The sun had peaked above us several hours ago and was now drifting towards the mountains to the west. We hadn’t pushed the horses too hard and during the times of gentle walking I began to teach Sun the letters of the alphabet with the aid of her HUD. Frustration had given way to anger. Anger to resignation. But as we ate our lunch on the saddles, something seemed to click for her. Resignation became cautious optimism. Cautious optimism finally gave way to understanding. By the time we were secreted well away from the trail for dinner, she was singing the old alphabetical ditty I was taught in school and could identify the letters I scraped in the mud with perfect accuracy.

“I can’t believe I can read now!” she exclaimed.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I cautioned. “You know the letters that make up the words. The words themselves are a different matter. You’re doing amazingly well though. Truly.”

I insisted on making myself useful with the fire and dinner. Sun had been reluctant until I urged her to start drawing the alphabet while I watched. Her demeanour when training with me was one of contained, hungry excitement. She enjoyed battle, that much was plain. This hardened shell changed to a childlike wonder as she recreated the letters from memory, laughing as I confirmed each one in turn.

During the course of less than forty-eight hours, we had gelled into friends. Both of us had something the other wanted, and each was only too happy to provide it. My after dinner workout was intense, but I learned how to slip backward and forward while attacking. I was no medieval knight, but I was no longer a complete novice either. The rate at which I was picking it up was more than a natural affinity for combat. It was something to do with the game. A subtle boost to cut down on the wasted time of endless repetition. I was getting a true feel for the movements of my body and the motion of the weapon. Sun looked at me with the same pride while I swung the flail as I had while she scuffed the mud with the stick.

“These lessons will translate well when we find you a proper weapon,” Sun assured me.

“If you say so,” I replied sourly. I still liked my flail and I knew exactly why, because I had the same weakness while gaming. I would become so excited to see the glowing orange colour of a new weapon and the rarity that it represented that I’d use it for hours without thinking of the practicality. The boss could drop me a legendary spatula and I’d merrily slap the shit out of the enemies with it. My perfectly viable epic long sword would remain in my inventory as I died a hundred times to trash mobs who laughed off my pathetic, culinary attacks. I would then piss and moan and re-equip the sword while leaving the Spatula of Doom to gather dust. In this game, I couldn’t afford to die a hundred times clinging on to something that was shiny but useless.

Night stole any chance I had of continuing my training, so I settled by the firepit. “Sun, we could start doing basic words if you want. We call it phonics.”

She ignored my question and I noticed her looking off into space. “I’ve noticed something, Mark. It’s up to you whether we use it to our advantage.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve played around with the map on my screen. I can make it bigger or smaller.”

“I was going to explain that to you at some point,” I replied. “What of it?”

“If I’m correct, which I am, we could be at the caves by the time the moon peaks. We can either attack or use the darkness to see how the land lies. When going up against a group, good information is key to success.”

My full stomach started to churn a little. I’d sworn retribution against the greenskins and, to my surprise, felt little compunction when putting them down. The people we were going against were real humans. I doubted my detachment would endure when I was crushing the bones of men that looked just like me; who begged, and screamed, and bled like me. My thoughts turned to Honey and the days I was losing being in this world. The ever-present panic was like a smaller version of Ratty, trapped in my mind, slowly gnawing at my resolve. With the tasks before me, it wasn’t out of the question I’d be away for months, if not years before the aliens gave their assent to our continuance. Or our extermination, whichever way they went.

“Did I say something wrong? You look troubled.”

“I’ve got friends back in my world. Every minute I spend here I’m losing time with them.” I had a recurring image of a small wooden cross in my tiny back yard with the word Honey etched in the grain. It was crippling.

“Then you know what we have to do?” she replied.

“Rush into danger and certain death?”

“It’ll save time, certainly.”

“Ok, but before we go, I want to try something. Like the torches, I’ve got a stack of goods in my invisible pack. I’m going to try and give you some of my healing potions.”

“Healing…?”

I thought about the transfer as Sun was questioning my meaning. She flinched again, still unused to the bizarre interface I’d forced upon her. “I’ve given you ten. Can you see them?”

“I can only see my strange window.”

“Click on your inventory. Spelled like this.” I drew the letters in the mud by the scant light of the fire.

“I can see them! What do they do?”

“When you’re injured you can use them to heal yourself. It says potion, but you don’t need to drink it for the effects to work. Can you also see a row of ten small boxes like this?” I scrubbed the letters out and drew the horizontal pattern.

“I see it.”

“I want you to move the potions to the first box.”

Sun reached out at the air as if she could pluck them from the display. One appeared in her hand and she dropped it in shock. The soft leaf mulch prevented any damage to the glass bottle. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is good practice. Before we try again, I want you to collect the bottle without touching it. Just think it into your own pack.”

She focused intently on the potion and it disappeared. “I did it!”

“Now, think the rest of them into the first box.”

Her eye twitched. “Yes! They’re in there.”

“Perfect. Now if you get hurt, just think about taking one and you’re golden. You don’t need to physically drink it for it to work.”

Sun pondered my words. “How does it work? Is it like a bottle of strong alcohol?”

“No. This doesn’t just numb the pain, Sun. This literally heals your wounds while you watch. The effect is that quick. Remember my toes?”

Her life since meeting me was one hammer blow of astonishment after another. She looked uncertain of this one, despite the impossibilities I’d already shown her. Imagine my surprise when she pulled out an axe and ran the blade across the ball of her thumb.

“What are you doing?” I blurted.

“Trying one,” she replied as if I was three oxen shy of a herd. Staring at the deep cut, she marvelled as the flesh joined itself back together. Poking at the site of the wound, Sun was awestruck. “How?”

“Godspawn, remember?” I replied.

“When we get back to Pitchhollow, we’re definitely having drinks at the inn and you can tell me the story of how you came to be. Until then…” She began to stalk the horses who were stood knee deep in the small pond that had formed nearby.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she replied, the lie evident in her tone.

“Sun?”

She waded into the water, walked up to her horse, and reached out. The chestnut steed vanished. Small geysers of water splashed as the empty space where Duke’s legs had been suddenly refilled.

“What the shit!” I cried, stumbling over my own feet to get to the pond.

“Interesting,” Sun said as if the event was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bolt snorted as he looked for his missing friend. Sun trudged through the sloppy mud beneath her feet and reached out to him. In the blink of an eye, all that remained of my horse were four gently settling rings rippling across the water.

“What have you done?”

“I think I’ve put our horses into those boxes too. Let me try and get them back.”

They appeared out of nowhere, none the worse for wear. Bolt looked at Duke briefly before splashing around in the pond again.

Sun turned to me and I didn’t like the look of mischief on her face one little bit. “Wait!” I snapped, only to see her face drop.

“It doesn’t work. I can’t put you in my pack.”

“I can’t believe you tried!”

“What’s the point of having gifts if you don’t try to use them?”

Her words rang true. I was guilty of ignoring most of what I’d been given. It took me a ridiculous amount of time to even pick a class for god’s sake. “Can I try doing it with you?”

“Of course,” she replied, bracing herself. “I’m ready.”

I selected her but all that was available was her character tab and the ability to transfer goods between us. I noticed one thing and I needed to know if it was reciprocated. “Sun, can you access the stuff in my pack?”

She looked hard at me then shook her head. “No. I can see the items that are in your bar, but your in word doesn’t work when I think about it.”

“Inventory.”

“Yes. Inventory.”

Well that answered my question. I felt like a shit but I tried to open hers. I had full access. “Sun, I can take stuff from you. I won’t, but I can. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you for your honesty. If you take my axes without fighting me I’ll punch you in the danglies.”

“Danglies?”

“Your man bits.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Then don’t steal my axes.”

I put my hand on my heart. “I promise I won’t. Now I don’t want to seem crazy, but would it be best if we… erm… packed the horses for the journey? It’ll be easier if we’re on foot through the dark rather than trying to have them walk all over the roots.”

“It’s not crazy at all. They will be perfectly safe.”

I had one small spanner to throw in those works. “What if we die?”

“I don’t die easily. I’ll release them if I’m going to fall.”

That seemed like a reasonable measure to take in the event of our failure. “Cool. Shall we go?”

She plucked the horses from the water once again and nodded. “Follow me.”