Grafteir, the mighty dungeon … for beginners and beginnings. It's been said that the only reason the critters at the entrance are level 1 is that there is no level 0. In my village such a pithy statement is usually followed by a “Unless you're Sara”. Usually it's Tom adding that one. I take a moment to consider what grandiose statement should mark our arrival. Father beats me to it.
“Where's your vest?”
Shit, looking down and groping myself. “In the caaart…” I'm wincing as I say it.
Father's only answer is to grip the bridge of his nose. It's a sight I am well used to.
“I'll run and get it” Tom volunteers to escape the mood.
“No, best to stay together and enter the dungeon. The cold will provide lesson enough to not do it again.”
Going by past memories it's not a lesson that has ever took.
The entrance looks like a subway hump, if it was made of dirt. There is enough clearance for even Father's six king feets. There are stairs which thankfully appear to be stone. To the right there is a stake with what looks to be a fountain orb on the top of it. Though there is no water to purify, which is weird. Both my brother and father touch it briefly. I reach out to do the same.
“Stop, not you”
“Why not”
My brother answers when my father continues forward “Cause you're voiceless, stupid.”
I take the comment with grace and humility. With his back to me, I give him a proper salute. He wouldn't understand it anyways. Also I'm not sure what the [Common] word for fuck is.
We start on the stairs and there are a lot of them. I start counting as dirt walls and dirt ceilings aren't very interesting. By the time I reach fifty, I'm out of stairs and out of breath. I'm bent over wheezing with my hands on my knees. Brother and father are not. I hear a stream to my left. I rush to it without really considering the surroundings.
After taking my fill of water that may or may not be full of pathogens. I noticed something I could really use an explanation on.
“How is it that we went fifty steps down and can still see the sky?”
“How can you count to fifty?” Tom is focused on the wrong part of my question.
“It's not hard Tom, just count you fingers five times"
Father gives me a strange look at that one. I look back at him, confused. He chooses to ignore both my question and confusion. Instead he simply states.
“The dungeon hasn't reset yet.”
Curious. “How do you know?”
He points and my eyes follow. There is blood staining the grass in places, which just aggravates me further. There is enough sunlight for grass, not there is an actual sun in the sky or clouds for that matter. Just an underground field with a blue sky and grass. With a giant dirt wall behind us.
As I am agonizing about this Tom asked the follow up. “So what does that mean?”
“We'll need to go further in. Hopefully there are still some horned rabbits around.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Memories of cartoon rabbits with spindly horns jutting on their forehead flood my mind accompanied by a rather bombastic tune. My humming is almost immediately shushed by father. He starts to walk forward, stops and reaches into his satchel. Jerky in hand, he hands our lunch out. I feel slighted by my meager portion but as my mouth is occupied by the tough chew, I say nothing.
With our bellies reminded that we haven't forgotten them, we proceed forward. Trees come into view and I mentally give up asking questions. The trees look like oak, or spruce, maybe magnolia … I don't know trees and to be honest I'm sure they have [Common] names that I'll not remember anyways.
“What types of trees are they?” Tom asks.
“Oak.”
Today is just full of things to file into my WTF folder. At least the trees leave plenty of room to walk through. Pretty good lighting as well. Guess beginner dungeons don't do the creepy forest thing. I regret that thought after we passed the first tree.
We're in darkness now, until our eyes adjust. Now I can only see up to the next tree that's seven kings feet away, give or take. I'm quite sure all the trees were full of leaves and now none of them do. Instead they all have gained faces with way too many teeth. Fleeing is not going to put food on the table so we continue forward. I do my best to stay away from the trees. Then the howling starts.
I make my best efforts at seeing everything around myself. All I manage is seeing creepy trees and hurting my neck. Tom is not doing much better, but he is trying to get his knife out while still frantically looking around. Father is looking in only one direction, his hatchet already in hand. He bends his knees, his stance is low. Tom has his knife out now as well and is also looking where father is. I still don't see anything in any direction so I decide perhaps getting my knife out should be my focus.
Being the smallest makes me the most likely right? This thought increases my struggle to free my knife from my belt. Like who winds the cord so haphazardly. The same person who got yelled at for losing their knife, and doesn't have a knot skill. I'll need to have a word with past Sara about knots again, a problem for future Sara. There’s a yelp from what looks like a wolf to the right side of Tom. Father already retracting his foot. I focus harder on the knot and free my knife.
“Tom, focus on the one I just kicked. Sara stay close, keep an eye on our blind spots. I think there might be three.”
Definitely wolves, two of them are slowly moving forward ready to pounce. One is to father's left, my side, and one to the right, between father and Tom. Father moves fast to engage the one on his right. The hatchet comes down onto the wolves head, there is a squelch sound that I really don't want to think about. I stand between father and the wolf he ignored. The wolf is eyeing father's back even as I frantically wave my knife at it. I shout a warning and the speed my father moves seems super human. The hatchet comes down again catching the beast mid jump. It hits the wolf in the shoulder and the follow through slams the wolf to the ground. Father raises the hatchet again and brings it down on the wolf’s head, another squelch. Father is breathing heavily now, his eyes looking for more threats. He reacts slowly, raising his arm to ward the attack aimed at his throat. The offering is accepted, the fourth wolf jaws latch onto father's arm.
There that squelch sound again, a snap and father's yell that followed it. The hatchet is on the ground now. Father is punching the wolf's head, trying to force it back. The wolf is larger than the others, I'm hesitating, but both my hands are gripping my knife. Father is on his back now, the wolf is still latched firmly on his arm. I run forward and stab at the wolf. It's a glancing blow to its shoulder, I don't think I broke the skin.
I'm not sure why but I think father back handed me. I landed on my butt sans knife. It's in father left hand now and he is stabbing the wolf. The dagger goes in, comes out and goes back in. The wolf is not letting go. It doesn't take long before the wolf is dead.
“Tom, if you're done over there, come help me get this bastard off me.”
I'm not asked because I am worthless. I couldn't even draw blood on a mostly stationary wolf. Tom arrives and he starts to help pry the jaws off father's arm.
“Slowly, bloody pack leader won't let go.”
Together they managed to free the arm. It's clearly broken, the flesh ravaged. I would try to look away but all I'm doing is staring. This isn't good. It's his dominant hand. Winter has only just begun, we are going to have to keep coming here. And it is his dominant hand. Are we going to be able to keep killing these things? Is there going to be enough . . .
“SARA” I look at the face shouting at me, I'm not sure who I'm looking at. “Go find a branch that we can use as a splint. Here”
A knife is thrown gently in front of me. I look down, see the blood, I pick it up, wiping my hands absently on my pants. I find a good branch that is still attached to a tree. I saw through the branch, trying not to think of parallels that might be in the future.
