The glade is familiar to me now, but lacks food. I don’t even know what to eat in the woods. Berries, maybe, if I can find some.

  I trek between trees and around bushes. Now that there’s light, I can see animal trails winding along, so I follow one. It’s so narrow that I brush against trees and bramble, turning sideways to pass through a particularly thorny spot.

  I have no luck finding anything edible. I try little spotted berries that taste acidic and bitter, so bitter that I spit them out on contact and rake my tongue a dozen times to scrape out the flavor. I don’t find other berries after that, but I try a handful of leaves, some revolting sap, and a piece of jagged bark.

  Hunger still roils within me. I [Leech Grip] random plants along my path to remind myself that the pain won’t kill me.

  As I stand over a sapling, wondering how it might taste, I feel something itch in the back of my head. I had this sensation before, right when the thick branch cracked and dropped me on the wolf. Some premonition maybe.

  I jolt upright and turn in circles, searching for whatever might endanger me, yet I find nothing but chirping birds and other Level 1 critters.

  As I turn though, the sensation grows stronger when facing one direction, so I stalk off that way, intent on understanding what drives the feeling.

  I reach the edge of a pond when the itch disappears. The pond’s greenish layer of algae is broken by brown—a deer’s head and shoulders, lifeless, eyes rotted away.

  The antlers catch my attention. Large buck antlers. Maybe if I harvest them, I could make some tool, like a shovel, or even a knife.

  I circle the murky water, closing in on my quarry.

  Then the water stirs.

  I stop in place, eyes twitching between the deer and the water.

  Speckled bugs, each with crimson stripes along their long bodies, each bigger than my hand, burst from the green pond. Some climb up from below the deer, cresting over the antlers before coming to shore. Their small heads have no eyes, but are filled with a large array of teeth.

  Blood Crawler - Level 1

  I retreat, but the swarm has appeared on every side of the pond. I’ve walked into their trap.

  I kick the first crawler that creeps toward me. Another lunges from the side and catches hold of my bare leg. Its teeth latch on. I snatch it and give it a pulse of [Leech Grip]. It drops off my leg and crumbles into dust.

  The crawlers may be weak, but dozens of them block my escape.

  I stomp on them as I try to push away from the pond, but they expect this, and fill in around the edges, quicker than me.

  Two more latch onto another leg, slowing me down. I back out, another way, avoiding the larger swarm. I snatch one, five, eight crawlers and [Leech Grip] their little bodies. I can feel my mana running low.

  The strength of my leech means nothing when forty more crawlers surround me. I back up into a tree. Thick brambles on one side, the swarm and pond on the other. I glance up to see if I can climb the tree when I find a fist sized branch within reach.

  I tug at it, trying to break it off while I flail one leg at the crawlers in an attempt to scare them off. The branch won’t budge.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I [Leech Grip] the end of it, once, twice. By the fourth time, my mana has run dry, but the branch weakens. Three more crawlers have attached themselves to my legs.

  With a snap the branch gives way and I stumble into the swarm.

  Improvised Weapon: [Tree Branch] – Impact (+1 Attack)

  I swing my improvised weapon down on them, knocking three away, each dying on impact. I repeat my simple strike, over and over, ignoring the ones that suck blood from my legs. Ten die, then twenty. Once only a dozen remain, they retreat, scurrying back towards the pond. Even the ones on my legs get the cue and detach from me. I don’t let those ones escape.

  You have reached Level 2.

  In exhaustion I lean back against the tree that saved me. The branch hangs loose in my hand. I wait, letting my mana replenish, then draw more strength from the tree. The many bite marks on my legs fade, the sting fading with them. I drop the branch and slide down into the grass around the trunk of the tree.

  I rest my head. Tired, hungry. Dead crawlers litter the grass around me, the bugs more like many-legged worms than anything. I wonder if they’re edible, but I’m not ready to try them.

  Then I feel something on my arm and jerk my head.

  A beetle climbs up my sleeve and reaches my shoulder. Its shell is obsidian black, with a small set of onyx horns. I feel the urge to jump to my feet and swat the critter, but an itch in the back of my head tempers my response.

  The beetle stops and stares at me, unmoving. I don’t flinch, returning the stare. This standoff continues until a cold breeze picks up. I shiver and the beetle flies off my shoulder, circles me, then lands exactly where it was before.

  [Spirit Bond] formed. Bond at level 1.

  The itch from before changes into a soothing feeling, like warm air.

  I reach out, inching my hand toward the beetle. It doesn’t move. One finger is all it takes to rub the beetle’s black shell. Nox. That’s a name for it.

  Nox twitches at the thought of its name, as if it can sense my intention. Then my stomach grumbles.

  Without hesitation, Nox flies off my shoulder and circles my head before picking a direction; the warm air feeling follows. I stand and run after him, trusting my small friend to lead me.

  We arrive in a small glade, different from the ashen glade of my first day. In the middle of the clearing stands an oak twice the size of the others.

  Nox leads me to one side, where the branches of the oak are largest, providing shade. In this cold corner lies a rotted log covered in mushrooms.

  I frown at them, then glance at Nox, who has landed near the white fungi.

  So mushrooms will be my food then. A warm feeling emanates from Nox.

  Better than blood crawlers.

  I kneel down and lift a single mushroom. Before I can doubt the sanity of trusting a beetle with my diet, I drop the mushroom in my mouth and chew. Its flavor is pungent and chalky, but not terrible. I swallow, then take another. I finish the whole log in minutes, while Nox watches from my shoulder.

  After my short meal, I lean back, my hands on the dirt by the trunk of the huge oak.

  Skill Acquired: [Detect Decay]

  Sense decay within range. Maximum range: 50 feet. 1 mana per 3 seconds active. Additional mana spent grants stronger sense within range. Levels gained increase maximum range. Passive: 5 foot radius weak sense of decay.

  The [Skill] activates, highlighting the remaining mushrooms I missed. They give a soft glow and pulse in my head. It’s as if my mind is the edge of a pond, and the mushrooms are small rocks that create ripple after ripple.

  I sense other pulses, some distance away. The strongest pulse is a tilted tree at the edge of the glade. It has no leaves and a crack down the middle of its trunk. The pulsing draws me towards it. Decay glows through the bark, ripples of it, spreading through the tree and thicker branches, like pathways. Bugs and fungi are the likely culprits.

  Once I’m less disoriented by my new [Skill]. I push the thought of hunger again towards Nox. A single batch of mushrooms is a start, but far from filling.

  With my beetle in the lead, I sprint through the forest, dodging bushes and rocks. I can start to sense the mushrooms before we reach them. I hone in and dash ahead, then wait for Nox to settle in on my shoulder before digging in.

  After three patches of mushrooms, I’m sated. Nox seems to tire anyways. He snuggles into the fabric of my ruined tunic, by my neck.

  Thunder rumbles then, surprising the both of us.

  The first drops of water come soon after, eliciting a hiss from Nox and a sigh from me.