Wild Gourmet: Chapter 11

Neil saw them coming and stepped away from the wall, spear in hand. Brand waved him off before the boy could ask questions. There wasn’t time to explain, and he didn’t want to start a panic over what might still turn out to be nothing. Guards were powerful near the things they were guarding, but he wouldn’t be much help out in the wilderness even if Brand brought him along.

Once through the gate, Darvon stopped and pointed off into the distance. Brand followed his arm and squinted. The land beyond Bell was almost aggressively flat, which made for long viewing distances. Miles out, just visible against the horizon, he could make out a smudge of green covering the top of a low hill. It might have been trees.

“There.” Darvon said. “That’s the stand she was working towards.”

Brand scanned the landscape. He could see at least four or five similar patches of green from where he stood, scattered across the flat terrain in various directions. Some were closer. A few looked bigger. He couldn’t see what was special about the one.

“You’re sure that’s where she was going? I can see a lot of patches just like that.”

“I’m sure. She talked about it all morning. Showed me twice on the map, too, and then walked me to the gate and pointed it out, just like I’m doing now.” Darvon dropped his arm. “The girl was fixated. She’d been working the closer resources first, the stuff near the road and just outside the walls. But that spot out there, she’d been watching it for days. She said the trees looked taller there.”

Brand nodded. It made sense, in a way. She had picked a goal in the distance, and now she could move towards it.

“All right. I’m going to start moving.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come with you. I’m strong, but I don’t have a single combat ability. Not even Rock Throw.” Rock throw was a joke of an ability, something worker classes got as a self-defense afterthought from the system. “I’d just slow you down.”

“It’s fine.” Brand checked the daggers on his belt one more time, then the shitoku in its sheath. Everything was where it should be. “You’d be in danger out there without a way to fight, and then I’d have two people to worry about instead of one.”

“Right.” Darvon stepped back from the gate. His hands were still again, but only because he had them balled into fists at his sides. “Just do your best, Brand.”

“I will.”

Brand turned and started running. The flat ground ate up under his feet faster than it would have even two days ago. Behind him, he could feel Darvon watching from the gate, hoping the same thing Brand was hoping as the distance between them grew. That his best would be enough. He knew like Brand did that sometimes it wasn’t.

It was the fastest he had ever moved, and it wasn’t close. His new stats put him into something like a sustained sprint immediately, working overtime to move him faster and to keep him from tripping at speeds that would have sent him sprawling before his class. He knew it wasn’t much compared to classes that were really optimized for travel, but it still felt like a lightning pace.

He almost immediately abandoned the road. The packed dirt was easier footing, but it curved away from the target in a way he didn’t have time for. Instead he cut across the open ground, counting on his dexterity to keep him upright as the terrain grew rough. He wove around larger obstacles and strode clean over the smaller ones, his footing sure.

The wind blew hard in his ears as he went, loud enough to drown out everything else if there had been anything else to listen to. The terrain blurred as the wind blew across his eyes, washing out detail in favor of a blur of green.

The stand was farther than he thought. Much farther. As the minutes stretched on he began to realize just how far Shemi had gone. It would have taken her all morning just to reach the place, even at a good walking pace. That was farther than made sense for a supply run, especially one she had planned to make round trips on.

She probably didn’t know just how far it was. She had only seen it from a distance before.

That was good news, though, if he was thinking about it right. If she had spent most of the day just getting there, that was less time for her to have gotten into trouble once she arrived. He held onto that thought and let himself get a little more hopeful that everything would be fine.

In his belt, the daggers were behaving themselves. He had angled them slightly backwards when he tucked them in, point down and canted away from his leg so the hilts wouldn’t dig into his side and the blades wouldn’t cut into his legs. It was an incomplete solution. He was going to need proper sheaths eventually if he kept carrying them this way, though he doubted he’d maintain a full complement of daggers on his person at all times.

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He was overarmed, but the extra weaponry was still reassuring. He wouldn’t run out of arms out here, even if his primary weapon broke.

He kept running, pushing the pace as hard as he could without emptying his lungs completely. It was tempting to go all out, to burn everything he had in his legs and close the distance as fast as possible. He didn’t. It wouldn’t do to show up to what might be an emergency already winded and shaking. That was one of the few useful lessons he had gained from the army. You moved fast if you could, but not so fast that you removed your ability to fight when you got where you were going.

The stand of trees grew larger ahead of him. He could make out trunks now, and the uneven canopy of what looked like a mix of hardwoods crowding the top and side of the hill.