by Dawn Chapman
I frowned again, looking for Lila or Jessica. But I could only see trees and could only hear birds.
“Lila!” I yelled, feeling my heart rate speeding up. I gulped, trying to force the panic down. This wasn’t meant to happen. This so wasn’t meant to happen.
The only response was a bird fluttering from a nearby branch as it took flight. I looked around once more. I was alone. Well, not entirely. There were animals.
Small creatures snuffled about in bushes while birds flapped and twittered from above. There were plenty of animals. There was just one problem. I had no idea where I was.
This was no fun at all. It was time to log out. I searched my memory for what Mum had said about logging out but drew a blank. I couldn’t remember her explaining that bit.
“It has to be in the menu, though, right?” I said aloud, mostly so I didn’t feel so alone, so lost. I nodded, giving myself an answer of sorts. “How do I get the menu up, again?”
I tried thinking several different words. Menu. System. Options. But none of them did anything. After frowning and feeling my gut twist almost painfully at my predicament, I said each one aloud in turn. Still nothing happened.
It was then that panic really hit me. Tears stung my eyes mere fractions of a second before they began to pour. I shook as I spun frantically, desperate to see someone or something that might help.
I cried for what felt like an age, my breath coming in deep hitches that shook my entire torso and made my chest ache. But as the sun came out and illuminated the tiny glade, I felt my mind breaking through the haze of panic. I’d been here at least half an hour now and nothing had gone wrong, no nasty creatures had jumped out from behind a bush to eat me; I was still breathing.
Frantically, I tried to imagine how someone might survive this situation. I remembered Mum saying my avatar would need to eat and drink, although I wouldn’t feel the desire anywhere near so much — one of the few possible flaws of the game. Depending on your viewpoint, anyway.
Running water, a stream or brook, babbled nearby. This gave me something to focus on. At some point, in some kind of lesson, probably geography, I remembered being told that people liked to build settlements near running water. If you were ever lost, the best thing was to find a river and follow it downstream.
With no clue of what else to do, and aware I needed to get my avatar somewhere safer, I took my first step away from the spot I’d spawned on, wincing as my toes scrunched up against the end of the shoes. I took the next step more gingerly, hoping to mitigate the pain of shoes too small. Maybe I could find someone who would help me, even if it was only to explain how to log out.
It took me several minutes to locate the stream. A tangle of bushes and undergrowth hampered my movements, but as soon as I was beside it I saw a small but clear pathway alongside it, giving me a way to travel through the forest.
Relief at finding something others must have trod on helped undo the knot in my stomach. Maybe I could do this, maybe I could work this game out and survive.
I called my sisters’ names at regular intervals, hoping they were somewhere nearby in the forest and that they’d had a similar idea to me, but after half an hour I gave up. My throat felt dry and scratchy, and each time I called out, it startled something in the trees around me. I still had no idea what sort of creatures were deadly and which were not, and drawing attention to myself might not have been the best idea.
By the time I’d been walking an hour, the forest seemed even more dense, the path barely more than a dirt track weaving through trees beside a stream. At times I lost it entirely, and several times I tripped over roots and similar hazards hidden in grasses and moss. I stopped, my legs aching and my feet sore. The ill-fitting shoes were giving me blisters to boot. A red splotch appeared in the bottom left corner of my vision. A warning for sure.
Mum’s talks resounded in my head. “The number inside will let you know your debilitation.” But there was no number, so how would I know how badly I was hurt? Well, the pain here and now was enough to know something wasn’t right.
I contemplated drinking from the stream. The splotch pulsed every ten minutes or so and had grown ever so slightly larger. The stream ran clear and was cold to the touch so I decided to risk it. Bending down, I cupped my hands and brought the liquid up to my mouth.
It tasted fresh, not a trace of anything untoward, and within a minute the blob in the corner of my screen was significantly smaller, although still there. It was a start.
Taking a rest for a moment, I leant against a tree that bent towards the water and considered my predicament. I really hoped someone would be able to help me. This game wasn’t as much fun as I’d thought it would be. If I’d wanted to walk for ages in the wilderness I could have done so without breaking into my mum’s workplace and plugging into the game she’d been working on.
I was lost in thought. Maybe there was an internal messaging system like with most MMORPGs, or a forum link. But no matter how hard I tried to access something, nothing happened. I wondered what my sisters might be up to. Were they safe, having fun? Or were they lost, like I was? A splash from behind startled me. I jumped up and whirled around, almost tripping over a stone and falling into the stream. At the last moment, I caught a branch and righted myself.
Someone laughed, and I turned around following the sound, my eyes fixing on the boy standing a few meters away. A grin was plastered on his face, and his mop of hair was mussed so badly it was partly in his eyes. I stared at what he was wearing, having never seen anyone wear anything quite like it. He wore large leather boots that looked a couple of sizes too big, a pack on his back and a bright yellow tweed jacket with a brown patch on one elbow.
“Hi,” he said. “Sorry for scaring you.”
“I wasn’t scared. Just surprised,” I replied, not sure I liked the idea that I’d been scared by such a young person, although I guessed he was probably a similar age to myself. He was a boy, and boys were annoying. He merely laughed again.
“I’ve been following you for a while. You were scared. You’re scared of your own shadow, you are.”
Scared of my own shadow? I looked around and, yeah, there it was, but I wasn’t scared of it. Was I? I watched my shadow. It moved like I did, then seemed to move against me. What? It couldn’t do that, could it?
The greying edge of the shadow changed in a blink. It wasn’t mine. It was something else. Something entirely frightening.
The boy laughed even more. “See? Scared of your shadow.”
As I spun back to him, I thought his eyes were glowing. Had he done that? I scowled. Yup, this boy was just like the others. Annoying.
“Anyway.” The glow to his eyes faded. “I guess we’re both looking for Tomlinson. He’s the best ranger there is. And in this forest, I have to admit, I’m kinda scared, too. How long have you been looking for him?”
For a moment I didn’t answer, not sure what to say. I hadn’t been looking for Tomlinson, I wanted to find my sisters. But a ranger might be just the person I needed. They’d know where I could get help, and they’d probably know how to log out, or how to do something basic, like access my stats. Mum had mentioned there were people who’d appear quickly and help explain things and guide each character on to quests. Maybe this was exactly what was meant to have happened.
“Do you think he’ll be hard to find?” I eventually said, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious I hadn’t answered his question.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Oh, I’m Jarvin, by the way.”
“Oh, Dahlia.” I stood there, not sure if I was meant to do anything else. Didn’t people shake hands or something when they met and introduced themselves? If they did, Jarvin didn’t seem to want to.
“Well, it’s going to be dark in a couple of hours. We should carry on. No point in either of us going alone if we’re heading the same way.”
Jarvin swung himself across the stream to land beside me and then carried on down the path. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the p
ain the blisters caused, I followed.
“So, have you always wanted to be a druid?” Jarvin asked as soon as I caught up with him.
“Ummm... not always, but I love animals. It would make sense.” I was waffling, and I could have hit myself for saying something so lame, but Jarvin nodded like it was the most logical response ever. Until he’d mentioned it, I’d not thought about what type of character I wanted to be. Mum had mentioned there were choices to make, of course, but she hadn’t said what they all were. I barely knew what a druid was or could do inside the game. Maybe it would be cool and I could do amazing things in the forest? Those thoughts excited me and I found myself grinning wildly.
“You?” I asked, realising he’d gone quiet. I had to keep him talking. It worked. For the next half an hour, at least, Jarvin told me his entire backstory. And it was tragic. His mother was dead, his father had walked out, leaving him to be raised by an uncle who didn’t like him much. The only up-side was that he’d grown up on a farm, near a villager who passed as a vet. He’d picked stuff up.
Unlike me, Jarvin had nowhere else to go. This was his life. He’d left his uncle with no intention of going back, and now he was looking for one of the most famous druids in Puatera, a guy called Tomlinson, to ask to be an apprentice. From everything Jarvin said, it was obvious others sought this guy out.
As soon as Jarvin finished telling me about his reason for being in the forest, he started asking me more questions. I kept my answers vague, half-truths, the way I’d answer Mum when we’d been up to stuff we didn’t want her to know about. It almost never worked, but if Jarvin could tell, he didn’t probe any further, and eventually we fell into silence.
The path grew thinner and less obvious as we walked. When he stopped suddenly, I bumped into the back of him.
“Easy,” he said. “Looks like we need to work out where to go from here. How’s your scouting ability?”
“Sorry, I’m not going to be much help.” This wasn’t a good time to lie. I didn’t want to get lost in a forest. That was what the stupid people did in books and films. They pretended they knew what they were doing when they didn’t to look cool. They always regretted it. I wasn’t going to be that person.
“How exactly did you expect to find Tomlinson?” Jarvin said, looking at me instead of the ground. I shrugged, much as I’d seen him do.
“Luck?”
“Right. Well, maybe it’s lucky we met.” Once more, he appeared to just accept my answer, like it was a natural response, the right one for the right time. I wondered if the game knew enough about me to know what sort of things NPCs should say. Mum said the game was clever. Was it that clever?
I waited as he examined the ground.
“This way... I think,” he said, going in that direction before I could object.
“You think?”
“Yeah, well, it’s not an exact science, is it? I don’t think I’ll get us lost.”
I tried to hide the fear as it washed over me and formed a knot in my stomach. I didn’t want to get lost in this forest. I just wanted to see my sisters again and go back home. This wasn’t that fun anymore. If it ever had been.
Several more times, Jarvin stopped. The third time he looked at the ground. I tried to see what he did, pushing the fear away by trying to learn. There was a chance I could help myself, and it wouldn’t hurt to try. I couldn’t get myself any more lost than I’d been this entire time.
It was starting to get dark when Jarvin stopped for the seventh time.
“Eureka!” Jarvin did a little clapping dance. “Footprints. Proper whole footprints. I’ve not got us lost.”
“They’re not ours, are they?” I asked, partially dreading an answer.
“I don’t think so.” Jarvin scratched his head and looked at his shoes. He then turned and stared at my feet. “No, our shoes are both too small. Look,” he pointed.
I grinned, pleased to see he was right. The prints were bigger, and that meant we had almost found someone else, someone who might be able to help. With renewed energy, we both set off again, a relatively clear trail now available to follow.
Chapter 2
It was getting darker, and Jarvin was struggling to see the footprints and marks left by whomever we were following. The red splotch in the corner of my vision was getting larger again, and would probably take a proper rest to get it to go away. And food, too.
Either way, it was late, and I’d had enough. I frowned and fought back an irritable reply as Jarvin sighed and exclaimed that this was harder than he’d expected for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes.
We walked another few metres before he abruptly stopped, holding up a hand. Once more, I almost smacked straight into the back of him.
“There’s something up ahead,” he whispered.
“It’s probably Tomlinson,” I replied, equally quietly. A moment later I spotted what he had. A faint flicker of light from a fire or small flame.
“Probably.” Jarvin still didn’t move.
“What do you mean, probably?”
“Well, it could be someone else. It’s probably Tomlinson, but it could be anything, from a band of thieves to a party of elf princes who won’t want to be disturbed.”
I gripped my hands into fists, ready to pummel Jarvin and make him give me a sensible answer, but he stepped forward before I could do so. Not sure what else to do, I crept behind him.
As stealthily as we could, we approached the source of light, moving around bushes and stepping carefully over tree roots and errant twigs. Jarvin had the sense to point out each obstacle to me, making his movements easy to copy.
Before long we realised the fire stood entirely alone in a small clearing, a small pot hung over it, the only sign a humanoid or sentient creature had been its cause.
“Well, that’s strange,” Jarvin said, no longer bothering to be quiet or hide his movements. I followed him into the clearing, as confused as he was.
“What do you think made him leave?” I asked, assuming there must be an explanation. He shrugged while I looked around. There were a few more footprints by one tree, and it looked like something round and heavy had been placed there for a while, but there was no evidence as to what.
I walked closer anyway, wondering if I could provide some help with this scouting lark. I’d taken a few steps when I heard a forlorn twittering close by, rather than the merry sound a bird would normally exhibit.
A blackbird sat on the ground, one wing held outwards at a funny angle. It was obviously hurt and in need of help, and I’d never been a person to ignore an injured animal.
Taking each step very slowly, I eased towards the bird as it hopped from side to side nervously. As I came even closer it jumped back, evidently wary of my presence. I stopped and frowned while I thought. I needed to get the creature to trust me somehow.
“Have you got any food?” I asked Jarvin, hoping he’d have a positive answer. A few seconds later he crumbled bread into my outstretched palm and backed away from me again.
Crouching, I held my hand out as far as I could and eased it downwards towards the unfortunate creature. Bit by bit, it came closer, its little beak moving back and forth as it eyed up the food in my hand. I inched forwards as well, until its mouth was close enough to grab a crumb. It swallowed and stretched closer, eager to get some more.
Within a minute, it was perched on a finger, nibbling at the bread while I kept as still as possible.
“There now, little fella,” I said as I finally began to move. I moved just far enough that I could sit on an overturned tree and bring my hand to rest on my lap. At first the bird eyed me warily, looking more than once like it might try and jump back down, but I kept my movements slow and fluid.
As soon as I was settled in one place the blackbird appeared to relax, turning its attention back to the food.
“Do you think the wing is broken?” I asked Jarvin. He had the sense to hang back and approach as cautiously and gently as I had.
“Possib
ly. It’s hard to tell without giving it a feel.” He didn’t get any closer. The bird had stopped eating and was trying to hop further up my arm.
“Easy,” I said as Jarvin rocked backwards again. The bird settled down and resumed nibbling at the food.
“See if you can examine it. It seems to trust you more.” Jarvin nodded towards the bird as if encouraging me.
“What am I feeling for?”
“Take two fingers and run them down the edge of the wing,” said an elderly man as he emerged from behind a large gnarled tree, making Jarvin jump. I glanced at him. The newcomer moved to stand by the campfire, a pile of different root vegetables and other items that looked like they might be herbs in his arms, and a bucket of water hanging from the crook of an elbow.
He evidently wasn’t a threat, and this was obviously his camp. I did as he suggested, letting him guide me while he put down everything he carried near the fire and watched from a safe distance.
Between his wisdom and my probing, we discovered the wing wasn’t broken, but it had been dislocated. I bit my lip as I followed his instructions to set it, while holding the bird tightly with the other hand. The poor thing tried to wriggle against me, but I held firmly enough to prevent it from hurting either of us, and soon it quieted, its wing in the right place, finally.
The man held a small piece of fabric between his gnarled fingers, a small amount of ribbon on two of its corners. I took it, and with a few further instructions, bound the wing in place.
“A few days like that and it should heal up nicely.”
“Thank you,” I replied, slowly loosening my grip on the creature. It hopped onto my lap and to a nearby branch, tweeting merrily. I wondered if it was going to go off somewhere else entirely, but it stayed there, preening its feathers as best it could, given the piece of material that now held one wing to its side.
The man drew himself back up to his full height again. The fire seemed to grow with him, casting his shadow over me as he came closer. I didn’t dare move as I craned my head up to look at him.