Riley stepped out of the still broken door that she managed to rest against the door frame. For the first time since waking in this world, she felt as though the tower was something she could depend on, at least for a while.

  Her HUD glowed faintly in the corner of her vision.

  The cooldown timer continued counting down from the last exchange. The timer steadied and locked in. No more fussing. No more hovering. That was done.

  Riley adjusted the long stick across her shoulders, the bucket of water hanging from one end and the helmet full of wheat balanced on the other. The hatchet tucked into the loop at her waist felt strange against her hip, but it was the kind of strange she could get used to. Her wide brimmed sun hat cast a pleasant shadow over her eyes and she took one last look back at the tower standing in the morning light.

  The morning sun warmed her shoulders while the river whispered beside her. Each careful step forward revealed another small portion of the map. A soft shimmer expanded the revealed area and the grey haze pulled back. More trees appeared, marked automatically as wood. Tiny flickers of yellow showed food sources tucked into the bushes along the riverbank that she must have missed during her frantic early days.

  “How did I walk right past all this,” she whispered.

  A sharp thought hit her. Once she was done with Rivermark, she could return to this spot to try and gather these resources but she had no way to carry massive loads back to the tower. The cart was too large for the uneven river edge and she could not drag wood or stone for miles.

  She muttered that she needed a horse or a mule or something with four legs and a sense of direction.

  Not surprisingly, nothing happened as miracles were apparently limited in stock here, so she kept walking.

  The riverbank path narrowed steadily. What had been a welcoming trail dissolved into chaotic brush. The tight quarters made it difficult to hold her yoke steady. The bucket swayed at the end of the stick, threatening to spill.

  She grumbled to herself.

  She had not spoken to an actual person in days. No wonder she kept muttering to tools.

  At one point, the path simply vanished. The HUD still showed the map line continuing, but the real world offered nothing except a wall of green.

  She pushed through with a series of frustrated breaths that might have been curses if she had the energy to articulate them. Sweat dripped down the side of her face. The stick with the bucket and helmet dug into her shoulders. Her hat protected her from the sun but it also trapped heat uncomfortably against her scalp.

  Eventually a faint path re-appeared through the bush, so narrow that she might have missed it if she blinked.

  Its existence, as faint as it was, was proof that other people had ventured this way and she wasn’t aimlessly wandering.

  Walking for hours left her mind free to drift where she did not want it to go. It kept replaying her dreams. The cube pulsed in her memory, glowing blue and warm in the darkness. It had seemed familiar, as though the one on the mantel had reached into her sleep. She had not imagined that light. She was certain of it. She wondered if the cube was trying to communicate with her. Maybe she had failed to use it properly and the dream was pointing out unresolved business as dreams tend to do. Perhaps there was a command she had not tried or a function she had not uncovered.

  She shook her head and focused on the trail ahead.

  Thinking about Rivermark felt safer. She imagined a small cluster of buildings with a few tables set up as market stalls, perhaps with cloth stretched overhead for shade. Maybe there was an inn or even a run-down motel-style lodging. The thought of a medieval motel was ridiculous and it brought her a slight smile.

  Her smile faded as she wondered whether the people there would even understand her. The thought that she might be walking into a village looking half starved and carrying a bucket and helmet full of wheat made her cringe.

  Then the silence returned. Not actual silence though because she could still hear herself breathing and the sounds of nature around her. Silence in that ‘power is out and my phone is dead’ kind of way. Silence that comes from being alone with your thoughts with nothing around to distract you.

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  The solitude pressed against her like something physical. She spoke aloud simply to reassure herself that her voice still worked. It sounded thin and strange, almost like someone else’s voice.

  A sharp barking noise broke her thoughts. The sound was distant, somewhere in the forest behind her. It was unmistakable, that same bright and excited bark she had heard before. She stiffened, then told herself it was far enough away not to matter. There was no reason to panic. She would not let her imagination run away again.

  With nothing else to distract her, her thoughts returned to the tower. What if something attacked while she was gone. She pictured smoke rising from a burnt roof and her tools stolen. The image of someone discovering the obelisk made her stomach twist. She imagined returning to the tower and finding a stranger sitting comfortably by her fire.

  For a moment she almost turned around. She stared behind her. The tower was far behind her now. Turning back would waste hours that she did not have.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had no ore, no waterskin, no weapon except her hatchet, and barely enough food to keep going.

  The tower was vulnerable, but she was even more vulnerable without proper supplies. She had to keep going.

  Her thoughts slid into darker questions this time.

  How had she arrived in this world? Was she summoned or teleported or drugged? Had she died and been pulled into some alternate afterlife? Was she being punished for something?

  The possibilities all felt absurd, but none were impossible anymore.

  She thought about her warm bed and steaming showers and her mother’s voice on the phone. She thought about her phone itself and almost laughed because she would never complain about low battery again.

  Gathering resources had been the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. She felt uneasy because focusing on survival tasks was easier than facing the truth that she might never find a way home.

  She talked to herself in a soft monotone as she continued walking.

  She needed ore and the map had shown none near the tower. While she was at it, she needed a waterskin or a bottle that did not slosh like a bucket. She needed a real weapon that could help her defend the meagre belongings she had acquired. She needed food that did not consist of berries and wheat. She needed a proper pack, something with straps that did not dig into her hands. And, she needed transportation of any kind. She pictured a horse but would settle for a stubborn donkey.

  Rivermark was her only hope. The village might have answers or at least enough supplies to keep her alive longer than another week.

  But she could not tell anyone that she lived alone in a half-rebuilt tower. Not until she knew who she was dealing with.

  She imagined leading some opportunistic traveler straight back to her most valuable possessions. That unsettling image snapped her focus back into place. She would give no one more information than absolutely necessary.

  The path widened slowly as the late morning or early afternoon light shifted. The thick brush gave way to more open woodland. Trees stood farther apart and sunlight reached the forest floor. The faint path became something more distinct.

  Before long Riley found a real dirt trail worn into the ground. She paused and touched the packed soil with the toe of her boot. It was strange to realize a moment like this could feel so monumental. She was standing on proof that people walked this way regularly.

  She followed the trail until it emptied out to a road that was wider and smoother. Wheel ruts and deep grooves could be seen. Hoofprints dotted the edges in uneven patterns. After another long stretch of walking, she spotted fence posts in the distance, some upright, some leaning, but all signs that this was not an empty wilderness.

  A faint scent of smoke drifted toward her on a breeze and she lifted her head to find the source. Chimneys. Or cooking fires. Or a forge. Her pulse quickened.

  The murmur of voices reached her before she saw the village. They floated across the air like threads she could almost grasp. Laughter mixed with something that sounded like someone calling instructions.

  Her chest tightened with both anticipation and fear because she had wanted this so desperately, but the idea of actually speaking to people again made her hands tremble.

  Finally, she saw Rivermark properly, she stopped to take in the view. The village sat behind an eight-foot-tall wall of sharpened logs that formed a solid palisade. It looked sturdy and practical. A single wooden gate stood closed at the end of the road.

  The place felt calm and fortified, not welcoming but not hostile either.

  She adjusted her hat and sighed; it did little to lend her confidence. She needed to look as though she knew what she was doing, or risk being taken advantage of in the negotiations.

  Before she reached the gate she noticed movement. Something sat in front of it, still and unmistakable. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the shape and color.

  It was the dog she had seen near the river a day or so before. The same scruffy creature with brown and cream fur and bright eyes. It sat patiently as if waiting for her. When she approached, its tail thumped against the ground. It tilted its head at her in a way that felt almost judgmental. Then it barked once, a sharp and cheerful sound that echoed off the wooden wall. The dog barked again, louder, and she flinched. She tried to hush it, but the dog ignored her and barked repeatedly, its tail wagging fast enough to stir dust.

  She was so focused on quieting the animal that she almost missed the shadows shifting under the gate. Someone inside had heard the commotion. Boots shuffled at the base of the gate, perhaps two pairs or maybe three. A deeper voice murmured something. Another voice responded with irritation. Then the gate creaked slowly and opened a small gap.

  Riley’s pulse hammered but she resisted the impulse to reach for her hatchet. Instead, she took a steady breath and adjusted her posture, power posing herself into a new, more confident persona.

  “First contact,” she whispered to herself. “Do not mess this up.”

  The gate opened a small amount and a figure stepped into view.