Feather led me back the way we’d come, going ahead of me this time. That showed a lot more trust, which I didn’t think I’d quite earned. These commune people were not the sharpest tools in the shipping container.

  Outside the meadow, Feather quickly deviated right, heading south-ish. I set Hergvor back to following and fighting with me as soon as we were out of Todd’s aggro range, which I had to guess was the meadow itself.

  Remnant: Dave, how close are the Hunters?

  Fuck You Dave: Slowed up by some wild nightpanthers, poor things. They’re only level 20. But yeah, they’ll get here soon.

  Remnant: Okay. Is there any good way to attract them to me? To lure them?

  Fuck You Dave: You could piss on some trees. Not sure if you’d have enough piss, though.

  Remnant: I’m serious.

  Fuck You Dave: I am too. Bodily fluids are easy to detect for most nonhuman species. We got better smell than you lot. Or you could start dropping items from your pack, but that would probably look like a trap.

  I scowled, then scanned the ground. This area was known for a specific nettle plant you could harvest, and I asked Dave to look for it.

  Remnant: It should glow slightly to indicate it can be harvested. Should being the operative word.

  Fuck You Dave: Will it have a name over it? Because I found something with a name over it.

  Remnant: Where?

  Fuck You Dave: Turn a little to your right. It’s in that thorn thicket.

  I sighed and called out softly, “Hey, Feather? I need something from that thicket.” I pointed to the dense, toothy-looking knot of brambles ahead on our right.

  “Oh. Well, all right,” Feather said, changing course just like that. These people were way too trusting. They were lucky I was the first one to find them.

  They’d be luckier if you never came here at all. The Hunters would have no reason to enter their forest otherwise.

  I dismissed the idea, because I refused to blame myself for getting people hurt when it was the Conduit who had enslaved my entire race and forced some of them to wear loincloths and feather headdresses. Now that was a special kind of evil. Gods, those clothes had to itch.

  Feather stopped at the thicket, and I parted a group of tight branches to poke my head in. There, alone in a small enclosure made by the brambles, was a little thistle-like plant, complete with sharp leaves and a white pom-pom flower head. I reached down and picked it.

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  I hissed through my teeth as the Stingnettle did 3 points of damage to me. All of them did when you picked them.

  Instantly, the alarm of my Bleeder effect started going off.

  Hergvor might have healed me, but my armor remained depleted after my encounter with the panthers. It wouldn’t regenerate until I found items that allowed for that.

  I held out my hand, satisfied as I watched blood drip from my palm. I inventoried the single nettle, then waved Feather onward. She turned and started leading us toward her supposed “great spot for an ambush.” I bled the whole way there, leaving a trail the Hunters should be able to follow. If they thought I was injured, they’d be even more unprepared to deal with an ambush.

  But if they saw through the trick, I might be in trouble.

  Remnant: Dave, if people die in this game, do they really die? Coreless and NPCs both.

  Fuck You Dave: Yes. They die.

  Remnant: And if they survive a level?

  Fuck You Dave: Sometimes they’re left behind until the game is over, in case an area needs to be revisited. Sometimes, they get recycled into new characters in the next level. It’s a crapshoot, really.

  Fuck You Dave: I would like to take this moment to remind you that you have five Unallocated stat points. That is not enough to save this whole tribe. So why bother? Spend the points on yourself. Until you get some spells, or a better weapon, you’re not much use in a fight.

  At the mention of this, I inventoried the Bell Katana and pulled out my basic spear. This, at least, scaled off Strength. I had some of that. I could also fill my backup slot with a weapon, so I scanned through the drops I’d snagged from the dead shadow and slime guy. My eyebrows rose. How did I forget about that?

  I made sure those slots were full, too. Now I could swap between two sets of weapons with only a gesture.

  Remnant: I’m a bit more ready to fight this time. Plus I have this pear thing.

  Fuck You Dave: Read the description, beluga bibs. That aura doesn’t do shit.

  I did as he asked, checking the pear in my inventory. I had been hoping I could use it as some sort of shield when I was luring the Hunters, but no dice.

  Pear of the Peaceful Sage (Red Grade)

  Throwable Item

  Causes the Pacifist debuff.

  Wait, a debuff? I expanded it:

  Pacifist

  Debuff

  Target enemy cannot attack unless attacked for 1 minute.

  “It’s the pears making them pacifists,” I mutter. “Those Conduit bastards sure have a sense of humor, don’t they?”

  I closed my inventory, then opened it up again. I was getting good at doing this while walking and staying aware of my surroundings. I’d had some practice in Seven Keys, but the stakes were higher now. I could die in Seven Keys and just respawn back in town.

  That wasn’t the case any longer. I had to become very good at this.

  Thinking of FATE’s instructions for the glitch, I checked through all my Red grade items. She’d said a successful glitch would triple the number of items in my central slot, but only if they were Red. I didn’t have much worth tripling, not unless I wanted two more Bell Katanas or Slowfall Orbs.

  My gaze kept returning to the stupid pear. As dumb as it was for the Tendua, it might be useful to me. I could use it to stop a mob from attacking me for a whole minute… or a player. The word “enemy” was used in the game to refer to anyone but the self.

  I could safely hang out in the vault and level up, if I had one of these. As soon as I exit, if someone is camping me, I just have to toss one of these at them.

  It seemed a smart move, at least until I understood the game better. I’d have to keep an eye out for a better item to get more of, like health potions, but for now, this worked. It gave me insurance. I left the pear in my central slot, then jogged ahead to Feather.

  “Hey,” I said. “You should probably stop eating those pears—”

  Before I could finish, she swept aside a fern that was taller than I was. Through the fronds, I looked down—and down—and down.

  “Will this make a good trap?” Feather asked me.

  Below us was a sheer cliff face, well over a hundred feet high. It looked like a god had chopped off the land with a giant axe.

  “Uh… if this was Looney Tunes, maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think—”

  “They tricked me!” Dave shouted. “They’re on us! Incoming!”

  I spun, only to find an alien materializing in front of me. Another of those sentient walking-stick guys, using Astral projection magic.

  His mandibles spread in a grin, and he pushed me.

  This trap business was not going to plan.