That night, I learned Grandpa Joe snored. Like intermittent rumbles of thunder—only far less calming. The heat kept me awake for a while, too. Eventually, though, I was able to ignore both and sleep until just before dawn.

  He was still sleeping when I snuck out of the tent to piss. I used a nearby tree to relieve myself. I didn’t want to be too far away. Not after what Grandpa Joe had warned me about. On the way back, I checked out the fire pit. The fire had burned down to ash overnight. It still felt hot when my hand hovered over the remains. I guessed there were probably coals in there somewhere from which to light a new fire for breakfast.

  I sat by the fire pit in the pale morning light. The sun wasn’t due up for another few minutes. Everything around felt calm. I closed my eyes and listened to the birds waking from their sleep to sing, to the cool breeze rustling the leaves. I smelled the scents of flowers on that breeze. I took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Good morning,” I heard Grandpa Joe say moments after the sun had fully risen. “You’re up early.”

  “Oh, hey,” I said. “Yeah. I got up about thirty minutes ago. Nature called.”

  He grunted his understanding.

  “What do I do about the fire?” I asked.

  “Gather some kindling from nearby. I’ll clear off the ashes. The coals from the fire should last half a day when buried like that.”

  “Alright.”

  I went off and picked up an armful of small sticks and twigs. I dumped them on the ground by the fire pit. There were still some logs from the tree Grandpa Joe had cut down yesterday.

  “It’s the same process as yesterday,” he said. “Only it’s easier because there are many coals and they’re all still really hot.”

  To demonstrate what he meant, he piled a handful of small twigs where he had concentrated the coals. Then he blew on them. The ash disappeared. Below the ash were coals that glowed red against his breath. The heat from them was enough to ignite the first of the twigs. It was only a short time before we had a roaring fire to make our food with.

  The food options were pretty poor. I ate my breakfast under protest. Turns out that freeze-dried eggs are awful. It wasn’t just the taste—that was pretty revolting—but the texture is what sent the unpleasantness to a whole other level. If my body wasn’t begging for the calories like I was Seymour feeding it human flesh, I would have categorically refused to eat it.

  When we were full, it was time to break down the camp and pack for the day’s hike. Grandpa Joe took care of the tent while he sent me down to get water from the spring. When everything was packed and strapped to us, the final thing to do was to snuff the fire. The last thing either of us wanted was to cause a forest fire and ruin the forest for others to enjoy.

  Two days passed in much the same way. We’d walk all day, make camp, sleep, then break camp in the morning. Each day we walked about twenty miles. The weather had been good the whole time—until this morning, at least. It started with a light rain and only worsened as the day wore on. By lunch, the trail was mud and the sky so clouded that it felt like dusk.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked while we ate our lunch under a small rocky overhang.

  “There’s a nearby campsite on the trail,” Grandpa Joe said. “We’ll stop there and wait for the rain to pass. Hopefully it’s gone by tomorrow.”

  So that’s exactly what we did. The campsite was a mile away. That meant it felt like it was ten miles with all of the mud and water everywhere. We set up camp and did out best to dry everything with a fire. Getting that first started was difficult. Grandpa Joe used all of his skill in fire-making to get it going. Sitting in the tent was wonderful—even if it was just as damp as everything else.

  The rain let up around mid-morning the next day. Because of the time wasted waiting for the rain, Grandpa Joe decided it would be better to start the trip back to the car. We packed up the camp and started walking on the muddy trail. Although everything was damp, the sun being out made everything better. It didn’t do anything for my feet, but the rest of me welcomed the warmth.

  We trudged on hour after hour before making camp at the same place we had two days before. The following morning was more of the same. Thankfully, the trail had dried a little more—that or it was rockier and had better drainage to begin with.

  In the late afternoon—when we were still a couple miles from the next campsite—I had a strange feeling. My heart rate jumped. I felt nervous. Even though I looked around as Grandpa Joe had taught me, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching me.

  “What’s wrong, kid?” he asked me upon seeing my change in demeanor.

  “I-I’m not sure,” I said. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

  “Shit,” he spat. “I’d rather it have been a bear.”

  He took a deep breath and drew his handgun.

  “Keep close and keep alert. If you see the fucker, say something. They’re less likely to attack humans in a group—but less likely doesn’t mean they won’t. It’s rained recently so they’re going out to hunt now that it’s not pouring. They’re slippery and they blend in with the forest, so they’ll be hard to spot.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I nodded.

  It was slower to walk to the campsite now that we had to stick extra close together. I was probably the main target—which is why I felt its eyes on me—so I needed Grandpa Joe close for protection. One mile passed. Then two. That’s when I caught a glimpse of a shadow that seemed to move.

  “I see it, Grandpa Joe,” I said.

  “Where?”

  I pointed to where the shadow had been, except it was gone!

  “It moved!” I exclaimed.

  “Damn it,” he curse. “Let me know if you see it. Keep your eyes on it as soon as you do.”

  “Ok. I’ll—“

  I heard a twig snap behind me. I whipped my head around.

  “—Grandpa!”

  The quest popped in my vision right as I alerted him to the danger behind me. I accepted the quest without actually reading it. I needed my vision clear to be able to handle the danger in front of me. Grandpa Joe roughly shoved me to the side. I tumbled and hit my head against a tree. The pain lanced through my body, making my brain foggy.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  “Fuck!”

  Crack!

  I took several moments to come back to my senses. I saw Grandpa Joe with blood coming down from his arms. The panther—so intent on hunting us—lay dead on the trail in front of him. I went to stand up. I couldn’t without feeling dizzy. So instead I sat with my back to the tree that had knocked me around.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, wincing when his arms moved.

  I could see deep scratches in his left arm. I knew I should have felt something—worry, concern, relief—but instead I just felt numb.

  “Eddy?” he asked with more concern on his face. “Eddy!”

  “Ya, m fnne,” I said.

  Everything felt strange and distant.

  “Eddy! Listen to me carefully. Quickly buy Heal and use it on yourself!”

  “Mmm,” I said.

  It took a lot of effort and focus to navigate the menus. I was slow—thinking about as well as molasses flowed. Eventually, I found what Grandpa Joe had asked me for and purchased it.

  I used it on myself. That single action exhausted all the willpower I had left. A tingling sensation spread outward from my heart to my fingertips. The first casting eased the fog a little. I knew how deeply screwed I was if I didn’t keep using the skill. I Healed and Healed three, four, five times. I Healed until I ran out of mana. Only then did I stop to check my stats.

  I didn’t know how much I had Healed, but I knew I had been very close to death before I had started. I owed my life to Grandpa Joe’s actions. He’d killed the beast hunting me—and even though his pushing me is what nearly ended my life, I survived.

  “Eddy, are you ok?” he asked again.

  “Yeah. I’m mostly better now. Your arm looks bad. Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll live—which is more than I could have said about you only moments ago. Worry about yourself first, alright?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  Moving my head was a poor choice. It was painful to move. Thankfully, my health wasn’t going down so I was stable. That’s when the quest I’d not had a chance to read popped back up as having been completed.

  Seeing the reward drilled into me just how dangerous the situation had been. I usually gained small amounts of experience for quests that lasted an hour or two. This one wasn’t just a little more—it was a lot more. I sat by the tree to watch my mana tick up.

  My health remained constant. My mana went up slowly at around 1 mana per minute. I was able to get one more Heal off on myself before Grandpa Joe insisted we start walking towards the campsite.

  “Even if you’re going to walk slowly, we need to get everything set up before dark,” he explained.

  He wasn’t wrong. I could feel like darkness was only an hour away at most. I hoisted my backpack back onto me and let him help me to me feet. We trudged forward along the trail for thirty minutes before a familiar resting spot appeared to one side of the trail. In the intervening time, I cast another Heal on myself—bringing me close to full. I felt much better after that—not perfect but definitely on the mend.

  I had to help Grandpa Joe put the tent together. His arm looked messed up—and that was putting it lightly. I thought I saw bone peeking through the blood. He’d wrapped it while we were waiting for me to Heal myself more and those bandaged were now soaked in his blood. As soon as I had enough mana to cast it again, I did so on his arm in spite of his protests.

  “I’m basically good to go now,” I said. “Your arm being injured is doing us no good. I’ll be able to heal you up and me up by tomorrow morning.”

  “Fine,” he said, giving in.

  It took three more Heals before his arm was in tip-top shape. Another two for me to max my health out as well. It was a couple hours past dark by the time we got to bed feeling as well as we had when we’d woken up in the morning.

  Two days later, we exited the trail where the car was. Grandpa Joe’s clothing was tattered—mine just dirty. We stuffed the equipment into the back of the car and buckled up. The trip had been one hell of an adventure. One I wasn’t too keen on repeating. At least, not without a lot more preparation.

  “Eddy,” he said when we were on the highway, “you should look into learning how to shoot. That gun saved both our lives, and I think it’s a skill you’ll need eventually. Maybe not right away but definitely something to look into.”

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking.

  Knowing how to shoot was a good goal. As was learning how to fight in other ways—hand-to-hand, swords, spears, maybe something else? All of those thoughts flowed through my head on the ride home. I’d have to talk to my parents first.

  The whole incident with the panther had brought something else to the fore: most of humanity had no idea how to fight. As the years had gone on, we’d become less and less warlike as a species—instead preferring cooperation and diplomacy to outright war. I was going to need to find some way to ensure everyone knew enough to survive combat with monsters. If that panther was a tier zero, I shuddered to think how dangerous a tier 2 monster would be.

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