First Draw

by Tim Moon

  Jaron took another deep breath. He had survived overwhelming odds. The thing that made him smile though, was that now he had both a fire and some meat.

  Chef Lionhart in the house and tonight’s special is wolf steak!

  26

  After a brief celebration over fending off the wolves, and clearing his notifications, which included leveling his sword skill, Jaron set about cleaning and skinning the dread wolf. A sword was not the ideal tool for skinning, but it was all he had, and it got the job done. He also gained skill progression.

  Congratulations! The pelt may not look pretty, but you skinned the dread wolf with determination. Doing so has progressed your skill by 10%. Continue honing your skills to reach your true potential.

  After he cut off chunks of meat to roast over the fire, Jaron used several sticks to stretch the skin out and let the raw side dry. When he wasn’t tending the meat, he scraped off all the flesh, fat and connective tissue so the skin would cure. He didn’t have any salt or anything to treat the leather and he wasn’t sure how long the skin would last but if he could make something wearable, like a cloak, it would be worth the effort. If nothing else, he could sleep on it until it became too gross to use.

  Jaron did his best to clean sticky bits off his hands, he turned the meat chunks roasting over the fire, and then buried the guts in a shallow hole. His hands were a gruesome mess of dried blood and dirt. He had to wash his hands. Dirt don’t hurt as the old saying went, but when it came to eating, Jaron couldn’t abide filthy hands. Especially after his bout of dysentery from the berries. His nose wrinkled at that terrible memory.

  Bracing himself for another battle, Jaron used terraform to open a small window in the earthen wall and peered outside. Leaving the safety of his den was risky as hell. Not washing his hands after gutting the beast was too much though.

  If only I had a light spell, he thought. Or a water spell. Then I wouldn’t have to go out there.

  Visions of horror films with the main character going outside to investigate strange noises flashed through Jaron’s mind as he emerged with his sword and a torch in hand. He nearly shit himself when he came across the abandoned carcass of another dead wolf. After a fast wash in the stream, he dashed back to his shelter. He paused outside and peeked in just in case there was an ambush.

  Once he was back inside his cave, Jaron closed the opening he created and added some more height to the wall before returning his focus to cooking. His heart continued to pound as he used the sword to slice a piece of meat that looked good. He popped it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds.

  Wolf meat turned out to be stringy and quite gamey. So, not that great in the grand scheme of things. Given that he’d been near starving, it satisfied the groaning chasm of his stomach. Adding to that small victory, he also learned a new skill.

  Congratulations! You have roasted a dread wolf. Doing so unlocked the life skill Cooking. You have progressed 10% through level 1. Reward: 50 XP Continue honing your skills to reach your true potential.

  Jaron lay down to sleep that night with a full belly and a contented smile on his face.

  27

  Jaron awoke with a groan, thoroughly exhausted. Sleep had been fitful thanks to the wolves. Every strange sound woke him up and sent his heart racing. He tried to lounge after sunrise but at that point he was wide awake.

  Jaron prepared to leave his refuge. He tied the pelt onto the goblin backpack so the raw side could get sun and air while he walked. Then he kicked dirt over the remaining coals. Next, he created a hole in his dirt wall to see if it was safe outside. A quick glance and he was satisfied that the immediate area appeared safe.

  Casting terraform, Jaron moved a section of the dirt wall and braced himself for an attack. He stood in the gap and scanned the forest carefully. The dread wolves were a threat that never came.

  Jaron took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

  According to his map, he could continue following the stream west. Fang Marsh was about half a day or so to the south which helped him maintain direction. The attack had Jaron on high alert, and he paid extra attention to maintaining awareness of his surroundings.

  The terrain became increasingly rocky and soon he had to pick his way over, around and sometimes through large rock fields. Some were clearly from landslides, with dead, dried trees crushed between the boulders. There were few standing trees and the day grew warmer and warmer as the sun rose. He stayed close to the stream when he could and frequently splashed water on his body to stay cool.

  Tall cliffs ran along the stream to his right, the north bank. Birds sang in the forest and the water gurgled on its endless journey. Two dragonflies the size of pigeons buzzed overhead, circling Jaron before zipping away. The sound of their wings rang in his ears long after they flew away. If that was the size of dragonflies, Jaron did not want to imagine how big the mosquitos might get.

  The peace and solitude of trekking through the forest infused Jaron. The weight of the attack lifted from his shoulders and he found himself enjoying his surroundings.

  Distant barks and howls brought an abrupt end to Jaron’s peace. Blood pulsed heavily in his neck, rushing in his ears, and his breath came in short huffs. The wolves must have returned to his shelter.

  Hoping that wolves didn’t feel a need for revenge, Jaron scowled and picked up his pace anyway, hoping to avoid another encounter. If they caught him in the open, his options were limited. On his side of the stream were rocks and the cliffs that seemed to continue into the distance without a dip or break. There was no way he would attempt to scale the sheer wall unless he absolutely had no other choice. On the other side of the stream was forest that eventually led to Fang Marsh. There was no way he would return there until he was stronger and better trained, and even then, only if he had to.

  Jaron jogged where he could, anything to create distance between him and the dread wolf pack. He estimated that he had fought roughly 7 or 8 individual wolves the night before. Several had been injured and at least two had died. How many more could be left? Would the dread wolf alpha keep hunting Jaron until he was dead? The thought was unsettling.

  If they really were tracking him, they had to be doing so mostly by smell. The ground had been too rocky to leave footprints. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized that he carried a huge scent marker on his back.

  “Come on, you’re better than that,” Jaron growled at himself.

  The wolf pack could be following one of two scents — his or the wolf pelt on his back. Jaron entered the stream. That would at least diminish his trail and might confuse any pursuers.

  Jaron walked through the water for several hundred meters until the water grew too deep and then emerged on the forest side where the ground was easier to run on. He went about ten meters into the forest, keeping the stream mostly in sight, while jogging downstream.

  Just to mess with the wolves, he circled around trees a few times, rubbing the pelt against a few trunks before backtracking and then walking through the water again. Two hundred meters later, Jaron emerged onto the rocks. His thighs burned from all the running and walking, but he didn’t stop even to read his latest notification, he just skimmed it as he kept moving.

  Congratulations! You have taken evasive action to throw off a potential adversary. Doing so has unlocked the skill Tracking and the sub-skill Counter-Tracking. You have progressed 10% through level 1 of Tracking and 20% through level 1 of Counter-Tracking. Reward: 100 XP Note: Your sub-skill rank cannot exceed the rank of the parent skill. Continue honing your skills to reach your true potential.

  A bunch of scenarios ran through his mind. Counter-tracking was something spies and snipers would use. If he developed the skill, it would give him an edge over other characters. Relatively few players and even fewer NPCs would go to such lengths to throw off pursuit. Unless they were rogues or assassins. Jaron started to ponder that when another notification drew his attention.

  The tiny bump in XP from the new skills put Jar
on over the edge for level 3. His grin broadened as he read the prompt.

  Hooah! You are now level 3! Ambition is nothing without action, and you have both. Continue to strive for greatness. You now have 6 attribute points and 50% skill progress to distribute within the next 48 hours. Do not delay or they will be allocated for you.

  Jaron did a little fist pump in the air before contemplating how to distribute his points. Cyprus had shed some light on the matter when they discussed it, but Jaron still felt unsure. When he reached Oakenport, he would take the time to learn more about classes. Luckily, he knew his play style without a doubt. Only two main questions remained: what classes are available and what are the requirements to unlock them?

  Jaron was going to pursue a character build along the lines of a ranger or scout-sniper. Whatever the class was called in Drezkarn, Jaron wanted to be deadly at range yet capable in a close combat situation. Kind of like the Army Special Forces or Navy SEALs of old.

  With that overall goal in mind, Jaron stopped walking for a moment to focus. He placed 1 point in strength and 2 points in agility to bring them both up to 12. He also put 1 point into constitution to boost his health points and the final 2 points into intelligence for extra mana. That brought both his health and stamina to 110 points and his mana up to 120 points.

  Skill point allocation was a quick and easy process. He brought analyze up to level 2 and added the final 10% to survival. Since survival was his most advanced skill the progress did little to advance it, but even small investments over time would grow into something amazing.

  With his allocations complete, Jaron continued his journey at a jog. The next few hours were a tense game of cat and mouse and unfortunately, Jaron was the mouse. He alternated between walking and jogging through the beautiful landscape. Crossing the stream in a shallow area, he used terraform to move the rocks and dirt he just trod over.

  There had not been a howl since the first one, which served as a real confidence booster. Jaron grinned at the thought of the frustrated dread wolves searching desperately for his scent. Even so, he wasn’t taking any chances. If he were caught out in the open it would be nearly impossible to fend off the pack on his own.

  With a grumble like an angry bear, Jaron’s stomach interrupted his thoughts. He removed the backpack and dug out some dried wolf meat he saved from the feast the night before. It definitely needed seasoning or a nice marinade, like teriyaki sauce. The bland, stringy meat tested the strength of his teeth. Eventually he settled for letting his saliva do the hard work and soften it up before he began to chew. The meat gave him calories and for the time being, that was enough.

  Barks and howls broke the relaxing silence of the forest. The sound was so close that Jaron wondered if they were right around the corner. How had they found him? It didn’t matter at that moment, he had to move his ass.

  Cursing through a mouthful of half-chewed wolf jerky, Jaron shouldered the backpack and took off at a run. His eyes darted from the ground in front of him to either side of the stream for a place he could hide or defend himself.

  The cliffs had begun to drop closer to the water. They still towered twenty to forty feet above the ground but that was manageable. Jaron splashed across the stream and continued running until he found a steep draw that didn’t look impossible to climb up. That would at least give him the high ground for a time. If he was lucky, he might lose them among the boulders.

  As soon as he thought it, he snorted. If they had untangled his stream crossing and the false trails, they would find him unless he learned how to fly in the next few minutes.

  Jaron adjusted the backpack, took a deep breath and started to climb the draw. The loose gravel and dirt made it utterly exhausting. It was like walking up a sand dune. Half his energy was lost to the soft ground shifting under his feet.

  Jaron was on all fours, clawing his way up when a wolf howled again, closer this time. He didn’t even bother to look back, he just redoubled his effort and kept climbing. Gravel scraped his hands and feet. It had grown so steep that falling now would surely kill him. He clawed his way up like a madman, huffing and puffing with burning lungs and sweat pouring down his face and back. Jaron was The Little Engine That Could. And he did. He pulled himself up the last few feet and stood.

  The top of the cliff was mostly a narrow ridge with only a few flat spots. Jaron looked down at what he just climbed, truly shocked that he made it. He dropped to the ground as wolves came into view, sniffing along the stream and barking the occasional signal to the pack. He stayed low and began to move away from the draw.

  “Please don’t catch me,” he said, repeating it like a mantra.

  Then the alpha came into view. He stalked in with the bearing of a general on the battlefield. Jaron’s eyes widened at seeing them in full daylight. It revealed just how fearsome they were.

  The alpha trotted among his pack with a determined stride, confident and proud while they scoured the area for his trail. Jaron’s jaw dropped when it was clear the alpha’s injuries had either healed completely or had not been as substantial as he had thought. He could have sworn he put a stone spike through the creature’s paw.

  More wolves emerged from the forest on the far side of the stream. Jaron felt his pulse quicken at the sheer size of the dread wolf pack. The alpha had at least another ten or twelve healthy wolves to throw at him.

  Jaron’s heart fluttered and then skipped a beat. How could he prevail against so many? After all, if he could climb the draw, so could they.

  Several wolves continued to scout further ahead while the others slowly, methodically sniffed the banks nearby. Within seconds, the wolf scouts returned and barked a message. It was clear they knew the trail ended in that area.

  “Incredible,” Jaron muttered.

  Time was running out. Jaron began to cast terraform to block the draw. Holding a vision of what he wanted the earth to do, he unleashed the spell and moved his hands. Dirt shifted and began to grow. He moved the dirt slowly to avoid making noise. A mound of earth rose to create a wall at the top that spanned the eight-foot gap that led to the clifftop.

  Jaron let out a gasp as the spell left him. The wall looked solid. It wasn’t packed earth or pure stone, but it should slow down any that followed his scent up the loose scree.

  While the pack hunted, Jaron turned to take advantage of the temporary reprieve to backtrack along the ridge. As soon as he turned and took a step, he heard the grinding and clacking of rocks sliding and falling against each other.

  Cringing, Jaron turned to glance over his shoulder. The loose, unstable dirt of the wall slumped and gave way along the front edge. As he watched, a half-dozen rocks plummeted free and tumbled down the draw, kicking off a small avalanche of sand and rocks, making a terrible racket.

  Several wolves lifted their heads to gaze at the disturbance. The alpha did as well, and then turned to meet Jaron’s eyes. He felt that familiar spark of fear at being caught doing something sneaky and the thrilling rush of adrenalin that accompanied it.

  The alpha narrowed his eyes and with a snarl and bark, the alpha sent eight of its pack charging up the hill. Jaron started to cast stone spike at the alpha, but he didn’t have enough range on the spell.

  Instead, he turned his focus to the wolves racing up the hill. They would be blocked by the wall he created, but it was loose earth that they could dig through. Jaron frantically glanced around him for a way out. He was on a narrow ridge with steep slopes or sharp cliffs on either side. What he did have was a plethora of rocks. He was no baseball player, but Jaron knew he could rain down a deadly hailstorm of stones on the wolves. How many of the moving targets could he actually hit?

  Picking up a few stones, Jaron hurled them one after the other. One managed to bounce and hit the wolf in the side, but the others missed by a healthy margin. Tossing the heavy stones was surprisingly tiring after scrambling up the scree. He wouldn’t be able to keep up that kind of assault for long.

  Exhaustion burned in every limb
and Jaron’s pulse pounded faster than the beat of an EDM song as he tried to formulate with a winning plan. Eight vicious dread wolves bore down on his position, with at least five more down below. He had limited resources and no allies to rely on.

  An icon in his vision blinked. The cool-down timer on terraform elapsed. Looking down at the wolves scrambling up the steep slope gave Jaron an idea.

  Following the chant and physical motions of the spell, Jaron mentally aimed at the hill in front of the wolves. Some of them had bunched up and that made them vulnerable.

  In the blink of an eye, 100 cubic yards of the hillside suddenly pulled back to form a deep shaft. The bunched group of four wolves vanished into the pit with yelps of surprise that made the other four wolves hesitate.

  Bones snapped loudly as the wolves struck the bottom. He watched in morbid fascination as the void created by his spell caused loose stones and debris to slide into the shaft. The rubble pelted the crumpled and broken bodies at the bottom. Jaron had no doubt the stones would finish off any who managed to survive the fall.

  A quick glance at Jaron’s combat log, which noted a 200 XP gain, confirmed his suspicion. All four wolves had died.

  Jaron 4, Wolves 0, he thought with wicked smile.

  Some of the pressure was off and it just might be enough to turn the tide. Jaron marveled at the results of the simple utility spell.

  His respite ended abruptly when the alpha snarled, prompting the survivors to resume their pursuit. Jaron looked down at the big wolf who watched from below, glaring at him.