The night is silent when I hear the sound of a stone rolling across the floor. My eyes snap open, heart pounding in my chest. My hands instinctively reach for the spears lying beside me, fingers wrapping tightly around the shafts. In one motion, I rise to my feet. My eyes struggle to pierce the darkness, but the faint glow of dying embers paints the outline of a figure inside my cave.
I lunge forward, spears in hand, and press them against the intruder's throat, forcing them back against the wall. Breathless, I narrow my eyes, and then I recognize her. The woman. The one who had whispered gratitude to me the day before.
Confusion rushes over me. Slowly, I pull the spears back from her throat. She doesn't flinch. Instead, she takes a quiet step toward the entrance, her silhouette framed by the shadows. I hesitate only a moment before slipping outside, scanning the bushes and the treeline for movement. Darkness presses in around me, thick and heavy. Nothing stirs, no threat, no attack, no sound but the wind whispering through leaves. The silence is absolute.
I return inside, cautious and tense. She is there still, moving slowly, her curiosity guiding every gesture. Her hands trail along my fur cloak, testing its texture. She bends near the fire, running her fingers through the faint warmth of the flames. She presses her palms against the pillow I made from woven plants, squeezing as though she wants to know its secrets. Her hand glides across the horns fixed on my helmet, tracing their shape. Every motion she makes is deliberate, almost childlike in wonder. I watch her, my body rigid, my thoughts swirling. Is this real? Am I dreaming? If it is real, then why has she come?
I cannot contain myself. The question slips from my lips: "Why are you here?"
Before I can say more, her finger presses softly against my mouth. A silent command: hush. The touch sears into me, hot, intimate. It is the first true human touch I have felt since I awoke in this world. Something inside me ignites. Excitement mixes with confusion, and my pulse hammers in my ears.
She finishes her quiet exploration of my belongings, then turns and steps closer. She stops directly before me, so close that one breath could close the distance between us. Her eyes never leave mine; she blinks rarely, as if afraid she might miss something. Her hands rise, sliding over my shoulders, then my face. She tests the shape of me, exploring as though she is mapping unknown land. Her hands move down, fingers pressing against my chest, feeling the tension of the muscles. She squeezes as though she wants to measure my strength.
Her hands drift further, tracing along my abdomen, pressing against my stomach. I feel her weighing the solidity of my body. I realize she is testing me, studying how strong I am, how durable. My breathing grows heavier, my body locked in place.
Then, without breaking eye contact, she finally speaks, her voice soft but steady:
"I was curious. I could not resist. What you did for us today was good. We thank you."
Her words strike me deeply. A warmth spreads inside me. I smile faintly. "If you want more, all you need to do is ask. I can help you," I reply. Her lips curve into the faintest smile. But before the moment can grow further, I add: "One condition. Tell me your name."
There is a silence between us, long enough that I hear nothing but the fire's faint crackle and our breath mingling. Then she leans close to my ear, warm breath brushing against my skin, and whispers: "Annabel."
The name coils around me like a thread binding me to this world. It is the first name spoken to me here, and it feels like a vow, like an anchor. "I must leave," she says then, her eyes softer now. "Our chief appreciated your gesture. But tomorrow you will be tested. Please… pass the trials, and join us."
Before I can answer, she presses a kiss, light as a feather, to the edge of my cheek, grazing near my lips. The touch lingers after she has already stepped away. Then she vanishes into the darkness outside. I stand there for a long moment, listening to the silence she leaves behind. Her name echoes in my head, a whisper I cannot forget.
At last, I lie down again, but sleep is restless. Morning arrives with the sound of voices and movement outside. I grip my spears and step into the open. A crowd has gathered. Men, women, even children, fifty, maybe seventy people in total. Their eyes are fixed on me, some fearful, others curious.
At the front stands an old man. His head is crowned with great feathers, his posture straight despite the weight of years. The presence he carries is undeniable. This must be the chief. His gaze is heavy, and when he speaks, his voice carries authority.
"Do you understand me?" he asks.
I nod once. "Yes."
"The gifts you offered pleased us," he says gravely. "I would have you among my people. But first, you must face a trial."
The words echo in my mind, colliding with what Annabel told me. My eyes drift instinctively to the bushes. There she is, watching me. The hope in her face steadies me, fuels me. The chief continues: "You will fight Karlmos, our strongest warrior, our war-chief. The duel will take place tomorrow, when the sun is highest in the sky. If you can defeat him, if you can force him to yield, you will be one of us. If not, then your end will be death. Do you accept?"
The words crash into me like stone. Death. I have already died once. I have already returned. Fear tries to rise in me, but strength answers. I see Annabel's eyes, the way they shine with concern. Karlmos must be powerful, her fear tells me that much. But I will not falter. I swallow hard. "I accept," I say. "Tell Karlmos to meet me tomorrow in the open ground. I will prove I am worthy."
The crowd disperses slowly, whispers carrying into the air. I return to my cave, my thoughts thick with uncertainty. Could I truly defeat him? Could I survive this test?
But hesitation will not keep me alive. Preparation will.
I check my supplies—meat, water, berries. Enough to last. I begin to craft new spears, sharpening stones until their edges glint. I lash them tight to the shafts, stronger than before. I carve short clubs, makeshift knives from sharpened sticks bound with stone tips. My hands move quickly, every motion deliberate. Then I turn to defense. Outside my cave, I construct a trap. Large branches form the frame of a cage. I tie them with fibers, weaving a crude mechanism with ropes. A bait of bones lies beneath. When scavenger birds come to feed, I will pull the cord, dropping the cage.
As the sun dips low, two massive carrion birds descend. They are nearly as large as children, their wings black against the dusk. One escapes, but the other is caught. It thrashes, its eyes locking on mine. For a moment I see a strange awareness in them, almost pleading. But mercy does not fill bellies.
I tighten my grip on the spear, step forward, and drive the point into its chest. The bird shudders, then falls still. My muscles burn, but my resolve hardens. I drag it inside, blood marking the stones as I go.
[+60 XP]
Strength +1
Intelligence +1
The night closes in. The air is cooler, the fire crackles low. I sit beside the body of the bird, preparing its meat, stacking it among my stores. My mind drifts to Karlmos. Will he be a beast of pure strength, or will he fight with skill? Will my weapons be enough, or must I rely on every ounce of cunning I possess?
I lie back, staring at the cave ceiling. Annabel's face flickers across my thoughts, her name whispering like the echo of wind. She believes in me. That belief is fuel, sharper than hunger, stronger than fear.
Tomorrow, under the sun at its peak, my fate will be decided. Will I rise as one of them, or fall back into the darkness from which I came?