Kara crouched, listening intently. The rest of them froze, silent. Tai strained his ears. At first, he heard nothing unusual—just the ever-present drone of insects. But then, faintly, he caught a new sound: a series of low croaks or grunts, and a weird crackling pop, like someone striking a flint or igniting a gas burner for a split second, over and over.

  Kett's eyes narrowed. "There," he whispered, nodding toward a break in the trees off to the side of their rough path.

  Through a veil of hanging moss, Tai spotted movement: rounded shapes in muddy green and brown, streaked with flashes of bright orange and red, hopping slowly through a clearing thick with ferns and clusters of tree fungus. They looked like overgrown toads—each about the size of a football, with warty, wet-looking skin and a thin, twitching antenna sprouting from their foreheads, tipped with orange bulbs that glowed like embers in the gloom.

  They reminded Tai of some swamp-dwelling cousin of an angler fish, all lumpy and strange.

  There were maybe five or six of them, plump and ungainly, emitting low, throaty croaks.

  One of them suddenly puffed up, its throat ballooning as it let out a deep, rumbling croak—and with it came a brief tongue of flame licking out from its mouth. Tai thought he caught a glimpse of a tiny spark flickering at the orange blob on the end of its antenna, like a match ready to ignite.

  Grelm’s eyes lit up at the sight, not unlike the way they did earlier when he eyed those glowing eggs. "Jungle fire-toads!" he whispered excitedly. "Their glands secrete a flammable gas. They—"

  "I know," Kara cut him off softly. She turned to the group and jerked her head toward the clearing. "We could use a small win. They’re easy prey, and alchemists pay for their pyrous glands. We’ll take them. Quick and quiet."

  Everyone nodded. This detour was clearly as much about morale and practice as it was about recouping a bit of lost profit. Kett cracked his knuckles, Grelm practically salivated at the prospect of doing something right this time, and Bruk grinned widely, tapping the handle of a small hand-axe he’d grabbed from the cart, his massive obsidian battleaxe was still strapped down, too destructive for toad duty.

  "Tai," Kara said, her voice low but firm, "stay by the cart. And stay down." She didn’t say out of our way, but Tai could fill in the unspoken part. He was in no shape to contribute to this hunt, and any noise or clumsiness from him could spook the creatures or, worse, get someone hurt.

  He raised his hands in understanding. "You don’t have to tell me twice." Frankly, those toads looked small but hearing the words flammable and chain reaction in the same breath made him more than happy to sit this one out. The last thing he wanted was to get set on fire by a freak amphibian.

  Kara, Kett, and Bruk huddled briefly, laying out a plan in murmurs. Grelm started to join the huddle, but Kara shot him a look. "No fireballs," she whispered pointedly. The mage wilted a little but nodded.

  "Maybe I could try a frostweave spell? A small one, to slow them?" Grelm offered in a hushed voice.

  Kett shrugged. "Can ya do it without freezing us or them solid? We need the glands intact."

  Grelm nodded earnestly. "Yes, yes, very mild. I can manage that much control." He sounded determined; clearly, he was eager to redeem himself after the cave fiasco.

  With a plan decided, the group split into action with practiced ease. Kara and Kett quietly unhitched themselves from the cart and began to circle the clearing from opposite sides, weapons drawn: Kara with her curved sword, Kett with a small throwing axe, his rune-hatched hammer strapped across his back.

  Bruk held position nearer the cart with Tai, acting as backup and guard in case any toads bolted their way. He crouched behind a fallen log at the clearing’s edge, catching Tai’s eye and putting a furry finger to his snout in a shushing gesture (apparently this was a universal cross-species sign), then giving a cheerful thumbs-up.

  Tai returned a tense nod and sank down behind one of the cart’s wheels, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

  Grelm stayed near the cart as well, a few paces ahead of Tai. The mage closed his eyes and began whispering under his breath, the crystal at the tip of his staff starting to emit a pale blue mist.

  He was preparing that frost spell, Tai guessed.

  In the clearing, the fire-toads continued about their business, blissfully unaware of the hunters closing in. One was lapping at the sticky amber ooze of a large tree mushroom, while another wrestled lazily with a fat beetle it had caught, occasionally singeing the insect with a tiny breath of fire.

  Tai peeked around the wheel, heart pounding. It was strange to be watching a fight from the sidelines in real life, without a controller or keyboard. He balled his fists, feeling more nervous watching than he might have been participating—at least then he’d have something to do with the adrenaline surging through him.

  Grelm lowered the head of his staff to the ground, pressing the crystal into the dirt. A soft whisper of mist began to coil out, snaking along the ground toward the toads, slithering low through the ferns and moss.

  The mage was directing thin tendrils of frost toward the cluster of toads, careful not to attract attention with anything flashy.

  The temperature around Tai dropped a touch as the spell passed by, making him shiver despite the humid heat.

  Suddenly, one of the toads in the back let out a confused croak. A tendril of frost had touched its warty skin, and a thin layer of ice crackled over its back. The creature's movements became sluggish; its attempt to croak again came out half-frozen.

  Kara seized the moment. In a blur, she dashed from cover and drove her sword clean through the icy toad, pinning it to the ground. The strike was surgically precise. The toad didn’t even have time to squeal, one second it was alive, the next it was a popsicle on a stick. Kara withdrew her blade as the creature went limp.

  The remaining fire-toads scattered in alarm, croaking frantically. They instinctively hopped away from Kara, right toward the opposite side of the clearing where Kett waited.

  Perfectly planned.

  Kett heaved himself over a fallen log with a grunt, swinging the flat of his throwing axe like a club. He caught one fleeing toad mid-leap, swatting it out of the air with a heavy thud.

  The stunned amphibian hit the ground hard but intact. Kett moved swiftly, flipping his hammer in his hands and bringing the handle down sharply onto the creature’s head—one clean, controlled blow to finish it without mangling the body.

  There was a muted crunch, and the toad went still.

  A third tried to slip away into the underbrush, but Kara was faster, her shortbow came up in a blink, and a single arrow pinned the squirming shape to the roots of a nearby tree.

  Another toad veered away from the dwarf’s ambush, only to be intercepted by Bruk, who couldn’t hold back any longer.

  "RAAAH!" Bruk bellowed, bursting from behind his log like an avalanche with legs.

  Without slowing, he hurled his small hand-axe ahead of him. It thunked into the dirt just inches in front of the fleeing toad, spraying soil and startling it mid-leap. Reflex took over, and the panicked creature veered right—straight into Bruk’s outstretched paw.

  With a sound somewhere between a slap and a thud, Bruk smacked it sideways like a flaming volleyball. The poor toad rocketed across the clearing, hit a tree trunk in a small burst of sparks and smoke, then dropped to the ground with a dazed croak.

  It twitched once, tried to crawl away. Bruk was already on it. He lumbered forward and brought both heavy hands down in a thunderous clap.

  When he lifted them, the toad was... very thoroughly flattened.

  Bruk whooped triumphantly. "HA! Froggy pancake!"

  A strangled noise came from nearby, Grelm, halfway between horror and academic outrage.

  "Bruk! Careful!" he hissed. "We need the pyro-glands intact for extraction! Excessive blunt trauma compromises the volatility profile!"

  Bruk looked vaguely sheepish... for about half a second, before shrugging and grinning even wider.

  Tai watched in half-horror, half-fascination. The entire ambush had been over in just a few breaths.

  That left, by his count, at least one more toad unaccounted for, he thought there were five to start.

  He scanned the clearing frantically. Where’s the last one?

  A flicker of motion drew Tai’s eye downward—just in time to see the final toad had somehow doubled back in the chaos and was now right under the cart, only a foot away from him. It must have hopped toward the only cover it could find... which happened to be Tai’s hiding spot.

  Tai and the toad locked eyes. It was close, so close he could see its throat inflating and deflating rapidly in panic, and the flicker of little flames licking at the edges of its mouth. Instinctively, Tai held his breath. The toad was cornered directly between him and the cart’s back wheel. Neither moved for a split second.

  The toad made the first move. With a terrified croak, it suddenly lunged forward—straight at Tai’s face. "Gah!" Tai yelped, flinging himself backward on his rear. The toad sailed over him, but as it did, he saw its throat swell, glowing from within... oh no.

  The fire-toad belched out a blob of fire mid-leap. The flame wasn’t large—more like a fiery cough—but at this range it could still do damage. Tai felt a wave of heat singe past his cheek as the fireball whooshed over him, missing his head by inches. It struck the cart wheel behind him with a burst of sparks, charring the wood. The acrid smell of burnt timber and something like sulfur filled the air.

  Then, with a wet thwap, the toad crashed into him right in his lap, its rubbery, surprisingly heavy body squirming and kicking. Acting on pure instinct and a hearty dose of panic, Tai grappled with it. "Nope! Nope! Off—get off!" he shouted, as he wrestled with the slippery creature. Its skin was slimy and disturbingly hot to the touch, like a sponge soaked in warm oil, and it let out an indignant, warbling screech. In its thrashing, a hind leg scratched at Tai’s forearm, leaving a streak of something that hissed against his skin—apparently the little monsters were mildly acidic too. Lovely.

  Tai scrambled backward toward the cart, hand slapping blindly inside—and hit something cold and solid. Bruk’s battle axe. Without thinking, driven by pure panic and adrenaline, Tai grabbed the thick wooden shaft and heaved. The heavy obsidian head dragged along the ground as he staggered upright, clutching the weapon like a lifeline.

  He staggered upright, hefting the monstrous weapon. How the hell does Bruk carry this thing? Tai thought wildly. He swings it around like it were a baseball bat!

  The fire-toad, still dazed, caught sight of him—and the axe—and its eyes widened in pure amphibian terror.

  It let out a panicked croak and tried to scramble away, legs flailing uselessly, slipping and skidding in place like something out of a cartoon.

  With a desperate yell, Tai swung the massive axe in a broad, clumsy arc.

  SPLAT.

  By sheer dumb luck, the full weight and power of the obsidian head smashed down on the toad, flattening it like an oversized bug.

  The creature gave one last startled croak as it was pancaked between the axe and the muddy earth. A brief gout of flame puffed weakly from its mouth before sputtering out.

  Tai lift the axe again—more like pried it loose from the ground—he found the toad was, to put it delicately, extremely dead.

  Panting, heart in his throat, Tai stared at the smeared mess on the ground. A mix of relief and revulsion flooded through him.

  He had actually just killed...something.

  Not just squashed a mosquito, not stomped an ant trail in boredom as a kid—no, this was different.

  This had been a living, breathing creature, about the size of a cat, or maybe even a medium-sized dog, hot and squirming and panicked in his hands.

  It had been alive. And he had ended it with a panicked swing of a weapon bigger than him.

  Tai wiped a shaky hand against his thigh, barely noticing the smudge of muck it left behind. His stomach twisted in ways he didn’t entirely understand. Relief that he wasn’t dead, yes, but also a raw, uncomfortable thrum of guilt buzzing just under his skin.

  It was going to burn my face off, he reminded himself firmly. Still...

  He looked up—and froze again.

  The rest of the group was standing around the cart now, watching him. Not exactly judging, but definitely surprised. Maybe even a little impressed.

  "I, uh... got it," Tai managed, a bit shakily. He gingerly flicked a glob of toad guts off the massive axe.

  "You... definitely did," Grelm said, tone equal parts astonished and impressed. "Admirable enthusiasm! Though..."—he crouched slightly, peering critically at the flattened toad—"I'm afraid this specimen will be... somewhat beyond recovery."

  Tai let out a breathless laugh and wobbled to his feet, the adrenaline still coursing through him. "I wouldn't call it skill. More like blind luck and terror."

  Bruk bounded over, a huge grin splitting his furry face. He clapped Tai on the back so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Small Tai warrior! Killed fire-frog! Good squish!"

  Tai winced, feeling the slap reverberate through his ribs, but he couldn’t help smiling at Bruk’s exuberance.

  Kett approached more calmly, wiping his hands on a rag. He crouched and pried Bruk’s axe free from the mud with a grunt, then glanced up at Tai, studying him for a beat longer than necessary.

  "You did well, lad," Kett said in a low voice—steady, reassuring—as he hefted the axe back onto his shoulder. "First real kill’s not nothing. Don't let it weigh on you."

  Tai nodded, throat dry.

  Nearby, Kara wiped her sword clean on a broad leaf. Under her breath, barely audible, she muttered, "Another payload lost," more to herself than anyone else.

  Tai caught it anyway. A small knot of guilt tightened in his chest.

  She didn’t blame him outright—but somehow, that made it sting even worse.

  "Any injuries?" she asked briskly, her tone switching back to professional as her gaze swept over the group.

  "Just smushed pride on the frogs' part," Grelm quipped, earning a low groan from Kett.

  Tai looked down at himself: a few new scrapes, some toad slime clinging to his shirt, a faint red welt where the acidic secretion had grazed his forearm.

  "I'm fine," he said, brushing off his sleeve. The burn stung, but nothing serious—a small price for staying alive.

  With the immediate chaos behind them, the others moved on quickly, slipping into the rhythm of practiced routine. No one said much to Tai—they didn’t ignore him exactly, but they left him to his own thoughts as they got to work.

  Bruk and Kara began dragging the intact toad bodies toward the cart, stacking them beside a large wooden pail lined with waxed cloth. Bruk handled the heavier ones with gleeful efficiency, humming something off-key under his breath, while Kara checked each body with a clinical eye, nudging aside with the toe of her boot the worst-damaged speciment that Tai have turned into mush.

  Grelm crouched beside one of the toads, his eyes already gleaming behind his fogged-up lenses. He pulled out a small roll of precision tools: silver tweezers, a scalpel, and a set of delicate hooked picks. His target was the antenna-like protrusion on the toad’s forehead—the fleshy, glowing blob at the tip. He leaned in with reverent care.

  “Come on... show me something special,” he muttered, slicing a thin line With careful, almost reverent motions, around the base of the bulb and peeling it back with slow, exacting motions. Inside, nestled in the soft tissue, was a small crystal-like shard, the size of a fingernail, glowing a steady ember-orange.

  “Aha!” he beamed. “Spark Shard.”

  He gingerly lifted it with his tweezers, gave it a quick cleaning with a cloth, then held it up to catch the dim evening light, looking at it with admiration. The shard shimmered with a soft ember-orange glow. “Fire-toads often grow them in the lure,” he added casually, clearly speaking to no one in particular. “Overuse of aether channels causes an hardening of elemental flow. Rare, and very valuable” then he wrapped it in clean silk cloth and placed it carefully into a carved wooden box lined with compartments.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  While Grelm fussed with precision and wrapping, Kett was elbow-deep in more traditional and gruesome work. He knelt beside another specimen and made a clean incision down its belly, then cracked the chest cavity with a few careful motions of his thick-bladed knife.

  From inside, he located the reddish gland nestled near the lungs and pried it free with firm fingers. The gland pulsed faintly, its surface oily and iridescent like hot tar.

  “One pyrous gland,” he said simply, placing it into a reinforced glass jar. The jar hissed faintly as it sealed, and Kett moved on to the next with quiet efficiency.

  Tai shifted where he crouched, trying not to gag at the sticky, steaming mess of toad parts and glistening organs spread around the cart.

  Nope. Still can't get over it. Looting is absolutely disgusting!

  He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing mud.

  Great. Now I’ll even flinch when I loot diamonds and magic crystals in my video games back home...

  Thanks a lot, Magic Jungle World, or whatever this place is called

  Within a few minutes, the team had collected a modest bounty: Grelm secured four pyrous glands in vials - one too damaged to be salvageable, and two spark shards in his ornate wooden box aperently these shards are rare indeed. The corpses, now missing certain pieces, were hefted onto the cart. Bruk didn’t bother being delicate—he simply grabbed them by their legs and tossed them in with the rest of the monster loot, humming cheerfully.

  The stench in the cart definitely leveled up with the addition of singed amphibian carcasses. Bruk waved a hand in front of his nose. "Blegh. Smelly frogs join smelly bug. Cart smell very bad now."

  "Better stinky and richer than fresh and poor," Kett quipped as he finished tying down the tarpaulin over the new acquisitions.

  Kara allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile. It was clear the successful mini-hunt had lifted everyone’s spirits. They’d salvaged something from the day, at least.

  “We have to get moving,” she said firmly, but with a lighter tone than before. “We made a lot of mess and noise here. It’s getting dark, and soon the jungle will switch into night shift. We don’t want to be caught unprepared on the road.”

  No one argued. They set off once more.

  Tai resumed his seat on the cart, legs dangling off the back. It was easier now with less weight, or at least, one less Bruk-worth of weight. He felt bone-tired but... accomplished.

  Though somewhere deep inside, he still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had after seeing the toad he’d smushed—its body scattered in chunks around him. And the loot. Gods, that had been too much.

  The group moved with renewed purpose, hoping to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.

  Within another hour, darkness began to creep in. A hazy twilight settled beneath the thick canopy, and luminous eyes occasionally peered at them from the underbrush before scurrying away.

  Eventually, Kara called a halt in a relatively open area beneath a cluster of massive trees.

  They made camp on a dry, elevated patch of ground between two of the tree's colossal roots. The spot was naturally sheltered, with the roots arching overhead like wooden ramparts. Everyone moved with the practiced efficiency of routine: Kara did a quick perimeter sweep to ensure no immediate dangers; Kett unhitched himself from the cart with a relieved groan and began gathering wood for a fire; Grelm, using light from his staff’s crystal, helped pick out bits of kindling and not-so-rotten leaves; Bruk used his axe to chop a few thick branches into logs, humming his little nonsense song about "jungle night" and "hungry belly" as he did so.

  Tai offered to help, but Kett waved him off. "Rest, lad. You earned it. We won't say no if you boil some water or pass around rations, but leave the heavy lifting to those still with energy."

  Truthfully, Tai was dead on his feet. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to him—the adrenaline of combat and the endless marching fading, leaving behind sheer fatigue. He busied himself with minor tasks: spreading out a blanket or two, fetching the waterskin when Bruk wanted a swig, that sort of thing.

  They settled in a loose circle around the flames. Kara set up a simple iron spit while Bruk hauled one of the smaller fire-toads from the cart with both hands, muttering, “Frog feast. Bruk hungry.”

  Tai stared, frozen. “Are we…” he started to ask, but his voice trailed off in shock and quiet horror.

  Bruk and Kett worked efficiently, skinning and butchering the toad with practiced precision. The legs were thick, muscular, and far meatier than Tai would’ve expected from an amphibian. Slices were skewered and set over the flames. Another toad was broken down, rubbed with spices and some kind of thick tree syrup, then wrapped and placed in a vented iron box suspended over low coals to smoke overnight.

  “Road meat,” Bruk explained with a satisfied nod “Keeps good if wrapped. No swamp stink.”

  Tai still stared, unable to form words. He was tired, bitten, filthy, and sore. He was also starving, so much so it made him feel lightheaded. And now this?

  From the jungle edge, Grelm returned with an armful of oddly shaped leaves, mossy bulbs, and something that looked suspiciously like blue mint. He knelt beside Bruk and began sorting, but not before the badger-man gave each item a cautious sniff.

  “This? Good.” Sniff. “This? No. Bad stink. Last time, make Bruk itchy.”

  Eventually, dinner began to take shape. A stew simmered in a battered iron pot over the fire: chunks of fire-toad meat mixed with wild tubers, dried mushrooms, and a dark, fragrant broth laced with something sweet and faintly spicy.

  Tai sat cross-legged on the ground, a carved wooden bowl in his lap, staring into it like it had personally offended him.

  “Can we even eat this?” he muttered, squinting at a slab of pale meat floating near the surface. It looked uncomfortably like chicken that had been skinned and left in a bathtub. It’s a monster. A magical, fire-spitting monster.

  He kept staring, queasy.

  But now that the smell reached his nose more clearly, he had to admit—grudgingly—it smelled kind of good. Earthy. Smoky. A little sweet.

  Kind of like Chinese roasted duck, he thought.

  He hesitated, spoon stirring lazily in the bowl.

  Who even eats toads? Frogs? Wasn’t that a French thing? Or Chinese? I think I saw it on a menu once… way in the back. Next to the stuff nobody actually orders.

  Around him, the others ate without hesitation. Kara chewed with quiet focus, Grelm made delighted little noises between bites, and Bruk was already on his second bowl, humming contentedly.

  Still Tai hesitated.

  “Bruk, you outdid yourself this time,” Grelm said, sucking on a bone with genuine delight.

  “Food important,” Bruk said between mouthfuls. “Good food makes good body.” He reached for a third helping.

  Kett, seated nearby, noticed Tai’s expression and the untouched bowl in his lap. He gave him a quiet nod.

  “You need to eat,” he said simply. “Hard day.”

  That was all.

  Tai took a breath, muttered “Okay, screw it,” under his breath, and took a bite.

  It was... tender. Somewhere between chicken and duck in texture. The flavor was rich, surprisingly deep for something cooked over a campfire, with a soft sweetness beneath the spice. He blinked.

  “That’s actually... not bad,” he murmured after swallowing. “Tastes a little like chicken. Or duck, maybe.”

  “Chik-what?” Grelm asked clearly confused.

  “Little spicy,” Tai added quickly, trying to steer the conversation away.

  Bruk grinned, licking his fingers. “Special mix. Some honey-root. Some bark. A flower, maybe poison flower.”

  Tai paused. “What kind of flower?”

  Bruk shrugged. “Tasty one.”

  That wasn’t reassuring. But Tai kept eating.

  He finished one bowl. Then another. Hunger had the final say, making him forget—if only for a while—that he was eating an actual monster. Each bite reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had a proper meal. Even the jungle didn’t seem quite so threatening with something warm in his belly.

  Tai leaned back, satisfied, and looked beyond the fire into the dark jungle.

  Now that night had fully fallen, the jungle transformed into an almost otherworldly landscape. Soft bioluminescent glows shimmered to life all around: clusters of tiny star-like insects drifted lazily among the leaves, and some of the plants themselves pulsed with gentle light. Pale blue fungi clung to tree trunks, casting a ghostly glow, and trails of floating embers—perhaps spores or fairy-like insects—drifted on the breeze like bits of falling starlight.

  It was beautiful in a quiet, haunting way. Tai found himself staring into the trees, lost in the strange wonder of it, until Bruk’s voice brought him back.

  The big guy had just finished his fourth bowl—or was it the fifth?—and evidently decided it was time for what Tai quickly guessed was a nightly tradition. Bruk set his empty bowl on the ground, cleared his throat dramatically, and looked up at the stars.

  Kett chuckled and leaned toward Tai. “Here we go. Storytime with Bruk.”

  Kara, who’d been poking at the fire, paused with a faint sigh of expectation, and Grelm adjusted his glasses with a small, knowing smile. This was clearly a routine.

  Bruk spread his arms wide. The light from the fire flickered across his fur, casting long shadows and giving him the look of some ancient shaman preparing a ritual. Then, in a deep, rumbling voice, he began to recite:

  “Sun fall down, jungle night start,

  Friends all here by fire heart.

  Big bug fight, danger and fear,

  But all safe now, all friends here.

  Eggs go boom, gold turn to smoke,

  Frog go squish with fire and croak.

  Small human join, brave and true,

  Hit fire-frog like warrior do.

  Red-hair leader, strong and smart,

  Guide us safe on jungle cart.

  Stone-beard dwarf, steady and bold,

  Keep us safe from beast untold.

  He bonk one frog, now frog is dead.

  He hit with back, not smash too bad.

  Save juicy parts—Bruk very glad.

  Magic man clever, make frost play,

  Next time maybe not burn pay."

  Here, Grelm let out a sputter of protest, cheeks going red, while the others snickered. Bruk carried on, oblivious or simply mischievous:

  "Bruk strong, Bruk fight, big and loud,

  Smash bad things to make friends proud.

  Now we rest, close tired eye,

  All friends safe ’neath jungle sky”

  He ended with an enthusiastic flourish and bowed deeply. Tai and Grelm clapped, Tai quite genuinely, Grelm more with amusement. Kett raised his tin mug in salute, and even Kara gave a quiet nod of approval.

  "Not bad, Bruk," Kara said, a hint of fondness in her tone. "You’re getting better at the rhymes."

  Bruk beamed and settled back down, clearly pleased with himself. "Bruk practice," he said seriously. "Words important. Make happy."

  "They do at that," Kett agreed, leaning back against a large root with a content sigh. He shot a grin at Tai. "Every night our Bruk comes up with some little poem about the day. Helps the food go down, I reckon."

  Tai smiled, feeling warm, not just from the stew and fire, but from the sense of camaraderie. It was still surreal; here he was, on what amounted to an alien world, having just fought bizarre creatures, and now listening to a giant badger-man recite a sing-song poem about their day. Surreal, but... nice.

  The party busied themselves with their own wind-down routines. Kara took a whetstone to her sword, the shhhk, shhhk of metal on stone a rhythmic counterpoint to the jungle sounds. Kett puffed on a short-stemmed pipe he'd produced from a pocket, blowing smoke rings that drifted up to join the fireflies. Grelm scribbled in a little leather-bound journal, likely noting the day's encounters and perhaps making a to-do: "No fire in enclosed spaces".

  Bruk was already dozing, propped against the cart wheel; he’d earned his rest, no doubt.

  Tai sat quietly, wrapped in the spare blanket Kett had lent him, and simply absorbed the moment. For the first time since waking up in this world, he didn't feel on the verge of panic. Exhausted, yes. Sore, definitely. But also oddly at peace, under the circumstances.

  He realized he hadn't had a single moment to truly process everything. Now, in the relative safety of the fire’s glow, his mind started catching up: He had somehow been transported from his apartment into a deadly cave. He had nearly died, been rescued by strangers who were now basically the only people he knew in this world, fought monsters, and apparently he agreed to some kind of contract or a strange menu system that gave him no edge in this strange world. Oh, and he’d had a dream of his mother that felt so real it hurt.

  A wave of homesickness and grief washed over him, and Tai found himself staring into the flames to hide the moistness in his eyes. Would he ever see home again? His friends, few that they were, his comfy couch, pepperoni pizza, video games? His mom’s grave?

  He felt a presence settle next to him on the makeshift log bench. Glancing over, he saw Kett easing down, pipe in one hand, the other hand nursing a wooden tankard of something, probably ale or some dwarf brew from his rations.

  "Heavy thoughts?" Kett asked quietly.

  Tai managed a weak smile. "That obvious?"

  The dwarf shrugged. "Your face was about as dour as mine gets, and that’s sayin’ something." He offered the tankard. "Care for a sip? Might take the edge off."

  Tai hesitated, then took it and had a small swallow. A smoky, strong liquor burned its way down his throat, but the warmth that blossomed in his chest was welcome. He coughed softly. "Smooth," he croaked with a chuckle, handing it back.

  Kett grinned. "Dwarven whiskey. Puts hair on yer toes."

  They sat in silence for a minute, watching Kara stand and stretch. The red-haired warrior sheathed her now-sharpened sword and began a slow walk around the perimeter of their clearing, on first watch. Grelm rolled himself up in his cloak on the other side of the fire, already snoring softly with his book clutched to his chest. Bruk was fully out as well, mumbling something about "more honey" in his sleep.

  "You holding up alright?" Kett asked, keeping his voice low.

  Tai thought for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know." He poked a stick into the dirt at his feet. "Everything's happened so fast. Yesterday I was..." He trailed off, realizing he didn't want to delve into a long backstory of Earth right now. "I was somewhere very different, living a very different life. And now I'm here, with you guys, and giant bugs and magic crystals are real, and I nearly got flame-broiled by a toad." He shook his head in disbelief. "It’s... a lot."

  Kett puffed on his pipe, eyes reflective. "Aye. I can’t imagine waking up in some other realm unexpected. We at least knew what we were signing up for when we left town on this job." He tapped out his pipe gently on the log. "But for what it's worth, you handled yourself well today, all things considered."

  Tai gave a self-deprecating snort. "If by handled myself, you mean nearly fainted, got carted around, and screamed at a frog..."

  "You also kept your head in that cave long enough for us to find you alive," Kett interjected. "You didn’t freeze when things got ugly. And you even saved our cart from a torching by that last toad. Many folks from around here would have fared worse, trust me." He offered a reassuring grin. "Plenty of green adventurers piss themselves at their first monster. You at least had the decency to only scream a little."

  That coaxed a laugh out of Tai. “I’ll take that as high praise.”

  “It is,” Kett said firmly. Then his tone grew more somber. “Listen, lad. I don’t know where you came from—your clothes, your speech, they don’t exactly blend in—but we don’t need to talk about that now.

  I know this jungle might feel like a death trap. Well... most of it is.

  But before you know it, we’ll be out of here. And this world? It’s full of wonders too.

  Kind of like that dream you had this morning.”

  Tai turned to him, surprised. “You... know about that?”

  Kett chuckled. “You were muttering in your sleep on the cart. Called out for your mum once, then let out a yell like you were facing the devil himself. Figured you were having one hell of a nightmare.”

  Tai felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Kett rested his forearms on his knees. “I won’t pry. We’ve all got memories that sneak up on us when we close our eyes.”

  For a moment, the dwarf’s gaze flickered with something - pain, regret? but it passed like a cloud over the sun.

  “But I will say this: dwelling on what you lost or left behind can paralyze you. And out here, we can't afford that. Focus on what’s in front of you - what you can do right now.

  We’ll sort out the bigger questions once we’re somewhere safe, with information, supplies... and beds.”

  "Somewhere safe," Tai echoed, rolling the words on his tongue like they were foreign. It sounded lovely. "Is there such a place around here?"

  Kett nodded. "There's a town—well, more of a fortified caravanserai—called Timberstep about two days from here. That's where we were heading after the centipede job. We’ll be there by the day after tomorrow, if all goes well. Walls, beds, hot meals. Maybe even a bath for Bruk." He smirked.

  From across the clearing, a sleepy grumble of "Bruk no need bath..." could be heard, and Kett snickered.

  "A bath sounds like heaven," Tai sighed, imagining scrubbing off the layers of gore and grime.

  "As for safe," Kett continued, "Timberstep’s not perfect, but it’s civilization. And with what we salvaged today, we can at least barter for supplies—maybe even send word to some scholars or road rangers about your... unique situation."

  Tai’s stomach fluttered. “Do you think someone there might know how to send me back home?”

  He tried to keep his voice steady, but the question landed heavy. He noticed Kara, leaning casually against a tree, glance in their direction, pretending not to listen, but definitely catching every word.

  Kett let out a slow breath and scratched his beard. “Well... if life’s taught me anything, it’s that if you can get the whisky out of the flask, there’s probably a way to pour it back in. Might take some doing. Might be messier the second time—but not impossible.”

  He paused, then added, “Look, I don’t know how you got here. Maybe it was a portal gone sideways, or a rogue mage with more ambition than sense. But if there’s a way in, there’s likely a way out. Your story’s not exactly common, but I’ve heard stranger. World’s weird like that.”

  Tai nodded slowly. That was as close to hope as he was going to get tonight. At least he wasn’t the only one trying to make sense of things.

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Tai watched embers drift skyward and disappear into the vast, unfamiliar sky. Beyond the trees, constellations he didn’t recognize glittered above—a sprawl of stars that somehow looked too sharp, too clear. One star—or maybe a planet—shone bright blue, pulsing gently like a heartbeat in the dark.

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he found himself saying quietly.

  Kett followed his gaze. "Aye. Seen it a thousand nights, but it never gets old." He pointed with his pipe stem. "That bright blue one there, we call it the Wanderer. Never stays in the same spot season to season."

  Tai remembered countless nights back home barely noticing the stars beyond the city lights. He suddenly felt very small and very far from everything he knew. But at least under this alien sky, he wasn’t alone.

  Kett stood and stretched, his back popping. "Right, I'm for some shut-eye. Kara’ll wake me for second watch in a few hours." He looked down at Tai. "You try to sleep too. Tomorrow’ll be another adventure, I'm sure."

  "Thanks, Kett. For... everything," Tai said sincerely. That was more kindness, and more clarity, than he’d expected from a dwarf with a battle hammer and zero neck.

  The dwarf gave a dismissive wave and a kind smile. "All part of the job. And... for what it's worth, I'm glad we found you. Could use some fresh perspective around here." He winked and then went to roll himself in a blanket near the fire, opposite Grelm.

  Tai took a deep breath and lay back on his blanket. The ground was hard and the jungle was loud with nightlife, distant hoots, buzzing, and a chorus of croaks far off, thankfully, small sounding ones. Yet, fatigue was overpowering his senses. His body craved rest.

  Kara continued her quiet patrol at the edge of the firelight, a vigilant silhouette against the darkness. Knowing she was keeping watch made Tai feel safer. Safe enough, finally, to let the weight of the day pull his eyelids down.

  As he drifted off, Tai allowed himself to think of his mother again. Not the painful goodbye at the hospital, but a happier time: the two of them in the kitchen on a real Sunday morning years ago, laughing as she flipped a pancake too high and it hit the ceiling. He held that memory close, like a talisman.

  "Goodnight, Mom," he whispered, the words swallowed by the rustle of leaves and the crackle of the fire.

  His last groggy thought as sleep claimed him was strange, yet comforting: In the span of a single day, he had gone from completely alone in a nightmare to being part of a group—maybe not by their full choice, but still, they accepted him in their own rough way. Whatever tomorrow held, at least he wouldn’t face it alone.

  And with that thought, under a foreign sky filled with unfamiliar stars, Tai finally slipped into a deep sleep. The fire burned low, and the jungle night hummed a lullaby around him as his first day in this strange world came to a close.