A few years ago, my daughters found a damaged sparrow’s nest thrown into the compost by a company repairing the roof of one of our neighbors. To our surprise, there was still a live chick inside, just a few days old. We took it in, fed it, and raised it, but unfortunately, when it was learning to fly, it wasn’t quick enough and was snatched by a larger bird, probably a seagull or a magpie. This was a hard experience not only for my children but also for me. I had grown attached to it, getting up early to feed it, and it recognized me. When it was in the garden, it would hop over to me from afar if I placed my hand on the grass. It was my friend during a time when I was struggling with depression. After its loss, I cried like a child for the first time in a very long while. It’s strange how a person can become so attached to other creatures.
The chirping of a bird next to my head woke me from my sleep. The familiar sound of a hungry sparrow. I sat up in bed and tried to collect myself. The room was dim, with some light seeping through the cracks in the wall; it was cold. Within the next few seconds, a hundred thoughts raced through my mind. I remembered the previous day and realized where I was. A shiver ran through me, and I felt so nauseous that I thought I was going to vomit. Quietly, I quickly ran out of the hut. Fortunately, I had slept in my clothes but hadn’t had time to put on my shoes. I ran barefoot around the corner of the hut and threw up into the bushes. I was dizzy, had trouble breathing, and my heart was pounding as if I had just sprinted several kilometers. I leaned against the wall of the hut and looked around. The whole valley was covered in fog, and the rising sun began to illuminate the top of the flat rock. The air was cold and damp, birds were singing and arguing in the bushes between the huts. Apart from that, the sound of a rushing stream flowing through the village could be heard. I stood for a moment, supporting myself against the wall, trying to calm down with positive thinking. After all, I am continuing my adventure; there is much to discover. I am continuing my game; I just need to find the main quest. Despite feeling unwell, I was probably well-rested, and my vitality points had regenerated. This kind of thinking helped me gain some distance from my situation and relax. I walked slowly toward the stream.
Apart from the chirping of the birds, it was quiet. From one hut came sounds of bustling; it looked like the villagers were already waking up. As I passed by the large hut where we had dinner, I saw three people already preparing a meal. They must have gotten up while it was still dark.
I stopped at the riverbank. The water was cold and rushing. I stripped naked and submerged myself completely under the water. It was very cold, and I felt pain in my wrists and ankles. I tried to withstand it for at least a minute. Cold plunging is healthy, at least that’s what my siblings, who were consistent with it, used to say. I tried it a few times, but after two or three days, my enthusiasm always faded.
The icy water helped wake me up, refresh, and calm down. I got out of the water, shook myself off, and dressed in my super outfit, then walked barefoot to get my shoes, which I had forgotten in the hut. After coming out of the water, the air no longer seemed so cold; I felt surprisingly good, I was happy. I entered the hut quietly, so as not to wake the others, but to my surprise, no one was there. I quickly put on my shoes and headed towards the large hut.
The villagers ate breakfast at different times. Some got up earlier, some later, so people came, sat at one table, ate quickly, chatted a bit, and went about their tasks. For breakfast, there were pancakes baked on a flat stone over the hearth. A bit hard and burnt, dipped in oil before eating. They tasted a bit like focaccia but had a very intense bitter flavor caused by herbs. Those who worked farther from the village wrapped a few cakes in cloth and took them for later.
Shortly after me, Old Beetle entered the hut accompanied by White Finger and another little boy.
"Be well" the boys greeted me.
"Do you want to go with them to gather wood?" Old Beetle asked. "We need more for tools today, it will be faster with three of you."
"Sure," I answered without thinking.
"White Finger will explain what is needed, they’ll just eat, and you can go," he said and went off to his tasks.
“That’s about it for the training course for the new worker in the wood-gathering group,” I thought to myself. Waiting for my companions, I sat on a stump outside the dining hall and admired the beautiful views of the rising mist and sun rays illuminating the trees at the edges of the valley. The thought of taking a picture crossed my mind, but this time I didn’t try to reach for my phone. Oddly enough, it was the first time today I felt the need to use the conveniences of my world. Usually, the day started with checking notifications, emails, new threads on Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, etc., before I even got out of bed.
After a few minutes of admiring the views, White Finger and his friend approached me.
"We can go," he said.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the twisted trees, over there," he replied, pointing south.
I had come from the north yesterday; we were going further south, somewhere I hadn’t been yet. It promised to be interesting. I went with the boys to the storage hut, which looked like an ordinary residential hut but had double doors. Inside were many tools, baskets with various contents, furs, and skins hanging on the walls. We took three empty baskets with carrying straps and set off.
After crossing the bridge over the river, we walked through a part of the village I hadn’t seen yet. On the southern side of the flat rock, a bit away from the huts, were two large enclosures. In one were many gray and white birds. They were the size of turkeys but had much longer legs and funny crests, a bit like cockatoo parrots. They had short but wide, black beaks and hardly moved at all. Maybe they were still sleeping. In the other enclosure were a dozen or so sheep. They were more yellow than white and had very long ears. I remember seeing similar sheep in Switzerland when I was a child, but these here were definitely taller than normal sheep. At least that’s how they looked from a distance.
We walked briskly along the beaten path, passing through the village fence gate and continuing south. Before us stretched an open grassy area at least a kilometer long, ending in a hill that blocked further view. My companions walked in complete silence. After all, it was early morning, and the sun's rays had not yet reached the valley through which we walked. After a few minutes, the sun began to light up our heads and warm us pleasantly.
Suddenly, White Finger and his friend froze in place as if paralyzed.
"Shhh," whispered White Finger and slowly pointed toward the grass beside the path ahead of us.
I crouched down and focused on the spot he indicated. There was total silence. No one moved. This lasted for about a minute. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed White Finger holding an axe, ready to strike. I began to wonder what could be hiding in such low grass and be dangerous enough to warrant defending ourselves with an axe. Suddenly, the other boy threw his axe at the spot we had been staring at for some time. I heard a screech like an angry cat, something rustled in the grass, and then it went still. The boys relaxed and approached. When I got closer, I saw a large green lizard. It was about half a meter long and had scary long toes with curved claws. The axe was embedded in the middle of its back. The boys pulled out the axe and used a small knife to cut off the lizard's head, then threw the body into one of the baskets, while one of them carried the head and did something with it using a knife.
"What kind of animal is that?" I asked, curious, as it didn’t look like any species I knew.
"Grass dragon," answered White Finger.
"Is it dangerous?" I asked again, trying to understand why we had frozen in place.
"It's venomous," he replied and continued, "a rare specimen. They are very fast when it's warm, in the morning you might be lucky to catch them."
"What is your friend doing with the dragon's head?" I continued with interest.
"Butterfly is extracting the venom," White Finger replied. "When it dries, it will turn into a crystal. We will take the crystal, teeth, and skull to the market, and the skin will be used for belts and bowstrings."
"That's a good catch, worth a basket of salt," added the other boy, from White Finger's response, I inferred his name was Butterfly.
"What would happen if it bit us?" I asked, fascinated.
"High fever and you need to drink a lot, or you die," answered Butterfly.
"Are there many venomous animals around here?"
"Not on this side of the village," White Finger continued, "grass dragons are very rare, and there are also black and gray flying dragons."
"Great!" I thought to myself. I'm now in a magical land full of dangerous venomous dragons. The chances of returning to my normal life are decreasing. In my world, the only dragons or dragon-like creatures were large lizards; all other dragons could only be found in fairy tales or games. I smiled, imagining a black flying dragon that White Finger mentioned. It probably looks like something straight out of Heroes of Might and Magic 2. Big and dangerous, but in 2D, flat as a sheet of paper and moving in turns. I had mixed feelings—I was intrigued by the chance to see creatures I had never seen before. On the other hand, I felt uneasy and a bit lost. We continued south toward the hill. White Finger noticed my interest and started telling me everything he knew about the animals in the area, what they looked like, what they ate, which ones were dangerous, which slept during the day and were only active at night. I couldn’t remember everything, there were a lot of strange names, but from the descriptions, I could relate them to animals I knew, making it a bit easier. One of the animals he described stirred a clear fear in me. It was about a large cat, which White Finger had mentioned during our first meeting. From his gestures, it seemed like a creature similar to our tiger, lion, or panther, but with longer legs and most active in the evenings and at night, hunting most other animals in the area and even people.
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