Norman woke up to the sensation of water dripping on his face. Only on his face. As his eyes shot open, he was greeted by the wide maw of a beast drooling all over him. It looked like a mix between a wildcat and a wolf, the kind of thing that could maul a person with minimal effort. Norman felt his body freeze as he awaited his impending doom. It had been a good life, sort of. He even got to experience magic before he died, something most people could only ever dream of.

  Norman squeezed his eyes shut and awaited a world of pain. He waited, and waited, and… wait, why wasn’t he being mauled? The pather-wolf thing leaned down and sniffed Norman’s impeccably styled hair before gleefully licking his jet-black locks until it looked like a sopping mess. Norman simply stared in disbelief as he got his haircut ruined by the beast. It felt incredibly unpleasant, like having your head dunked in a vat of slime, but it was far better than the unbearable pain of being gutted alive by a wild animal.

  After the beast was sure it had nothing left to savor, it simply walked off, leaving Norman both moist and confused. Did all creatures of this world like the taste of human hair, or was this hybrid thing special? Was his hair particularly tasty to beasts? That would be a very inconvenient situation to be in. He couldn’t imagine being allowed into towns or settlements unless he shaved himself bald.

  Savant, who had stayed silent during this entire life-threatening situation, finally decided to say its piece.

  [I BELIEVE YOUR HAIR GEL IS THE CULPRIT. IT SHOULD BE FINE NOW THAT IT HAS BEEN EATEN. I DID NOT INTERVENE AS LYFELES DO NOT PREY ON HUMANS.]

  Norman, startled out of his inner monologues, jumped in surprise at the text in front of his eyes. He wasn’t used to having someone in his head 24/7 and doubted he would be used to it anytime soon. It was good to know that he wouldn’t be attracting any more beasts and that he wasn’t in any real danger. Still, a heads-up would have been nice.

  “Next time I come inches from the maw of a beast in my sleep, please do wake me up, no matter how harmless the creature is. I nearly got a heart attack.” Norman grumbled as he poked around in the now-dead fire. It was a good fire while it lasted, glorious even, so he was a bit sad to see it reduced to ashes.

  “This must be how great inventors feel when their inventions inevitably fail,” He thought to himself, likening himself to one of the greats while conveniently ignoring that all he did was start a fire.

  He would’ve lamented about his lost fire for longer if the pang of hunger didn’t make thinking so difficult. Norman was a twenty-first-century man; he had rarely gone a day without eating. Food was taken for granted and eaten for entertainment instead of survival back on Earth. Hunting for food was something you did in the fridge or pantry, not in a wide forest brimming with dangerous animals and poisonous plants

  Norman wasn’t a betting man, but even he would bet his life savings on not finding a fridge full of food in the middle of the forest. He simply had no choice but to keep walking and hope he would come across something edible. He straightened himself out and tried to look as presentable as possible, even with his suit covered in mud and grass. Ah, he had just taken it to the dry cleaner a few days ago, and now it was practically ruined.

  He began walking while mourning his favorite suit. He got it as a treat for himself last year for his 30th birthday and has worn it every day since. Norman wondered what kinds of clothes they had in Silvae and what was considered fashionable. Maybe it was as easy as getting a new suit from a tailor, but he doubted it was that easy.

  The forest was sprawling with life now. Birds sang melodic tunes in the distance, while rabbit- and fox-like creatures trotted at the edge of Norman's vision. Norman was wise enough not to touch any of the colorful flowers covering the trees or the poisonous-looking bugs scampering through the earth below his feet.

  The air was thick with the sweet scent of flowers and the earthy smell of moss. This part of the world was a lot more humid and hot than his hometown. It reminded him of Asian summers when you can practically feel the air around you as you walk. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either. Norman was thirsty, hungry, and tired. A very unpleasant combination.

  A high-pitched yell and the sound of branches snapping cut through the birdsong. A blur of yellow and brown quickly fell toward Norman, making him step back in surprise. The object crashed in front of his feet, making a dull thud as it touched the ground. Norman could only see a pair of large yellow wings on the ground, twitching slightly. It looked like some sort of tropic bird from this angle. Norman went to poke it with a stick when it suddenly jolted up straight.

  The wings were attached to a young boy with tan skin and long blonde hair tangled in an uncountable number of knots. He couldn’t have looked older than 6 or 7, yet he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the fall. He looked up at Norman with eyes full of amazement; it was as if he was looking at a unicorn.

  Norman’s mind was running a mile a second at the appearance of this child. This was the first person he had met in this first world, and it was a child. He wasn’t good with children. Before that, did they even speak the same language? Wait, wait, no, why did it have wings?

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Greetings.” was all Norman managed to say, a pathetic attempt at first contact with a new world.

  The boy’s face lit up as he quickly scrambled to stand up on his feet. His wings looked far too big for his body yet folded into an appropriate size, much to Norman’s amazement. The boy was dressed in rags that probably were blue once but now looked dark brown. He had cuts and bruises all over his legs and arms as well. Norman couldn’t help but wonder who took care of the child. Was letting your children become this unkept and injured common in this world? He hoped now.

  “Hello, mister!” The boy said with barely subdued excitement. He had a slight lisp but Norman was pleasantly surprised that they both spoke the same language.

  “Ahem. Yes. My name is Norman Persson. What is your name?” Norman introduced himself as if he was at a company convention. He even reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a business card before catching himself.

  “My name is Pail! I’m named that because they found me in the pail of a well! That’s what the angry misters told me!” Pail beamed, seemingly very proud of his abysmally uncreative name.

  “Nice to meet you… Pail. May I speak to your parents?” Norman decided that it was probably not a great idea to ask questions to a child who could barely feed themselves and that contacting an adult would be optimal.

  “I don’t got none! I was sold for 10 Lapis to the angry misters before they all died and left me in the woods!” Pail explained. His life sounded like a complicated one, yet Pail himself didn’t seem to mind much.

  “An orphan, then. That explains the state he’s in,” Norman thought to himself as he looked at the child with pity. He wasn’t the most socially aware man, but even he could tell that the boy had a hard life. He was ready to give up on the woods after a day and a half; Pail must be absolutely exhausted after god knows how long.

  “I see. Are you alone? Do you have a place to live?” Norman asked as gently as he could, something he wasn’t very good at with his minimal conversation skills.

  Pail swayed on his bare heels as he thought. Was he alone? He had the company of birds and stuff. Did that count, or did this mister mean people who would respond to him when he talked? He sure would like someone to talk to that didn’t fly away.

  “It’s just me!” Pail decided to respond, figuring that birds probably didn’t count. “Can I come with you, mister? I’ll do lots of work, and if I don’t, then you can smack me on the ear like the angry misters did!” The boy gave Norman his most charming smile, trying to sell himself as someone worth having around.

  [I WOULD SUGGEST BRINGING THE BOY AS A GUIDE.]

  Savant spoke up for the first time in hours, scaring the life out of poor Norman. Pail, who couldn’t hear it, looked around in confusion to try to spot what scared the man but came up with nothing.

  “I was going to bring him even if you didn’t tell me to. It would leave a bad taste in my mouth if I left such a young child alone.” Norman retorted in his head. He was planning to clean the boy up and send him to an orphanage in some nice town whenever he found one. That seemed like the reasonable thing to do.

  “Alright. I’ll take you with me. Your only job will be to guide me to water suitable for drinking.” Norman instructed the child while trying to sound as dependable as possible, “But I won’t beat you,” He quickly added at the end. Giving the child the impression that he would be hit if he did something wrong wasn’t the way to boost productivity. Productivity felt like the wrong word to use. Morale? That seemed right.

  Pail puffed out his chest at the request. Finding his way around the forest was something he was good at. He had been living here for a year, after all. He quickly reached his hands out and tugged on Norman’s dirty suit jacket, urging him to follow.

  “There’s a river a bit from here! Come on, mister!” Pail said as he started leading Norman through the forest. He was a lot more nimble than Norman and easily navigated the root-infested forest floor that Norman kept tripping on.

  Pail hummed a song while they walked, a tune Norman didn’t recognize. The boy was clearly overjoyed at finding another person in the forest, as was Norman. Sure, he had Savant, but talking to a text box for hours had started to get tiring. He had about a thousand questions for the boy but started with the one that he was most interested in.

  “May I ask about the wings? Do all people have those here?” Norman asked, trying to sound as polite as possible. Maybe mentioning the wings was a taboo in this world.

  Pail laughed at Norman’s question as if the answer was obvious. “Mister! Where are you from that you think all people have wings?” He giggled. “They told me my momma was half harpy! She left me in the well ‘cause I can’t fly! Don’t got them hollow bones other harpies have!”

  Norman’s eyes widened slightly at the casual mention of a mythical creature. It made sense, of course, he was in a fantasy world. Yet he still hadn’t actually experienced anything especially magical since arriving here. There weren’t any dragons flying overhead nor elven villages in the trees. It was just an ordinary forest for the most part.

  “I am from very far away. I don’t know anything about this side of the world.” Norman explained in the best way he could. It was the truth of the best kind, a technical one.

  Soon enough, the dense trees parted to make way for a flowing river in a peaceful meadow. It looked like it was straight out of a storybook. The grass was soft, and the water was clear. Norman could even see fish swimming about in the river.

  “Ta-dah! The river! I’m a good guide, ain’t I?” Pail made an exaggerated gesture that reminded Norman of a realtor presenting a house. The boy then took a side glance at Norman, clearly expecting to be praised.

  “You’re a skilled guide. Thank you.” Norman praised. This was his most sincere attempt at a compliment. He would make sure to work on better compliments in the future.

  The pair sat down at the edge of the river, and Norman finally got a drink of water after a day and a half with a mouth as dry as the Sahara. With the threat of imminent doom at the hands of dehydration averted, Norman finally let himself relax.

  Well, until he heard a mighty splash in the river.