I retrieve the sheath, a dark leather recently oiled, either by the Daemon or the inventory magic. I belt it underneath my poncho. Much faster to draw the blade from my hip than my inventory space.

I inspect the pendants, both crudely marked with signs that the looting system must translate for me to understand. I remember this jewellery hung from Ramhead’s horns, whether to symbolise wealth or rank. One of the imps shouted ‘Opio’ referring to Ramhead. Must be a name or title.

I pull out the four denar, simple coins with markings on both sides. I wonder how much I can buy with this?

Right, enough plundering, we should escape this place before dark. It’s difficult to identify the time of day without seeing the sun or direct sunlight. It has certainly felt like a full 24 hours since I fell into Silva, trauma has that effect.

I make my way back to Piia, she’s looking stronger and ready to venture out.

“Ready?”

She nods in reply, putting her arm out for assistance. I let her lean on me and we embark in the direction the Daemons and bear originally appeared from. Piia leading the way, I trust her judgement, as we enter a corridor of destruction.

Shredded bushes, snapped branches and clawed trunks clearly outline the bear's path towards the clearing. Patches of dried blood mark the Daemon's route, like a black highway through the forest.

Further down the highway, I consider our destination and the possibility of walking into more Daemons or bears.

“Is your tribe close by?”

Piia shakes her head in a ‘no’.

“That’s good. I’m thinking there could be more Daemons and bears in the area, didn’t they come from this direction? We could end up walking into more of them?”

Piia points down the highway with determination, ‘This is the way’.

“Ok, that is our bearing. But how about we step off this corridor and into the denser shrubbery?’ Piia stops and points into the forest and croaks a word.

“Sloooow.” She then points down the corridor, I reply before she can speak.

“Fast, I get it.”

We move on. I have the sword, though I’m just as likely to hurt myself as anyone else. I need practice and a tutor. I could become a great swordsman and travel this world, visiting incredible sights and having grand adventures.

The Daemon's face flashes into my mind, claws flying and tearing flesh. I look at my blood stained arm, wound hot and stinging. My short lived dream vanished with the realisation, I’d die very quickly alone.

The shadows slowly deepen as we stumble along. The glow of Mother’s lights stands out, beautifully speckled throughout the forest, unfortunately they aren’t strong enough to allow travel at nighttime.

The gentle woodland noises you associate with Disney movies, die down as the sun slumbers. I become more aware of our loud laboursome footsteps, snapping twigs and dried leaves. Still shoulder to shoulder we catch bushes every few metres, our movement more about comfort for Piia than stealth.

The previous magical wonder I felt dies with the light. Fear creeps in with the shadows and the creatures that begin their hunt, it’s an innate primal reaction from my hunter-gatherer ancestors.

Piia searches continuously, I assume for predators, stops and cranes her head around a tree. Squinting into the darkness, her eyesight was clearly better adapted than mine.

She nods out into the woods and we bank off the exposed corridor and into the deep woods.

We quickly come across a round wall of moss and leaves. Piia stops me short before I collide head first with the horizontal carpet.

The events of the day have left me spent, I recall the wounded Satyr being the support for the last half an hour. She’s certainly made of sterner stuff. Up close I realise the wall of moss is a very girthy tree trunk. We manoeuvre around the trunk, Piia searching with her apparent owl eyes. I consider lying on the ground and sleeping, I’ll say a prayer to Mother for my new bear sleeping bag.

Piia stops and lowers herself to the ground, she must have had the same thought.

In a prone position, she pulls back the moss and foliage to reveal a gap and crawls through, wincing with effort and strain on her leg.

I follow her inside to discover a secret of Silva. The inside is hollow and filled with green motes floating around. Capable of housing four people comfortably, the dangling motes illuminate the internal space like emerald fairy lights.

The soft moss also carpets the floor and the inside of the trunk. I crawl to one side and rest my head, eyes fluttering with exhaustion. I can just make out Piia’s shape in the low light, her body rising and falling with deep breaths of slumber. Before the sandman can choke me out, I feel my stomach complain with hunger. That’s tomorrow's problem.