Chapter 13: Night Moves

  The Forge - Wilderness Northeast of Crossroads Village

  Day 15 - 0923 Hours

  The forest smelled like rot and pine needles and something else I couldn't identify. Something organic and wrong, like meat left too long in the sun. We'd been riding for three hours, following game trails that barely qualified as paths, and my ass hurt in ways I hadn't known were possible.

  "How much further?" someone asked from behind me.

  "Until we find something," Okoye said. "Or until we decide there's nothing to find."

  "That's not an answer."

  "It's the only answer you're getting."

  I shifted in the saddle, trying to find a position that didn't make my thighs scream. Chafing was a new sensation for me, and one I wasn't too fond of. The horse, a brown mare with a white blaze that someone had named Biscuit, seemed perfectly content to keep walking forever. I was not.

  James rode up beside me, his expression thoughtful. "You ever ride before this?"

  "No."

  "Shows."

  "Thanks."

  "Not an insult. Just an observation." He adjusted his bow across his back. "You're gripping with your knees too much. Relax. Let your hips move with the horse."

  I tried. It didn't help much, but I appreciated the advice.

  We'd left the village at dawn, six of us plus three other QRF units heading in different directions. Ours was the northeastern route, the most direct path based on the goblin attack patterns. Which meant it was probably the most dangerous, but no one had said that out loud.

  Davis was riding point with Okoye, both of them scanning the forest with the kind of focused attention that suggested they expected an ambush at any moment. Petrov brought up the rear, silent as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  "We should stop soon," James said. "Find water, maybe hunt something."

  "Hunt what?" I asked.

  "Whatever we can find. Deer, rabbit, squirrel. Anything with meat on it."

  My stomach growled at the mention of food. We'd left with minimal rations, dried meat, hard bread, some kind of grain that was supposed to be mixed with water to make porridge. The bread tasted like cardboard. It was the first food I'd had in the Forge that wasn't amazing, which made me inordinately mad for some reason.The meat tasted like salted leather. The porridge tasted like paste.

  "There," DAVIS called, pointing ahead. "Stream."

  We dismounted near a narrow creek that cut through the forest floor. The water was clear, cold, moving fast over smooth stones. I filled my water bottle, drank deeply, filled it again. The water tasted clean. Better than anything we'd had at the compound.

  "Smith," Okoye said. "You know anything about foraging?"

  "Some. Basic stuff from survival training."

  "What survival training?"

  I hesitated. "YouTube videos, mostly."

  She stared at me. "You learned survival skills from YouTube."

  "It was a very thorough playlist."

  James laughed. Okoye didn't.

  "Fine," she said. "You and Davis go find something edible. Plants, mushrooms, whatever. Don't poison us."

  "I'll do my best."

  "Do better than your best."

  We moved into the forest, leaving the others to set up a temporary camp and tend the horses. Davis had his bow ready, scanning for game. I looked for plants I recognized.

  Found some wild onions growing near a fallen log. Pulled them up, brushed off the dirt, added them to my pack. Found what looked like dandelion greens, edible, bitter, but nutritious. Found some berries that might have been blackberries or might have been something that would kill us. Left those alone.

  "There," Davis whispered.

  I followed his gaze. A rabbit, maybe twenty yards away, nibbling on something near the base of a tree. Brown fur, white tail, completely oblivious to our presence.

  Davis drew his bow. Slow, smooth, no wasted movement. Aimed. Released.

  The arrow took the rabbit through the chest. It kicked once, then went still.

  "Nice shot," I said.

  "Basic stuff." He walked over, pulled the arrow free, picked up the rabbit by its hind legs. "You know how to clean this?"

  "In theory."

  "Good enough."

  We brought it back to camp. Okoye looked at the rabbit, then at the wild onions and greens I'd collected.

  "Not bad," she admitted. "Davis, get a fire going. We'll cook this, eat, then keep moving."

  Davis started gathering wood. Petrov helped, his movements efficient and practiced. James was checking his sword, running a whetstone along the blade with steady strokes.

  I sat down near the creek and started cleaning the rabbit. Cut the head off, made an incision along the belly, pulled out the organs. Messy work, but not complicated. I may or may not have half destroyed the rabbit though. No way this would feed the six of us.

  "You've done that before." James comment wryly.

  "This is a bit harder than it looks."

  "I hope not, you made. itlook damn near impossible."

  I grunted as he walked away chortling.

  The fire caught. Davis fed it carefully, building it up until we had a decent bed of coals. I skewered the rabbit on a green stick, propped it over the fire, added the wild onions around the edges.

  We waited. The smell of cooking meat filled the clearing. My stomach growled again, louder this time.

  "How long were you in the hospital?" Okoye asked suddenly.

  I looked up. She was watching me with that same evaluating expression she always had.

  "Why?"

  "Because you move like someone who's still remembering how. Like your body's new and you're not quite used to it yet."

  "That's pretty accurate, actually."

  "So how long?"

  I turned the rabbit, watching fat drip into the fire. "Two years if you add up visits. Give or take."

  "Jesus," James said.

  "It wasn't that bad."

  "Two years in a hospital sounds pretty bad."

  "Could've been worse."

  Okoye was still watching me. "What was wrong with you?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Might. If it affects your performance."

  "It doesn't."

  "You sure about that?"

  I met her eyes. "I'm here, aren't I? I'm functional. I'm doing the job. What else do you need to know?"

  She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough."

  The rabbit finished cooking. We divided it six ways, added the onions and greens, ate in silence. The meat was tough and gamey and slightly burnt. Still a far cry better than the trail rations.

  "We should move," Okoye said when we'd finished. "Want to cover more ground before dark."

  James shook his head. "We're stopping here. It's getting late, terrain's shit, and we're all tired. Better to rest and move fresh in the morning."

  "But the mission-" Okoye started.

  "The mission will still be there tomorrow. We're no good to anyone if we're exhausted and making mistakes." James stood, brushing crumbs from his pants. "We camp here. Petrov, you've got first watch. Two hours. Then Okoye. Then Davis. Then me. Smith, you're last, you'll take us from 0400 to dawn. Everyone clear?"

  We nodded. There was something reassuring about the structure, the clear expectations. No ambiguity.

  We set up camp in a small clearing maybe fifty meters off the trail. No fire, James wasn't taking chances, but we arranged our bedrolls in a rough circle with good sight lines. Petrov took position on a low rise to the north, spear across his lap, while the rest of us settled in.

  I was asleep before my head hit the bedroll.

  Someone was shaking my shoulder.

  "Smith. Your watch."

  I surfaced slowly, consciousness arriving in pieces. James's face was a dark shape above me, barely visible in the pre-dawn gloom. I nodded, not trusting my voice yet, and he withdrew.

  I lay there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust. The forest was different at this hour, quieter, but not peaceful. There was a watchfulness to it. The mist hung low between the trees, thick enough that I could only see maybe twenty meters in any direction. Everything beyond that was suggestion and shadow.

  I pushed myself up carefully, joints protesting. My muscles were sore, genuinely sore, the kind of ache that came from real exertion, but it was a good ache. The kind that meant I'd done something.

  The kind I hadn't felt since I was a kid.

  I stood, and my knees didn't buckle. My ankles didn't give. I took a few experimental steps, and my body responded exactly as I asked it to. No lag. No negotiation. Just movement.

  I couldn't help it. I smiled.

  The mist was cold against my face as I moved to the watch position James had vacated. I could see the camp behind me, five dark shapes on bedrolls, arranged in their defensive circle. Ahead, the forest dissolved into white. Somewhere in that white, things were probably moving. Hunting. Living their digital lives.

  I did some stretches while I waited, keeping my movements slow and controlled. Touched my toes, actually touched them, my palms flat against the ground. Rotated my shoulders. Twisted my spine. Each movement was a small miracle, a negotiation with a body that had spent years refusing to cooperate.

  This body didn't refuse anything.

  I pulled up my status sheet with a mental command, curious. The blue interface materialized in front of me, and I scanned through the familiar stats.

  ADAM SMITH

  STRENGTH: 4

  STAMINA: 4

  AGILITY: 5

  MIND: 10

  LEVEL: 0

  I stopped. Agility was 5. It had been 4 yesterday.

  I scrolled back through my memory, trying to remember when I'd last checked. After the goblin fight? Yes. It had been 4 then. All the running, the climbing, the constant movement through rough terrain, it was actually working. The system was actually tracking it, actually rewarding it.

  I was getting better. Measurably, quantifiably better.

  The thought should have felt strange. Instead, it felt like confirmation of something I already knew. My body was changing. I could feel it in the way I moved, the way I breathed, the way my muscles responded. The stats were just numbers, but they were numbers that meant something. They meant progress.

  They meant I wasn't broken anymore.

  The mist began to lighten as I stood watch. The darkness shifted from absolute black to deep gray to something approaching visibility. Birds started calling from the canopy, tentative at first, then with more confidence. The forest was waking up.

  Around 0530, I heard movement from the others. Okoye was up, checking on people, making sure everyone was ready. By 0545, the others were all up. By 0600, we were breaking camp, rolling up bedrolls, checking gear.

  "Anything?" Okoye asked me as she passed.

  "Quiet. Heard some animals moving around, but nothing that came close."

  She nodded. "Good. Get some water, eat something. We move in ten."

  I did as instructed, my body moving with an efficiency that still felt new. The water was cold and tasted like minerals and earth. The trail rations were as unpleasant as always, but I ate them anyway. Fuel. That's all they were. Fuel for this body that was learning to do things I'd never thought possible.

  By 0610, we were mounted and moving again, heading deeper into the forest. The mist was burning off as the sun climbed higher, revealing the landscape in patches. The trees seemed less threatening in daylight. More like just trees.

  But I could still feel it, that sense of change, of transformation. One point of dexterity. One small number that represented hours of movement, of struggle, of pushing a body that had spent years refusing to move.

  One point that meant I was improving, not the reverse that I was used to.

  And if I could gain one point, I could gain another. And another after that.

  The thought carried me forward into the morning, it was addictive.

  "This is shit terrain," Davis muttered as we rode.

  "Noted," Okoye said.

  "I'm just saying, if we get ambushed here-"

  "Then we fight. Same as anywhere else."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  We kept moving. The sun climbed higher, filtered through the canopy in scattered patches of light. Birds called from somewhere above us. Something small and fast moved through the underbrush to our left.

  Then Okoye raised her hand. "Contact. Ahead."

  We stopped. I couldn't see anything at first. Then movement, shapes between the trees, low to the ground, moving with purpose.

  Goblins. Maybe eight of them. Heading perpendicular to our path, not toward us. Hadn't seen us yet.

  James made a hand signal. Dismount. Quiet.

  We slid off our horses, tied them to trees, moved forward on foot. Drew weapons. James and I took the front with our spears and shields. Petrov and the other soldier, Martin I think, drew swords. Davis and Okoye took the back with bows, arrows nocked and ready.

  The goblins were still moving, oblivious. Talking to each other in their harsh, guttural language. Carrying crude spears and clubs.

  James pointed. Okoye and Davis would shoot first. The others would charge after the first volley.

  I hefted my spear, waiting with trepidation but also a bit of excitement. I was a bit concerned the goblins would hear my heartbeat since it was pounding out of my chest.

  Two faint twangs sounded and arrows hissed by toward the goblins.

  Okoye's arrow took a goblin in the chest, perfect center of mass shot. Davis's hit another in the shoulder. Both dropped. The others spun, searching for the threat.

  Then James, Petrov, Martin, and I hit them like a hammer.

  It was over in seconds. Brutal, efficient, workmanlike. Petrov's sword took a goblin's head off. Martin stabbed one through the gut. James's spear punched through a goblin's chest and out its back. My spear ran one through the leg since I had aimed a bit too low, but I quickly ended it by recovering and thrusting again through it's chest. The leaf shaped blade of my spear punching through the goblin's weak ribcage.

  Eight goblins. Dead in under thirty seconds.

  "Check them," James ordered. "Take anything useful."

  We searched the bodies. Found a few crude knives, some strips of dried meat that might have been edible, a handful of arrows that were poorly made but functional. We took the arrows. Left the meat.

  "Move out," James said.

  We kept going. Found another group of goblins an hour later, six this time. Same result. Quick, efficient, brutal. Found three hobgoblins after that. Bigger, tougher, but still manageable. Petrov took a knife to the shoulder, shallow, not serious. I washed it, stitched it, bandaged it, told him to keep moving.

  "This is too easy," Martin said as we rode away from the hobgoblin corpses.

  "Don't say that," Davis said. "You'll jinx us."

  "I'm just saying, if this is all we're dealing with-"

  "Contact!" Petrov shouted.

  Something burst from the underbrush to our right. Low, fast, scaled. Lizard-like but bipedal, maybe four feet tall, with a long tail and a mouth full of sharp teeth. It carried a short spear and wore crude leather armor.

  Three more appeared behind it.

  "Kobolds!" James yelled.

  The creatures moved fast. Faster than goblins. More coordinated. They spread out, flanking us, forcing us to split our attention.

  I stabbed one. Hit it in the shoulder. It screamed, a high-pitched, hissing sound, but kept coming. Okoye shot another. Petrov engaged a third with his sword.

  The one I'd stabbed seemed unbothered. It grabbed my shield and stabbed at me with its own spear. I dodged, barely, felt the point scrape across my ribs through my leather armor. I dropped my spear. Drew my knife.

  The kobold lunged again. I sidestepped, slashed at its arm. Connected. It hissed, dropped the spear, came at me with claws and teeth.

  I stabbed it in the throat. Twisted. Pulled the knife free as it collapsed.

  Around me, the others were finishing their opponents. Okoye shot another arrow into the one she had already hit. James speared another. Petrov cut the last one down with a brutal overhead strike.

  Four kobolds. Dead. But it had taken longer than the goblins. Required more effort.

  "Everyone okay?" James asked.

  "Scratch on my ribs," I said. "Not deep."

  "Anyone else?"

  Davis had a bite on his forearm. Martin had a cut across his cheek. Nothing serious. Nothing that would slow us down.

  "What the hell were those?" Davis asked.

  "Kobolds," James repeated. "Lizard people. Usually live in caves or ruins."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I played a lot of D&D."

  "Of course you did."

  We kept moving. The sun was dropping toward the horizon now, shadows lengthening between the trees. We needed to find a place to camp. Somewhere defensible. Somewhere we could rest.

  "There," Davis said, pointing ahead. "Clearing."

  It wasn't much. Maybe thirty feet across, relatively flat, with good sightlines in all directions. A small stream ran along one edge. Trees formed a natural perimeter.

  "This'll work," James said. "Set up camp. Petrov, Davis, gather firewood. Okoye, martin, tend the horses. Smith, check everyone's wounds properly."

  I did. James's shoulder was fine, the knife had barely penetrated. Davis's bite was shallow, already clotting. Martin's cut was clean, would heal without issue. My ribs hurt but the scratch was superficial.

  "We're good," I reported.

  "For now," Okoye said.

  We built two fires. One in the center of the clearing for warmth and cooking. One near the perimeter for light and security. Gathered more wood than we thought we'd need. Set up a watch rotation, two people at a time, two-hour shifts. No one objected to the increased watch, we all felt the gloom pushing in on us.

  Ate more dried meat and hard bread. Drank water from the stream. Tried to get comfortable on the hard ground with minimal bedrolls.

  "First watch," James said. "Martin and Petrov. Then Okoye and Davis. Then Smith and me."

  "Lucky us," I said.

  "Get some sleep while you can."

  I tried. Lay on my back, staring up at the canopy, watching the last light fade from the sky. Around me, the others were settling in. James was already snoring somehow. Davis was muttering something in another language. Martin and Petrov were at opposite ends of the clearing, watching the darkness.

  The fire crackled. Sparks drifted upward. The forest was full of sounds, wind in the trees, water in the stream, small animals moving through the underbrush.

  I closed my eyes.

  Opened them thirty seconds later when something screamed in the distance.

  "What was that?" Davis asked.

  "Nothing good," James said.

  The screaming stopped. The forest went quiet. Too quiet.

  Then the attacks began.

  Day 16 - 2147 Hours

  The first wave hit just after full dark.

  They came from the north. Maybe a dozen goblins, moving fast through the trees, their eyes glowing red in the firelight. Not reflecting. Glowing. Like embers in the darkness.

  "Contact!" Okoye shouted.

  Everyone was up, weapons ready. I grabbed my spear and shield, back to the others, and stared at the nearest pair of red eyes.

  An arrow hissed over my shoulder.

  The goblin dropped. Another took its place. James shot one. Okoye shot two. Petrov's spear took one through the chest.

  They kept coming.

  We formed a defensive line. Backs to the fire, facing outward. The goblins circled us, staying just beyond the firelight, their eyes glowing in the darkness.

  "They can see us," James said. "But we can't see them."

  "Infrared," I said. "They're seeing our heat signatures."

  "Great. Fucking great."

  A goblin charged from the left. Davis cut it down. Another from the right. Martin stabbed it. Two more from straight ahead. I stabbed one through the throat, my thrust hitting higher than I intended. Okoye shot the other.

  Then they pulled back. Melted into the darkness. Gone.

  "Everyone okay?" James asked.

  "Fine," Martin said.

  "Good," Petrov said.

  "Peachy," Davis added.

  We waited. Watched the darkness and breathing hard. Saw nothing but those red eyes, circling, watching, waiting.

  "They're testing us," Okoye said. "Seeing how we respond."

  "And?"

  "And they'll be back."

  She was right.

  The second wave came twenty minutes later. More goblins this time. Maybe twenty. Hitting from multiple directions simultaneously.

  We fought them off. Lost count of how many I stabbed. Thrust, recover. Lost track of time. Just kept stabbing toward the little hateful creatures.

  They pulled back again. My shield felt heavy on my left arm, the spear was lead in my right. Several shallow cuts had accumulated over my arms and legs.

  Third wave. Fourth wave. Fifth.

  The attacks kept coming. Not constant. Not overwhelming. Just persistent. Harassing. Wearing us down.

  "We need to put out the fire," Okoye said during a lull.

  "Then we can't see anything," Davis argued.

  "We can barely see anything now. And the fires are drawing them."

  "She's right," James said. "The fire is a beacon, even if they can see in the dark. But we can't. So we need it."

  "So what do we do?"

  "We keep the fire going and we keep fighting. Because if we put it out, we're completely blind and they'll overrun us in minutes."

  So we kept the fire burning. Kept feeding it wood. Kept fighting off waves of goblins that came at us from the darkness.

  James took a spear to the leg. Not deep, but bleeding. I bandaged it between attacks. Told him to stay off it. He ignored my stupid comment.

  Okoye got clawed across the back. Three long scratches, not serious but painful. I cleaned them, wrapped them, told her to be careful. She nodded and went back to fighting.

  Davis twisted his ankle dodging. Petrov got hit in the face with a club, split his lip and gashed his forehead, kept fighting anyway.

  The attacks continued through the night. Wave after wave. Never enough to overwhelm us. Just enough to keep us from resting. To wear us down. To exhaust us.

  I lost count of how many times they had come. Lost track of how many goblins I killed. Just kept fighting. Kept moving. Kept doing my job.

  My hands were shaking. My arms were tired. My eyes burned from smoke and exhaustion.

  "How long until dawn?" James asked.

  "Too long," Okoye said.

  Another wave. More goblins. More red eyes in the darkness. More fighting.

  We were running low on arrows. Started pulling them from goblin corpses when I could. Some were broken. Some were too damaged to use. I took what I could find.

  "Smith!" Okoye called. "Martin's down!"

  I ran over. Martin was on the ground, clutching his side. Blood between his fingers. Spear wound, looked deep.

  "How bad?" he asked.

  "Bad enough. Hold still."

  I worked fast. Cut away his shirt, examined the wound. Deep puncture, maybe four inches, angled upward. Might have nicked something internal. Might not. Hard to tell in the firelight with goblins attacking.

  "This is going to hurt," I said.

  "Everything hurts."

  I packed the wound with cloth, applied pressure, wrapped it tight. Not ideal. Not proper medical care. But enough to keep him from bleeding out.

  "Can you fight?" Okoye asked.

  "Can I fight?" Martin laughed. It sounded slightly hysterical. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Not really."

  He stood up. Picked up his sword. Went back to the line.

  The attacks kept coming.

  I was so tired I could barely think. My body was moving on autopilot. Thrust, recover. Thrust, recover. Check wounds. Apply bandages. Back to fighting.

  The fire was burning low. We were running out of wood. Running out of arrows. Running out of energy.

  "How much longer?" Davis asked.

  "An hour?" Okoye said. "Maybe."

  "I don't have the energy."

  "Then find some."

  Another wave. Smaller this time. Maybe six goblins. We killed them. They pulled back.

  The darkness was starting to fade. Not much. Just a slight lessening of the absolute black. The first hint of dawn.

  "Almost there," James said. "Almost fucking there."

  The last wave came just before sunrise. Ten goblins. Desperate. Aggressive. Like they knew this was their final chance.

  We fought them off. Killed them all. Watched the last one fall as the sun broke over the horizon.

  The red eyes disappeared. The forest went quiet.

  We stood there, weapons ready, waiting for another attack.

  It didn't come.

  "They're gone," Martin said.

  "For now," Okoye said.

  We collapsed. Just sat down where we were standing. Too exhausted to move. Too tired to care.

  I looked around the clearing. Goblin corpses everywhere. Maybe forty of them. Maybe more. Blood on the ground. Blood on our weapons. Blood on our clothes.

  "Everyone alive?" James asked.

  "Define alive," Davis said.

  "Breathing. Conscious. Capable of movement."

  "Then yeah. Barely."

  James stood up. Walked to the edge of the clearing. Looked out at the forest. Came back.

  "We're heading back," he said.

  "What about the mission?" Martin asked.

  "Fuck the mission. We can't maintain a forward position like this. Can't scout effectively if we're fighting all night. Can't gather intelligence if we're too exhausted to function."

  "The officers-"

  "Will understand. Or they won't. Either way, we're going back."

  No one argued. We were too tired to argue.

  We gathered our gear. Put out the fires. Checked the horses, they'd survived the night, somehow, though they looked as exhausted as we felt.

  "Mount up," James said. "We move in five minutes."

  I was checking my medical supplies when the interface appeared.

  ARIA SYSTEM NOTIFICATION

  LEVEL ADVANCEMENT ACHIEVED

  I stared at the text floating in my vision.

  SOLDIER: ADAM SMITH

  LEVEL 0 → LEVEL 1

  ATTRIBUTE POINTS AVAILABLE: 1

  One point. One single point after a night of constant combat. After killing dozens of goblins. After keeping my team alive through wave after wave of attacks.

  One point.

  It felt stingy. Insulting, almost. Like ARIA was saying "good job, here's a participation trophy."

  But it was something. Growth. Progress. Proof that the system worked.

  I pulled up my stats.

  CURRENT METRICS:

  STRENGTH: 4

  STAMINA: 4

  AGILITY: 5

  MIND: 10

  AVAILABLE POINTS: 1

  I considered my options.

  Strength would let me hit harder. Carry more. Be more effective in melee combat. But strength hadn't hindered me so far. I was a medic. Hitting harder didn't help me much with a blade or spear.

  Stamina would let me last longer. Recover faster. Keep going when others were exhausted. That was tempting. Last night had proven how important endurance was.

  Mind was already at ten. Didn't need more. Couldn't use more, probably.

  Agility.

  Speed. Coordination. Reflexes. Accuracy.

  Not getting hit was better than being able to take a hit. Moving faster meant dodging attacks. Better coordination meant more accurate thrusts. Faster reflexes meant reacting to threats before they became lethal.

  Agility made sense.

  I selected it.

  AGILITY: 5 → 6

  CURRENT METRICS:

  STRENGTH: 4

  STAMINA: 4

  AGILITY: 6

  MIND: 10

  LEVEL: 1

  The interface faded. I waited to feel different. Faster. More coordinated.

  Felt exactly the same. Exhausted. Sore. Covered in blood and dirt.

  Maybe it would be noticeable later. Maybe it was too subtle to feel immediately. Maybe I'd just wasted my single point on a stat increase that didn't actually do anything.

  "Smith!" Okoye called. "We're moving!"

  I mounted Biscuit. The horse shifted under me, and I adjusted automatically, my hips moving with her motion, my balance better than it had been yesterday.

  Maybe the point had done something after all.

  We rode out of the clearing. Left the goblin corpses behind. Headed back toward the village.

  "Successful scouting mission," Davis said. His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  "We learned things," Martin said.

  "Like what?"

  "Like goblins can see in the dark. Like fires are a bad idea. Like we need better gear and better tactics if we're going to operate at night."

  "So we learned we're not ready."

  "That's still learning."

  We rode in silence. The forest looked different in daylight. Less threatening. Almost peaceful. Hard to believe we'd spent the night fighting for our lives.

  "You did good," Okoye said quietly. She'd dropped back to ride beside me.

  "Thanks."

  "Kept everyone alive. Kept fighting. Didn't freeze."

  "That's the job."

  "Yeah. But you did it." She paused.

  "High praise."

  "It's the best you're getting."

  I smiled despite my exhaustion. "I'll take it."

  We kept riding. The sun climbed higher. The forest thinned. Eventually we saw smoke from the village fires in the distance.

  "Almost there," James said.

  "Thank fuck," Davis muttered.

  We rode through the village gates toward the end of the day, the travel back much faster without incidents. Other scout teams were already back. Some looked better than us. Some looked worse. One team was missing two soldiers.

  Lieutenant Voss was waiting. He looked at us, exhausted, bloody, barely functional, and nodded.

  "Report," he said.

  "Goblins have infrared vision," James said. "Possibly thermal. They can see in complete darkness. They used harassment tactics all night. Prevented rest. Wore us down. We couldn't maintain position."

  "Casualties?"

  "None dead. Multiple wounded. All functional."

  "Other teams reported similar experiences. The ones that survived." He paused. "We're not ready for extended operations. Need better equipment. Better tactics. Better understanding of enemy capabilities."

  "Agreed," Okoye said.

  "Get your people to medical. Get some rest. We'll debrief tomorrow."

  We dismounted. Led the horses to the stables. Walked to the medical tent.

  A doctor checked us over. Cleaned wounds. Applied proper bandages. Gave us water and food and told us to sleep.

  I found a cot. Lay down. Closed my eyes.

  Thought about my stats. Strength 4, Stamina 4, Agility 6, Mind 10. Level 1.

  One point. One single point for a night of hell.

  But it was progress. Growth. Proof that I could get stronger. Faster. Better.

  Proof that my baseline wasn't permanent.

  I wondered how many points the others had gotten. Wondered if they'd leveled up too. Wondered what they'd chosen to improve.

  I couldn't ask. If I did they would want to know mine and that might expose how weak I was.

  So I'd never know if I was falling behind or keeping pace or somehow pulling ahead.

  Just had to trust that I was making the right choices.

  Just had to keep surviving long enough to see if those choices mattered.

  I fell asleep thinking about red eyes in the darkness.

  About fires that drew enemies like beacons.

  About the gap between effort and reward.

  About baseline and growth and the long, slow grind of getting stronger.

  One point at a time.