Another day, another morning. The new world spun on, indifferent to my confusion. I lay on a makeshift bed, softer than the cold ground, but a cruel imitation of the one I'd left behind. A sudden, jarring awakening had thrown me into Vieja Ellivio, a country of brutal introductions—adventurers, a carriage, and a monster attack—before the quiet, saving grace of Jess. He taught me to survive, from the simplest words to the necessity of fighting.
Now I was in Merauth, and Maria was already a fixture in my thoughts.
I fixed my hair with quick, practiced movements. As I stepped out, the small common area was already alive. Young women in dresses identical to Maria's yesterday, a middle-aged woman in the same garb, and a swarm of children. At a large wooden table, Jess sat with two burly men, their heads bent in serious discussion. I approached them, the thrum of impending action pulling me forward.
"Miro! You… come… fight."
Jess pointed a blunt finger at a paper sketch of a wild-looking pig. Nearby lay other drawings: a lizard, a turtle, and a sprig of grass.
"Why *&₹%@ you *&₹#×£ that *#& him?" a guy with a shield—a mountain of a man—grumbled. His voice was deep, his words a crashing wave I couldn't ride.
I needed to focus on their language, but instinct was stronger. "Fight? Learn?"
Jess tapped the pig drawing. "Yes, fight."
This world was a mystery, and adventuring—fighting, hunting—felt like the key to unlocking it, or at least a path forward. "Yeah!"
The two men cheered. Jess simply gave my back a firm, approving tap.
"Go we "&}∆ market #Π£ #&×£∆ pall atang =£÷∆¥."
"∆£Π÷£?" I echoed the nonsense words.
The three exchanged a quick look of agreement. "Ittan," Jess confirmed. I didn't know what they'd agreed to, but the feeling was clear: we were going to buy something. Excitement, a real, unfamiliar thrill, pulsed in my chest. I was hunting.
We walked outside. That's when I saw her. Maria.
She was running, late for her work, yet somehow running straight through the landscape of my mind all day.
"Hello!" she greeted us with a smile that was, impossibly, brighter than the morning sun. Her voice, even speaking their strange tongue, felt like an angel's melody.
"Hi!" "Hello!" Jess and the others responded.
Then, to me: "All *@+∆$ going?"
I had no idea what she was asking, but for a suspended moment, I didn't care. I could listen to that voice all day.
The Garment Shop and the Kabbab Hunt
Our conversation, predictably, went nowhere. But I caught a few words: forest and a monster called 'kabbab'. Was it dangerous, like the angry 'dorbab' Jess and I had narrowly defeated? Now, there were four of us hunting a single one.
"Come!" Maria led us to a small, unassuming garment store. It was a hut surrounded by potted plants and a few lazy ducks. A small boy was playing with the waterfowl.
"Tot! Ayan ni teng Jannet n?" Maria called to him. 'Tot'—I had that much—but the rest was a blur.
"Eid jai," the boy replied, pointing vaguely behind the house.
Maria went to investigate. Jess and the two men, who I now knew were named Joe and Ald, found scattered rocks and wood and settled down. I did the same, listening to the buzzing insects, trying to absorb the atmosphere.
Maria returned with a middle-aged woman—Jannet, Jess mouthed to me.
"#%#/!! , ∆££÷℅©!!" Jannet erupted, her voice harsh and loud, a genuine shout directed at Maria. Was she angry?
"Yes, yes, yes…" Maria answered, completely unfazed, as if this was a perfectly normal, everyday volume. The men ignored the exchange entirely.
Then, in a dizzying shift, "!! @₹+ /₹)+!! Hahahaha!!!" Jannet's shouting turned to manic laughter. I wondered if the strain of this life had driven her mad.
Before I could process her mood swings, Jannet dove into the hut and returned with a long, men's tunic. She approached me, holding it out.
A garment store. She's the seller. I have no money. I panicked. I wanted to refuse, but all eyes—Maria's, Jess's, Joe's, Ald's, and Jannet's—were on me. I had no choice.
The tunic was thick, made of what felt like tanned animal hide. It was a dusty brown, slightly bulky but didn't restrict movement, and was surprisingly light. It reached my knees, had sleeves to the wrist, and a simple strap at the waist. It was the same material Jess and the others wore. Whether it was a sale, a gift, or a loan, it felt like essential armor against the unknown kabbab.
With grateful nods to Jannet, we headed for the forest.
The Slingshot Strategy
We walked for several minutes, following a rocky track until it gave way to a large, grassy plain. At the edge of the tree line, Jess, Joe, and Ald melted behind thick trunks. Unsure, I ducked into a cluster of low bushes. The quiet was absolute. Jess, barely a shadow, knelt and carefully laid out several scrolls on the ground.
Then, a sharp crack.
All three men pivoted, their weapons drawn. I stared, bewildered. They were holding slingshots. A fierce monster like the 'dorbab' required a sword, surely. But here they stood, ready to face a 'kabbab' with nothing but leather and stone.
The enemy lumbered into view: a pig, built like a 'dorbab' but with a frighteningly larger, heavier jaw.
Jess and the others unleashed a relentless barrage of stones. They focused their attacks solely on the monster's head. They didn't use the scrolls to attack, only ordinary stones.
The key to their strange strategy soon became clear: one of the scrolls had somehow been laid near the pig's path and now adhered to its foot. Every step it took on the sticky parchment clearly caused pain, aggravating an existing injury and slowing it down. The slingshots kept its head down, the pig roaring in confused agony.
They kept attacking, a perfect, brutal choreography of small-projectile assault. Without a slingshot, I could only watch. Finally, the massive pig collapsed. Jess was on it instantly, a small knife appearing in his hand. A swift, practiced stab to the neck ensured its death.
Skin, Bones, and the Orphanage
I joined them in the grim work: slaughtering the kabbab, separating the meat, the bones, and the valuable skin. I carried the thick, brown skin; Jess took the bones; and Joe and Ald managed the heavy meat.
On the walk back, we paused in the grasslands to gather certain herbs. The weight slowed us down, and it took a considerable time to reach town. When we did, a welcoming committee of young people met us, immediately helping to carry our bounty.
The meat went to the large house where I was staying and where Maria worked. The bones went to Jess's house. The skins went straight back to Jannet's shop. I realized the 'dorbab' skin was black, and the 'kabbab' was brown. Was the tunic Jannet gave me made from this animal? Jess stopped me when I tried to return it. It seemed I had been gifted a necessity.
The house where the meat was brought, I now understood, was an orphanage. This explained the constant stream of children and why so much of the town's food—meat, fruit—came here. It begged larger questions: why the need for community support? Was there no governing body, no structure to help them? I filed these questions away; the language barrier was too high.
Another strange puzzle: my appetite. We'd had a small piece of bread for breakfast, skipped lunch, yet I didn't feel hungry. Why did I need to eat at all if I wasn't hungry?
Dinner was a noisy, communal affair, a quiet adult gathering surrounded by the joyful chaos of children. Communication was impossible, so we simply ate.
Afterward, we washed at a spring on the edge of town. Jess, Joe, and Ald laughed and talked about the hunt, their words an incomprehensible, tantalizing soundtrack to a day I'd lived but couldn't understand.
They left with their leftovers. I stayed to help Maria clean the orphanage before finally returning to my room.
Lying on the not-soft bed, the day's action gave way to a torrent of doubt. Why no hunger? Why eat? Can I go back? Why am I here? A familiar, overwhelming dread settled over me.
Will anyone ever answer these questions?
The exhaustion of the hunt won out. For now, I'd have to settle for the promise of tomorrow. I closed my eyes and succumbed to sleep.