
Then made a walking motion with two fingers.
> "Come with me."
---
I hesitated.
Was this a trap? A test?
But something about Kael's body language felt different.
Not curious like a scholar.
Not stiff like a Guild agent.
Just… someone who wanted to help.
Or at least didn't want to leave me alone.
So I nodded once.
And followed.
---
Kael led me away from the Commander's hall — down the staircases, past the armory, across the rope bridges that creaked beneath the ocean wind.
At first, I walked behind him, cautious.
But after a few turns, I realized—
> He wasn't leading me into danger.
He was giving me a tour.
---
He stopped near a forge.
The sound of metal on metal echoed around us, sparks flying. Blacksmiths yelled over the heat. The smell of iron and oil filled the air.
Kael pointed at a massive anvil and mimicked a hammering motion.
> "ᚠᛟᚱᚷᛖ."
Forge.
Then he pointed to the sword on his back.
> "ᚹᛖᚨᛈᛟᚾ."
Weapon.
He gestured to my side, where I had nothing — no blade, no armor, no item pouches.
He frowned thoughtfully.
Then pointed to the forge again and raised a thumb.
> "ᛋᛟᛟᚾ."
Soon.
I nodded, not understanding the words but understanding the rhythm. The effort.
Kael was trying.
And for the first time since I arrived here, someone looked at me without fear or suspicion.
---
He brought me to a wide balcony next, overlooking the canteen.
Hunters and Palicos gathered at long tables. Meat roasted over massive spits. Laughter carried over the sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling pans.
Kael pointed.
> "ᚲᚨᚾᛏᛖᛖᚾ."
He patted his stomach and grinned.
I smiled back. Couldn't help it.
> "Canteen."
Kael repeated it, clumsily.
> "Can… teen?"
I nodded.
Then I pointed at the ocean below the cliffs.
> "Laut."
He blinked.
> "Lout?"
I nodded again.
> "Sea."
He tried again.
> "See."
And just like that — something clicked.
It wasn't much. Just a few shared sounds. Simple gestures.
But it was something. A bridge between two people who shouldn't be able to understand each other at all.
---
Kael led me past a group of hunters testing weapons on target posts. He waved to them. They waved back. A few eyed me curiously, but none seemed hostile.
He motioned toward the weapon stalls.
> "ᚱᛖᛖᛞᛁ ᛋᚩᚩᚾ?"
Readying for something? A hunt?
He mimed drawing a sword and blocking a massive blow, nearly losing balance for comedic effect.
I couldn't help it.
I laughed.
Just once.
Kael grinned like that was his goal the whole time.
---
We ended up on the western lookout tower by midday — the sun overhead, wind cool off the sea. Kael leaned against the railing. I stood beside him, watching the clouds drift far above the jungle.
No words passed for a while.
But the silence wasn't awkward.
It was… calming.
Safe.
For once, I didn't feel like prey.
---
But as the wind passed over the mark on my arm…
I felt it twitch.
Just once.
Like a breath beneath the skin.
---
Kael and I stood on a quiet platform near the edge of Astera — the sea below us, wind rising with the morning sun. The buzz of hunters, smiths, and Palicos in the background never quite stopped… but here, it felt like the world had slowed just enough to let me breathe.
Kael watched me with a thoughtful look. Then they glanced toward a small training area nearby — wooden weapon racks, practice dummies, and an open floor marked with faint scrapes and scars.
They tapped the hilt of their sword.
Then pointed to me.
Then mimed swinging a blade with a light step forward.
A single word:
> "ᛋᛈᚨᚱ?"
Spar?
I blinked. Then gave a hesitant nod.
Kael smiled, not mockingly — just… calm. Patient.
They grabbed two blunted training swords and tossed one to me.
I nearly dropped it.
> Heavy.
The moment it hit my hands, I knew I was in trouble. I held it too tightly, too stiff, the grip foreign to my fingers.
Kael stepped into position, fluid and natural. I copied them — awkwardly.
---
We began.
The first few strikes were gentle. Kael didn't push hard — just tested me.
My swings were slow, wild, barely hitting the right angle. My balance slipped. I nearly tripped backward trying to parry.
Kael didn't laugh.
They just adjusted — less speed, more guidance.
But the truth was obvious.
> I was weak.
> I didn't know how to fight.
After only a few minutes, I lowered the sword, panting.
> "I… I can't."
Kael held out a hand, helping me sit down on a nearby crate. I dropped the blade with a heavy clunk beside me.
---
They sat beside me and rummaged through a satchel, pulling out something I hadn't expected: a flat wooden slate, blackened and smooth, like a portable chalkboard.
Kael flipped it open.
The inside was carefully organized — symbols etched alongside small doodles, with simple words written underneath.
Not Guild notes.
Not battle tactics.
> A teaching board.
---
Kael tapped the first symbol — a wave-like swirl beside a smiling face.
> "ᚻᛖᛚᛚᛟ."
"Hello."
Then pointed to themself.
> "Kael."
Then at me.
I blinked.
> "Nurazam."
Kael grinned, repeated slowly:
> "Nur-a-zam."
I nodded, impressed.
Then Kael tapped the next one.
> "ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚳᛋ."
"Thanks."
They mimed handing me something, then bowed their head.
I tried it.
> "Thanks."
Kael flipped to another one — sharp jagged lines.
> "ᛞᚨᚾᚷᛖᚱ."
"Danger."
They mimed a claw, teeth, snapping. Then pointed toward the jungle.
I nodded slowly.
> Yeah. That one I already knew.
Next came:
> "ᚠᛟᛟᛞ."
"Food."
Then:
> "ᛋᚨᚠᛖ."
"Safe."
Each word was slow, clear. Spoken, then mimed. Then repeated.
Kael wasn't just being kind.
They were teaching me to survive.
> My first words in their world.
---
Kael's chalk moved gently across the soot-darkened slate, carving out another word beneath the line of symbols we'd just practiced.
They looked at me, then tapped their chest — slowly this time. Eyes softer.
> "ᚠᛖᚨᚱ."
"Fear."
They mimed shaking hands, then pointed to their neck — like they were remembering what it meant to freeze.
I didn't have to act.
> "Fear," I repeated.
That word…
That one was easy.
I'd been living in it since I got here.
---
Kael nodded, then flipped the slate and drew a swirl with a straight underline.
They exhaled slowly and smiled.
> "ᚲᚨᛚᛗ."
"Calm."
They placed their hand over their chest, breathing in and out, motioning for me to try the same.
I did.
Breath in.
Hold.
Out.
Still here.
Still alive.
> "Calm," I echoed.
Kael gave a gentle nod and wrote again.
---
Next:
> "ᛈᚨᛁᚾ."
"Pain."
They pointed to their arm, tapped it, winced theatrically.
I chuckled. Then tapped my own shoulder — still sore from the earlier spar.
> "Pain," I said. "Yeah. A lot."
Kael tilted their head, smiled knowingly.
---
Then came time-related words.
Kael drew a circle overlaid with a sun.
> "ᛏᛟᛞᚨᚤ."
"Today."
Then a half-circle moon:
> "ᚾᛁᚷᚻᛏ."
"Night."
Then a jagged arrow forward:
> "ᛋᛟᛟᚾ."
"Soon."
> "Today."
"Night."
"Soon."
I repeated each word, slower than before — but clearer.
And somehow… it started to make sense.
---
Kael flipped the slate over and began drawing small figures beside the words — a person curled up, a person holding a sword, a hand over a heart.
Each time, they'd point to the word.
I'd say it back.
Fear.
Pain.
Safe.
Calm.
Not just words.
> Feelings.
> Survival.
---
At some point I looked up — the sun had drifted lower. Astera's shadows stretched across the floorboards. The distant clang of hammers had dulled. Evening was coming.
Kael leaned back, arms behind their head, satisfied.
I leaned forward, elbows on knees, and whispered:
> "Thank you."
Kael looked at me.
Smiled.
Then, slowly:
> "ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲᛋ."
"Thanks."
I smiled back.
---
The training session had left me trembling. My muscles ached. Sweat soaked through my shirt and down my back like hot oil. I wasn't built for combat, and my body made that painfully clear.
Still, Kael didn't seem disappointed. They hadn't laughed, hadn't scolded.
They just watched me for a moment, then gave a subtle nod — as if deciding something.
With a quiet motion, Kael pulled a small object from their satchel: a soft leather book, tied with frayed twine. It was worn at the edges, stained with soot and dirt, and surprisingly heavy in my hands when they offered it to me.
I stared at it.
Not a weapon. Not armor.
> A book.
Kael tapped the cover gently and said a word I didn't understand — but it sounded calm. Reassuring.
Then they pointed at the book again.
> "ᛚᛖᚨᚱᚾ."
Learn.
They were handing me a key. Not to fight, not to kill — but to live.
---
I untied the twine and opened it. Inside were rows of symbols, each paired with small ink drawings and — to my surprise — phonetic spellings. Kael must have written this for someone who didn't know the language.
The first page had a drawing of a smiling person waving.
Next to it, the rune:
"ᚻᛖᛚᛚᛟ"
> Hello.
Below it:
heh-loh
I looked up at Kael.
They smiled and repeated it. "ᚻᛖᛚᛚᛟ."
I echoed it slowly.
> "Hello."
My pronunciation was awful. My accent awkward.
But Kael nodded anyway. Encouraging. Warm.
---
As night fell over Astera, the lights of the outpost flickered to life — oil lanterns hung from wooden beams, soft firelight casting long golden shadows across the bridges and walkways. The smell of grilled meat and sweet fruit drifted from the canteen, mixing with the scent of ocean salt and drying leather.
Kael gestured for me to follow, and I did — clutching the phrasebook close like it was a lifeline.
We walked slowly.
---
Astera at night was different.
The chaos and movement of the day had quieted, replaced with the soft sounds of tools being cleaned, crates being stacked, the occasional call of a Palico as it padded past on small paws. The forge still rumbled far off, but it was subdued, like a heartbeat slowing at dusk.
Kael took me past the supply depot, where a merchant looked up at us from his clipboard.
He narrowed his eyes when he saw me — suspicion, maybe. Or confusion.
But Kael nodded to him.
> "ᚻᛖᛚᛚᛟ."
I took a breath and repeated it.
> "Hello."
The merchant raised an eyebrow. His gaze softened.
Then, with a grunt, he nodded back. "ᚻᛖᛚᛚᛟ."
Small. But it meant something.
---
At the canteen, a handler waved at Kael, then looked at me — confused, but not unkind.
I fumbled with the book, pointing to a word.
> "ᚠᛟᛟᛞ."
Food.
She laughed. Not mockingly — surprised. She walked over and handed me a roasted meat skewer, still sizzling.
I bowed awkwardly.
> "ᛏᚺᚨᚾᚲᛋ."
Thanks.
The handler beamed and walked away.
I bit into the meat.
Salty. Juicy. Real.
> I hadn't eaten like this in days.
---
Kael led me around the forge tower, across a narrow rope bridge, and toward a lookout post where the wind rolled in freely. We sat at the edge, legs dangling over the side, the moon casting a pale blue shimmer across the water below.
I flipped through the phrasebook as we sat.
> "ᛞᚨᚾᚷᛖᚱ" – Danger.
"ᛋᚨᚠᛖ" – Safe.
"ᚠᛖᚨᚱ" – Fear.
"ᚲᚨᛚᛗ" – Calm.
"ᛏᛟᛞᚨᚤ" – Today.
"ᚾᛁᚷᚻᛏ" – Night.
"ᛋᛟᛟᚾ" – Soon.
Each word etched itself into my memory. These were survival words. But they were more than that.
> They were connection.
---
The next few days passed slowly — and then all at once.
At first, I still got looks. Whispers. Cautious stares. Some people avoided me. Some asked Kael quiet questions when they thought I wasn't listening.
But I kept showing up.
I carried boxes.
I helped the cook wash dishes.
I fetched herbs Kael pointed out by hand motion and example.
I studied the phrasebook every night before I slept — under the soft flicker of a lantern flame, alone in the small bunk Kael had arranged for me near the outer barracks.
---
I learned to say:
> "I don't understand."
"Can I help?"
"Water."
"Where?"
And little by little…
People started replying.
Not always in full sentences. But they slowed their speech when talking to me. They smiled.
Some taught me new words.
One of the Palico cooks taught me how to say "burned" when I overcooked a stew pot and laughed so hard they cried.
Even the grumpy weaponsmith gave me a nod after I helped Kael stack ingots in the forge room — a small, silent acknowledgment.
---
I still wasn't strong.
Still wasn't a hunter.
But I was part of something now.
> Not just an accident.
Not just a survivor.
A presence.
And even if the monsters still roamed the jungle…
Even if I still woke sometimes in the night, sweating from memories of Deviljho's teeth…
There were hours now — full hours — where I forgot that I was lost.
---
I belonged here.
Even just a little.
---