(Eli's POV)
The second day started with the cawing of crows overhead.
I pushed the door open and stepped outside, stretching my back with a grimace. Muscles ached in places I didn't know could ache. My clothes were still damp, the air still sharp with cold, but the sky had cleared. It was early—judging by the angle of the sun, maybe an hour after dawn.
The first thing I did was walk the perimeter again. The land had a quiet to it, not peace—nothing here was peaceful—but stillness. Like it was holding its breath. The trees swayed, but nothing moved in the underbrush.
I was about halfway along the fence line when I heard it.
Hoofbeats.
Distant at first. Then louder. Then fast.
Someone—or something—was coming.
I dropped to a knee behind a moss-covered stump and gripped the hatchet tight. My heart pounded, throat dry. I scanned the treeline.
She came tearing out of the woods, barefoot, running full speed.
She was maybe five foot five, blonde hair tangled and soaked with sweat. Her dress was ripped halfway up her thigh, stained with dirt and blood. She looked behind her once, then kept running.
She didn't see me until she was ten feet away.
"Please!" she cried, her voice raw. "Don't let them take me back!"
Before I could respond, she crashed into me. I caught her instinctively, steadying her as she clung to my shirt.
Behind her, four riders burst through the trees. Armored from head to toe, their Bretonnian heraldry unmistakable. Banners snapped in the wind, and lances gleamed in the morning light.
I stepped in front of the girl and held the hatchet low, eyes locked on the lead knight.
"She's my fiancée," I said firmly. "She came here to be with me. We were supposed to meet in Ubersreik, but the roads were too dangerous, so she came on her own."
The lead knight slowed his horse to a trot, his helm tilting slightly. "This land belongs to no man. You're squatting in beastman territory."
"I know where I am," I said. "She was fleeing raiders. She came here for safety, not to be taken back to some court to be claimed like livestock."
Another knight, younger by his posture, leaned forward. "What proof do you have that she's yours?"
I reached down and gently took her hand. "We've been betrothed nearly a year," I said without hesitation. "Our families arranged it. I came ahead to prepare a home. She was supposed to follow with her escort, but they abandoned her at the edge of the forest. I've been waiting."
The knight looked at her. "Is that true?"
Her voice didn't tremble. "Yes. I came to be with him."
There was a long silence. The knights looked us both over—me, covered in mud and grime, and her, half-dressed and barefoot. But I didn't flinch, and neither did she.
The lead knight grunted, then gestured to the others. "She's your problem now."
And they turned and rode off into the forest.
As soon as they were gone, she sagged against me, breathing hard.
"You didn't have to do that," she whispered.
"You asked me not to let them take you," I said. "So I didn't."
"Why say fiancée?"
"Because if I'd said 'wife,' they would've known we were lying. No wife travels alone through monster territory unless her husband's already dead. But a betrothed? That's more believable."
She gave a soft laugh. "Smart."
"I try."
We spent the rest of that day in near silence. The knights were gone, but the tension stayed. Alina didn't let go of her borrowed cloak until the sun began to dip. She didn't speak again until we were inside, a fire crackling weakly in the hearth, the farmhouse smelling faintly of damp wood and old blood.
"I'm Alina," she said finally.
"Eli Thorn."
She tilted her head. "That's a strange name."
I said nothing
"I suppose you're not from around here?"
"No."
She took that in stride. Either she didn't care enough to get more information out of me, or she'd seen enough horror in the last few weeks that my origin didn't even crack the top five.
"I was a baker's daughter," she said after a while. "Now I'm not anything."
"You're alive. That's enough for today."
The next morning, I started making plans.
The barn had to be rebuilt. If I could secure even one half of it, I'd have space to keep future livestock or store supplies. I began by pulling out the rotted beams with a rope and brute strength. Alina kept watch with a rusted sickle she'd found under the hearth.
By midmorning, my arms were shaking, and my palms were raw. I wiped sweat from my face and turned toward the trees—just in time to see something dart through the underbrush.
"Did you see that?" I asked.
Alina was already gripping the sickle tighter. "Something moved."
I grabbed the hatchet and edged toward the treeline. The underbrush rustled again.
Then, a blur.
A creature—not quite a dog, not quite a fox—bounded into the clearing, tail wagging. It had shimmering pale blue fur, ears too long, eyes that glowed faintly even in daylight.
It looked right at me. Then vanished.
"Where—"
A weight landed on my back. Not claws, not teeth. Paws. The thing had teleported onto me.
I staggered, spun, and it jumped off, yipping playfully.
Alina stared, stunned. "That's… not normal."
I crouched, hatchet still in hand. The creature crept closer. Sniffed my boot. Sat down. Wagged its tail again.
"Wisp," I said. "You look like a Wisp."
It yipped.
I offered it a piece of dried rabbit from last night's supper. It took it gently, then teleported three feet to the left and ate in peace.
I sat down, laughing.
Day 4 - Journal Entry
Species: Blink Dog Size: Pup (approx. 2 ft at shoulder) Coloration: Pale blue, white-tipped tail and paws Behavior: Affectionate, energetic, instinctively teleports when startled or excited Diet: Carnivorous, accepted cooked rabbit
Observation: Appeared without warning. Shows immediate trust. Forms attachment quickly.
Name: Wisp
—
Alina took to him faster than I expected. She didn't touch him, not at first, but she talked to him when she thought I wasn't listening. Called him brave. Called him a miracle.
Maybe he was.
Wisp followed me around like a shadow. He didn't need a leash. If I wandered too far, he blinked beside me, tail wagging like mad. He curled up beside the hearth that night and fell asleep snoring.
I didn't sleep much. Not from fear. From thinking.
This wasn't a coincidence.
He wasn't from this world. I was sure of it. I recognized the species from Dungeons & Dragons—creatures that didn't exist here. Couldn't.
Unless something had dragged both me and them into this place.
Day 5
I built a makeshift pen beside the barn's remains, hammering together scrap wood and old nails. It wasn't much, but it would keep a small animal safe—if we ever got livestock.
We took turns watching the treeline. It felt like we were being observed. Alina saw movement near dusk, tall figures in the brush. Cloven hooves. Horned shadows.
Beastmen.
Too far off to be an immediate threat. Close enough to worry.
We reinforced the windows that night. Laid planks across the front door. Alina didn't speak much. Neither did I.
Wisp growled until dawn.
Day 6 - Journal Entry
Signs of activity in the woods.
Tracks: Cloven, heavy. Likely ungor or gor. No bray-shaman symbols yet.
Farm is not secure.
Must reinforce perimeter. Look into trade. Tools low. Food nearly out.
Alina knows herbs. Will send her to map nearby vegetation tomorrow. I'll patrol the northern edge with Wisp.
Barn work postponed. Focus is now survival.
We're not alone anymore. That's the good news and the bad.