Suddenly, Norman was drenched. He didn’t even know how to react as the ice-cold water seeped through his already ruined clothes. The warm weather made it bearable, refreshing even, but he would certainly rather be dry. It didn’t help that he could almost hear Savant chuckle somewhere deep in his brain. As he stood up to shake the water off, he spotted Pail. The boy was equally as drenched as Norman himself and happily splashing in the shallow river.

  “This water feels real nice, mister! Nice n’ cold!” Pail chirped as he used his wings to splash in the water. The water did nothing to make him any cleaner; if anything, it just dissolved the dried mud on his legs to make a mess. Norman made a mental note to give him a bath when they found a town.

  Norman hung up his suit jacket and shoes in a nearby tree to let them dry faster in the summer heat. He kept his other clothes on for modesty’s sake. Not that any women were around to look at him, but he would like to keep his clothes on if he were to be chased out of here by another one of those pather-wolf beasts. While he wrung out his soaked dress shirt, he looked back at Pail.

  The kid looked like he was concentrating on something as he waded through the water. His amber eyes scanned the river like a tiger, and his arms were held up in a grabbing position. Norman could even swear he saw Pail stick out his tongue in concentration. It reminded him of the secretary in his office, as she had the same habit. It seemed like the kind of thing you shouldn’t interrupt, so Norman decided to stay back and watch.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” Norman asked inwardly to the living encyclopedia that resided in his brain. If anyone knew, it would probably be Savant.

  [IT LOOKS LIKE HE IS TRYING TO CATCH A FISH.]

  As if to prove Savant’s astute observation correct; Pail dove his hands in the water with a determined “Ha!”. A moment later, he was proudly holding a flailing fish above his head, beaming ear to ear at his catch. Pail looked like the image of happiness despite all his injuries and scars. Partly because of the fish but mostly because he had someone to show the fish to.

  “Look, mister! I caught ya somethin’ to eat! I heard ya stomach grumblin’, so I thoughta do somethin’ about it as your guide!” Pail called out as loudly as a kid his size could.

  With a spring in his step, he ran out of the river with the fish firmly held in his little hands. It was actually quite impressive how a boy so young could wrangle a fish of that size as it flailed with all its might. A moment later, the fish’s head was promptly crushed with a rock. Norman winced at the brutal death and quietly thanked the universe for not making him into a fish.

  “You really caught one. I am very impressed.” Norman gave a weak thumbs up in support of Pail’s efforts, even if the bloody scene of a beheaded fish made him feel quite queasy.

  [SILVAE IS A BRUTAL WORLD.]

  “So it is. I suspect I will have to get used to it.” Norman sighed internally. Fish were one thing, but by the way Savant was talking, he doubted that this world’s brutality only applied to animals.

  Norman was hungry, but as a civilized man, he would not eat raw fish in the middle of the woods. Sushi was fine, but that was prepared in a sterilized kitchen and thoroughly disinfected. A fish caught by a child in a river would give him some sort of magical parasite that would eat him from the inside. He wasn’t going to let a kid eat uncooked food either.

  Setting up a fire was easier the second time. The sun was high in the sky, and he didn’t waste 2 hours rubbing rocks together like a caveman. Within 10 minutes of stick gathering and glasses angling, the fire was ablaze. It didn’t give him any sort of satisfaction like the first time, however.

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  [YOU LOOK LIKE A REAL PROFESSIONAL FIRE STARTER.]

  Savant sure was one for dry humor. Norman doubted if they really were soulmates or if the 99.6% compatibility rate was something it made up as a justification. They got along well enough, so Norman decided not to dwell on it and complicate their relationship. Instead, he called Pail over to bring the (now poorly gutted) fish.

  Inserting a stick through the poor fish’s eye was a lot harder than Norman expected. Not because he was pitifully weak but because of the crushing guilt he felt when he looked into the beady little eye of the fish. He had to close his eyes and mutter an apology as he skewered it, making Pail giggle in the process. He could imagine that he looked like a spoiled prince to the homeless boy.

  “Mister! What faraway place are ya from?” Pail asked while eyeing the slowly cooking fish. It was as if he was scared it would be stolen from him if he looked away.

  “Somewhere without magic. And only inhabited by humans.” Norman felt that it was best not to make up some country just in case he ever came across someone who owned a map. At the same time, it felt kinda heavy to drop that he was from another world on a child.

  Norman assumed that Pail would be disappointed by his mundane birthplace, but his eyes just sparkled brighter. “Really!? That sounds soooo cool, mister! You musta come from real far if the mana spring didn’t reach ya!”

  Norman didn’t know what a mana spring was, but he had too much to think about to really care. His life on Earth never deviated from his set schedule, even in the most dire of times, so all of these new concepts and sensations wore him out both mentally and physically. Information would make its way to him as long as he kept living in this world; there was no need to rush.

  Instead of responding, Norman grabbed the roasted fish and split the skewer in the middle. It was a very uneven division, with one side of the fish much bigger than the other. Like the good adult he was, he handed the biggest piece to Pail and got to work picking the bones out of his own piece.

  Pail didn’t waste a moment digging into his part of the fish. His cheeks stuck out like a chipmunk as he shoved a big piece in his mouth, bones and all. The fish was bland and slightly undercooked, but to Pail, it was heaven. This was a good day. He got to meet a new person and eat cooked food in the span of a few hours. He only ever got cooked food on very special occasions back when he was with the angry men and the other kids, and even then, it was always cold.

  Norman wasn’t as enthusiastic about his meal. It was bland and full of bones he had to spit out into his palm. It made him appreciate the convenience store meals he often ate after work. What he wouldn’t do for a discounted egg sandwich right now. Despite his complaints, he ate it with the same stoic expression he always wore. Norman couldn’t remember the last time he showed emotion in his face or voice—if there was even a time when he did. He remembered his mother bringing him to many a psychiatrists as a child. None of them ever figured out why he didn’t laugh or cry, but they decided it wasn’t really a problem.

  [ARE YOU HAPPY?]

  It was an unexpected question from someone who could read his mind. Norman figured he was moderately happy. The kind of happy one should be in the office, pleasant yet subdued. If he was asked whether he was so happy that he’d burst out laughing, then the answer was no. This was pleasant; he wasn’t in pain or in any inconvenient situation. That was enough for him to say that, yes, he was moderately happy.

  “I suppose I am happy in my own way.” Norman mused inwardly. Emotions were a complicated thing for him, and this was the best answer Savant would currently get.

  [HAPPY IN YOUR OWN WAY. I LIKE THAT.]

  After their meal and another drink of water, the two (three if you count Savant) of them were off again. Pail talked about all kinds of things, from the interesting bugs he’s seen to questions about why clouds keep moving. The kid was like a constant stream of unfiltered thoughts. It made for a nice contrast with Norman’s stoicism, even if it was a little grating. Norman gained a stamina point on their journey, which was nice. Even if it barely made any difference.

  “Hey, mister! Whyd’ya think dogs got them long snouts, but cats got a tiny one?” Pail asked his 14th question in the last hour. He was high on his excitement of finally having someone to talk to without either being squawked at by a bird or beaten for speaking out of turn.

  “I am no expert, but I believe it has to do with the fact that wolves use their noses to track prey while cats use their eyes.” Norman dutifully answered Pail’s questions to the best of his ability. He didn’t fancy himself a teacher, but he hoped he got his points across.

  Many such animal questions followed. Why do bugs have shells? Why can’t fish breathe on land? Why can’t I breathe in water if there’s oxygen in there? What is oxygen? On and on and on. Norman admired the boy’s curiosity, but he hadn’t spoken this much in years and was quite worn out. He contemplated teaching Pail the quiet game until a distant sound stopped them both in their tracks.

  It sounded like a pained howl.