Chapter 01

A crisp wind tousled the ends of my hair. It wasn’t the wind itself that had woken me so early. It was the character of the wind. A wind that marked the very last day of autumn. It was peculiar that a simple wind would tell of the coming of winter. Yet I had ten years of experience in these woods. Not a year went by where the wind was wrong. I learned to trust these signs.

Crisp. Chilly. Thick. I imagine that shaved silver would smell like this.

The wind was also a form of prophecy. Years ago, I’d thought myself a bit loony after coming to befriend the first of wintry weather this way. Year after year, my gut had been right. The wind always foretold the brutality of winter. This coming winter would bring a tremendous amount of snowfall. It would be colder than most. It would end in a great upheaval of fog and mist and hunkering clouds.

Life would enter hibernation soon. I felt a bit weary myself, having been rudely pulled from my dreams. I was nagged from my sleep by the banging of my cabin door. It had come off the top hinge months ago and hung dejected against the frame. A large rock kept the skewed door closed. Overnight, the wind had managed to push the door, which pushed the rock a bit out of the way. The gap was wide enough that the door slapped between the stone and doorframe whenever a gust of wind rolled through.

I sat up and slipped my feet out from under my wool blankets, then rubbed my face to wake my brain. The birds were up as well, chirping brightly. I guess it was about time I got up as well. There was a lot to do before winter built its nest into my woods.

Fixing the door is priority number one. Then I should chop some wood, take an inventory of foodstuffs, and work on evaporating salt. But first, let’s feed our friends.

I say “our,” because I don’t feel alone living so far from other humans. These northern woods have become great friends to me. We’ve known each other for…

That’s right; ten years to the day.

I whistled a short spring tune while I crossed the cabin to check on the stove by my cabin door. Through the iron grate I saw a universe of smoldering embers so I added a few more logs to get a good breakfast fire going. If the door wasn’t busted, the fire would have been twice its strength.

Upon the stove was an iron pot where I’d let salt water evaporate overnight. I stirred the leftover salt, breaking the crystals it had formed.

Another spoonful to add to the jar. Should be almost full now.

I retrieved a large clay jar from a bottom shelf across the room and set it upon the table. As suspected, it was almost filled to the brim with salt. I added what little I’d gained from last night's evaporation, and descended to my cellar. I was careful to climb down the ladder, not wanting to drop this year's worth of work.

The ladder had only a few rungs, and the cellar tunneled at a gentle slope into the earth. It was dark and smelled of rich earth and exposed roots. Barrels lined either side and I blindly felt for the shelves at the end. My hand searched for an empty space between other clay jars and I set the salt jar between them.

Better grab another empty jar for more salt. Can never have too much.

I used salt mostly for preservation. I had half a barrel’s worth of salted fish and intended to fill the whole thing up before the first snowfall.

Before I go down to the sea for more saltwater, I’ll have myself a bit of breakfast, then feed the birds.

I wiped out the iron pot, piled in a handful of potatoes I’d grown this fall, and placed the pot right above the hottest spot.

While I waited for the better part of an hour for the taters to bake, I crushed up some wild walnuts and sunflower seeds. I spread the rich meal out onto a wooden plate, then I shouldered the cabin door open.

“Morning friends,” I said, and set the plate upon the roof of the cabin. Since the roof wasn’t so angled, it sat snuggly upon the moss encrusted wooden shingles. Only when I came back inside, after propping the door wide open, did the bird’s come and feast.

I heard them land on the roof, hop about, peck at the plate, ruffle feathers, and chirp in discord. I did this every morning. Every morning for nearly ten years.

I should celebrate today. Perhaps go for a nice long hike? Screw it—might as well fix the door. I’ll celebrate by accomplishing a long overdue item on my list—that’s what I’ll do. Right after my morning routine.

I bundled up a few baked potatoes in a cloth, then set them in my bear hide backpack. I also packed in my daily saltwater jar with its cork, and a waterskin of fresh water. Then I set off down the long trail to the sea.

The trail was inefficient. I had cut a path through this land many years ago and maintained it every spring and summer. It wove between personal scenic interests until finally reaching the shore. When I’d cut the path, I was attracted to massive old trees that I wanted to stop by everyday. So the trail meandered to a trio of old oaks first. Then it wove on to a pair of boulders that seemed to have been simply dropped in a pile there. Then the trail went through a copse of thin pines, then up a hill. The hill presented a beautiful vista of the sea to the west, and a bit of the valley far north. Then the trail curved southward through an open field before winding between mammoth sumac trees. Beyond the forest of sumacs was the sea.

Beneath the almost bare canopy of the sumac, I could smell the salt water. My senses were filled by the salted wind. Infinitesimal droplets of the sea sprayed across the coast. The dirt and leaf laden forest floor blended with the sand. As I approached, I began to hear the sea crashing endlessly ahead. White surf broke against bronze sand.

I passed a hand over boulders that I’d split with my forester axe to give me clear access to the coast. The axe had taken a little bit of damage, but had still been powerful enough to cleave through the giant boulders with ease, and almost without noise. I remember passing the bit of the axe through the stone like butter like it was yesterday. I was glad to have a powerful axe. Perks of having been an adventurer long ago in another life.

That’s all behind me now. Just me and my level 337 axe. Away from humans, and as far from monsters and dungeons as I can be.

Adventuring was for other people. I’d risked my life enough. All I wanted now was exactly this. Living isolated and at peace. Having the birds and the trees as my companions. Having the sea so near to me.

The water was cold today. I slipped my leather boots off and rolled up my pants. I grabbed my clay jar, and waded beyond the surf where the clams were clustered and the water was clearer. I carefully dipped the jar into the water and skimmed the surface until it was nearly full.

Small fish drifted by my ankles. Clams opened and closed. I felt the brine of the sea cling to my hair. It filled my nose with the smell of minerals and a distant earth. Though I could not see across the sea, I imagined a place similar to here. Maybe filled with monsters. Maybe filled with people. Perhaps another isolated part of the world where life could simply exist. Just like I was simply existing. Chopping wood, hunting and foraging, harvesting salt, and preparing for winter.

I popped the cork onto the jar and waded back to shore. I slipped it into my backpack, and brought out the bundled potatoes and waterskin. I put myself on the sand with a whitewashed tree trunk that had beached there years ago. Then I took my time to eat my simple breakfast.

The skin of the potatoes cracked open. The tubers were so fluffy and buttery, they fell apart like clouds. Steam rose from the broken food and smelled heavenly. While I ate, I fell in love with the sea once more.

The wind was persistent here. I have to admit that I was cold and shivering. I found comfort in the lingering warmth of the rest of my potatoes before washing them down with cold fresh water from the waterskin.

I lifted the waterskin and toasted to the sea, and to the land beside and behind me. A land and sea that fulfilled my life.

“To another ten years.”

For another hour I shivered until my body acclimated to the cold. During that time, the sun traveled a short distance through layers of silver clouds.

Better get to chopping some wood and fixing that door.

I picked myself up and brushed the bronze sand from my legs, my hands, my clothes. After gathering my things and throwing my arms through the straps of my hide backpack, I waved to the sea.

See you later dear friend.

I returned home through the sumac, across the field, over the hill, through thin pines and the rest of the twisting trail. I stopped when I came upon the clearing of my cabin.

I had logged this area during my first summer here. It was now a large meadow. My cabin rested on the other side between two autumn gardens. Upon the path that meandered toward the cabin were new footprints. Not of any animal I was familiar with.

I glanced around before crouching down to inspect the fossils. Large round imprints formed a heel and three giant toes. Smaller indentations before each toe told me that this thing had long claws. I splayed my hand across one fossil and I came just a bit short of its size.

I warily followed the footprints straight to my cabin. The door was open and I couldn’t recall if I’d left it that way or not.

I slowly approached the open door at an angle and quietly peeked inside. I didn’t see anything on quick inspection.

My forester axe was leaning against the wall by the stove so I grabbed it and retreated a distance, in case anything tried to jump out at me.

A monster? I didn’t think there were any dungeons nearby, so nothing nefarious could have come from an overgrown dungeon.

I held my axe before me. As I moved, I could almost see the very air itself split at the powerfully sharp edge of the axe.

“Level 337 axeman,” I said with a sigh.

I had a plethora of skills, just like everyone else in this world. Since living so isolated, It wasn’t often that I thought about my skills. I’d long ago turned off quest notifications, and status notifications. I haven’t even looked at my inventory in a long time. There was just no reason to anymore.

I hoped I could keep things that way but now a monster prowled my woods.

I noticed the plate I’d set on the roof was now on the ground. I thought of the birds and realized they were quiet. The canopy of the surrounding trees was quiet. The underbrush was quiet. Even the wind uttered nary a whisper.

I took another quick look around the cabin and saw nothing. I checked for more prints, but the earth was more compact here from my comings and goings, so I found none. However, both gardens had been disturbed. The monster had made a mess in the soft earth of the garden and I tried to make sense of its path. Several squash were missing. They weren’t cut from the vine, they were torn.

I might have to harvest early to avoid losing more winter food. The front door may have to wait until after I collect all these vegetables.

I couldn’t tell where the footprints went. I walked the perimeter a few times and kept an eye to the ground and an ear to the woods. Then I briefly scouted along some trails.

On my last return to my meadow, I heard the birds start to chirp up again until they all resumed their perpetual songs. The wind picked up again, and leaves began to lazily float down on gentle slopes.

Better put some salt water to evaporate, then harvest some squash. Then I’ll fix the door, and make a nice cup of tea. Yea, with a monster about, I’ll definitely have to fix the door before the day is over.