We gather a bunch of moss and twigs from the vines that wind up and down parts of the sides of the passage. More accurately, Sadie gathers a bunch of twigs, I struggle to scrape some moss from the wall. My leg is no longer actively bleeding but standing for more than four seconds is still proving tricky. It’s getting better, but I won’t be carrying that message to Marathon anytime soon. Once I can do better than hobble, we should clear out. She snaps her finger over the pile of vegetation, igniting it. Then she somehow puffs the fire larger, by gesturing and stretching it. The warmth feels incredible, and the pain in my leg eases quickly.

  “Know how to dress a boar?” she asks.

  “In like… a tux?”

  She gives me one of the heaviest sighs I’ve ever heard. “Skin it. It means skin and butcher.”

  Dad tried to get me to be a hunter. With a gun, not a spear or something cool, like bow hunting. I am not good with a gun, unless it’s an FPS and you just press X. It’s a lot more involved than point and shoot. He tried to teach me to butcher a deer when I was in high school, so I could be tangentially involved in his pastime. That didn’t go great, either.

  “Not really,” I finally reply.

  “Got a knife?” Sadie asks.

  “Only a metal tipped spear,” I say, patting the haft of my trusty weapon. “Let me watch what you’re doing—maybe I can learn something.”

  She squats at the boar and slashes a clean line, throat to groin.

  I run my hand over my leg. There’s a huge indented slot where the gash was, no longer bleeding, more like a gouge made by running your finger deep through clay, only it’s made of leg. I hobble next to her, able to stay on my knees and watch the surgery. She doesn’t look at me. She describes a cut, a pull.

  “You upset with me for some reason?” I ask.

  "How are you feeling about killing another satyr?" I ask.

  "Wouldn’t be the first time," Sadie replied quietly, still not meeting my eyes.

  She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so I do what I always do when I’m uncomfortable.

  “So. This Greek guy goes to a tailor,” I start, still watching the lesson. “Hands him his pants. They’re torn like mine. The tailor takes them and goes ‘Euripides?’ The guy nods and says ‘Eumenides?’”

  She exhales sharply and starts yanking strips of meat off the boar carcass, pulls the guts out of Baconator, and throws them to the far wall with a wet splortch. She continues until there’s a set of pork steaks set out on a mat she made of Baconator’s skin.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “See, it’s funny because it sounds like ‘did you rip these’ and ‘do you mend these’,” I explain.

  “You know how to set up a spit?” she asks, ignoring me, then looks at me with those strange horizontal pupil eyes. “You make a joke about spitting and you get smacked with a pork chop.”

  “Sorry. Yeah.” I sigh, use my newly reforming thigh and hobble about to find a few sticks that cling to the walls to build a feeble but functional spit. I skewer the boar chops, not unlike I did the satyr, and set the pieces up over the crude fire.

  I plonk down, feeling the now shallow indent in my leg. The rate of healing here is phenomenal. I wonder if being able to summon a boar creates a kind of infinite food source. As I’m thinking it, the choice reappears. That’s convenient and intuitive.

  “Skills time,” I say, rubbing my hands together.

  Summon Boar. Forward Charge.

  I suck at stealth. I need to level that up. Baconator saw me without hesitation. Zipping in with charge would be a great move. But if I could make my own war boar…

  “Yes, Dom, I know,” she says quietly.

  Ah, I think with a frown. She’s scared because I might summon a boar instead of her. I may not be an expert in the female mind or satyrs, but I do know it’s going to be a long quiet dinner.

  “Sadie?” I ask, rotating the boar steaks on the spit. “I don’t want to replace you. I would summon the boar now, but do you know if I can have more than one summon up at a time?”

  She smiles a little. “It’s possible, but the vitality drain on you would be substantial. Each summon takes a part of your life force. Two summons would be twice as much a burden.”

  “But, surely, if we go into a fight and there are three of us, the boar taking the brunt of the damage, then we have a much greater chance of survival. Right?”

  She tilts her head. “So if you don’t get hit, the boar takes it, it doesn’t matter if you’re much weaker.”

  I spin the boar spit. “And if the boar takes the damage instead of you, you get to do more of your fancy flaming fists of furry—er, fury.”

  She gives a short snort, almost a laugh. “I suppose. You know what the boar did was a forward charge. You didn’t have a chance to avoid that.”

  I nod. “And I would probably leave cool purple streaks behind me when I run.”

  She stares at the ceiling. “You would leave cool purple streaks when you run.”

  “Well, at least the boar will be rad as hell.”

  She ignites her fist, still not looking at me, but gives a wry smile.

  “Think that’s ready?” I ask, poking the boar steaks, which smells way better than a fat war boar should.

  I poke the cooked chunk with my spear. It drips clean and clear, not bloody. I touch it and lick the juices from my finger. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten. Longer since I’ve slept, but this doesn’t feel safe for napping. I cut a few strips for myself and for Sadie.

  She accepts the strip and takes a bite.

  “We’re bound to get into some more fights soon,” I say, chewing the steaming boar chunk. “I have some ideas on switching up what we do. The impale move is super powerful. We have to set that up more. We need to really learn what each monster does and figure how to turn a skill into an advantage for us. Looks like live combat may be the only way to improve.”

  “Not bad for the new guy,” she says.

  “I knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop,” I reply. “I may end up a capable fighter yet.”

  “I meant the boar steak,” she says. “Could use a bit of seasoning… but not bad for the new guy.”

  I grin. “The boar will keep us both safe,” I say. The choices appear in my vision.

  Ding.

  You have gained the Summon Boar (Emerging, Level 1) skill.

  You have gained the Cooking (Emerging, Level 1) skill.