A/N: Alright. Here's what's going on.

The original version of this fic was a flaming garbage fire. Normally, I would not delete or otherwise erase any story of mine, even if it was such. I want my mistakes to be visible so as to encourage new writers. However, Fanfiction dot net only allows one version of any story to be posted at a time. The rewritten version of this fic is actually good. I can't in good conscience leave readers who only browse this site stuck with the inferior version. So I deleted the original and am uploading the revised version in its place.

The first one and three quarters chapters are basically unchanged. The story didn't take a mistaken turn until near the end of chapter 2, when a huge story logic error was committed. Everything after that point is incredibly different, and the last 2 chapters of this version straight-up didn't exist before. It really is a different story that happens to go by the same name.

I still believe in not covering up my mistakes. So there will be an author note at the end of each revised chapter explaining what was different in the original version and why I decided to revise it. That's gonna be, uh, quite a lengthy series of notes.

Now for the usual things that go in an opening note: There is no sex in this fic. No nudity. Some violence, a single description of blood, and a single use of the word "vomit" (no description). Content warning for struggles with depression. I'm a psychology major, so I like exploring thoughts and feelings. I'm also neurodivergent, so the entire story is viewed through that lens. And this fic ends in a bittersweet way, emphasis on the bitter.

This story will be posted pretty fast, but I won't hold myself to any set schedule. There will be no more than one chapter posted per day. I'm hoping to get it out before another quest comes out and derails my plans yet again. "Hawk in the Sky" forced a significant revision to my plans that, in retrospect, made me get my head out of my childish wish for everything to go my way and make this story into the tragedy it rightfully should be. I don't think any more major revisions would be helpful. This is the final rewrite.

Now, onto the story.

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I woke up, saw the sunlight shining through my eyelids, put an arm over my eyes to block it out, and nearly leaped out of my skin. There was a stick in my back! Why was there a stick in my back? I sat up and looked all around, not the slightest bit sleepy.

This was not the familiar bedroom where I had gone to sleep the night before. Nor was it a geographic location close to my home. I was in a freakin' forest, a full-sized one where the trees were so high I couldn't see their tops. I stared up at them and marveled at how beautiful and new this sight was. I'd never been in a forest like that. There were no old-growth forests anywhere near my home, and I'd never traveled to one. I had no idea what kind of trees they were, but they didn't look familiar. After admiring the trees for a while, I looked down at myself. I took a deep breath. And I started to panic.

An hour later, the panic subsided. I worked the last of the shakes out and stood up. First priority: get new clothes. My Pirates of the Caribbean t-shirt was going to stick out like a sore thumb no matter where I was. Next priority: find friendly people and ingratiate myself to them. I needed protection and information, ASAP.

Technically, I had a zeroth priority: figure out how to do that. How to walk through the woods without drawing attention, how to avoid hostile animals, how to fight them off if I couldn't avoid them… I had precisely zero knowledge of how to do any of those things. And then how to get clothes without someone seeing me and raising an alarm: I didn't know how to do that either. Hence the panic earlier. But I was okay; I'd used up my reserves of panic and would need time to replenish them. In that time, I would do what I needed to do.

I headed for high ground. That was the thing to do when you needed to look for something in the wilderness, right? Go higher for a better view? I went higher. I did not get a better view. The ground was all smooth, with no conveniently-placed cliff where I could look out into open air. The trees blocked my view. If I wanted to go higher for a better view, I was going to have to learn how to climb trees. That was not happening, so I reversed my strategy. Go low and hope to find water. A stream or river would surely lead me to people. Maybe I could find someone bathing and steal their clothes.

Halfway down a promising hill, I started to get suspicious of minor sounds I heard behind me. I continued on as if not afraid. I cheered internally when I spotted some large fallen branches. They were just small enough for me to lift one in each arm. I learned that trick from Hannibal. I picked up the branches and continued on my way. As soon as I heard a distinct footstep, I turned and raised the branches up as if I had gigantic wings and roared.

A furry, bipedal, strangely anthropomorphic creature with very long claws squeaked and ran away. I stared after it with my jaw hanging open. Was that a Clawkin?

Oh gods, I was doomed.

I mean, just… Just the sheer frequency of monster encounters… Unless the game designers cut out lots of time spent roaming around not fighting monsters… Could I really be in a game world? Oh, for the love of snuggles, depending on where in the plot I was I was either done for or finished. "I don't want to die," I whispered. I turned and ran downhill. The gods of luck, specifically timing, had always been on my side. I prayed that they still existed in this universe and that they would come to my aid once more.

I found a stream, which I interpreted as a sign of continued favor. It was more like a brook really, a little thing. I followed it downhill until it widened into a proper stream. Then I started to creep more cautiously, keeping my ears out for human activity. I considered putting my branches down. Instead, I found smaller ones to replace them. That was probably safe to do, since only fairly small creatures could follow me through this kind of terrain.

My stomach started to complain. "Should've negotiated with the Clawkin," I whispered. They might have been able to steal stuff for me. Anyway, I kept going.

I'd been walking for a couple of hours, and probably covered less than a mile. That was because I had to place my bare feet carefully. So when I started to hear splashing, I considered it another sign of favor from the luck gods that I had happened to wake up so close to humans. Either luck, or any number of other reasons, depending on which of the explanations for my current situation were true. I had suspicions. I went over them in my head as I crept closer.

It turned out to be a kid playing in the stream. At first I was disappointed. On second thought, I was relieved. An adult with more foresting experience would probably have detected me. I didn't know a lot about how to hide, either. The kid did not see me. He ran back to his house, which was very close by. How had I not seen it? I snuck around, spending a lot more time and maintaining a greater distance than was probably necessary. But it was worth it; they had a clothesline in their backyard. I couldn't see in the back windows very well. Fortunately, I heard a woman's voice out front. I grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt and ran away.

The pants were long on me, as were the sleeves of the arms. I rolled them up and hoped this area of the country was poor enough that ill-fitting clothes wouldn't look too out of place. I concocted a story in my head about something big and scary breaking into my house for food in the night, my parents being killed trying to fight it off, and me snatching the nearest outdoorsy clothes (my father's) and making a run for it.

That story was going to be a lot more plausible if I had shoes. I went back to the house. I heard the woman's voice from a distance. My theft had been noticed. I waited until it seemed to be on the other side of the house, then darted in to check the backyard. The kid's shoes, all sopping wet, lay abandoned on the back porch. My small feet and his big ones matched each other not perfectly, but well enough. If I put them on right before interacting with a person, I could avoid limping. I hoped she wasn't too frightened. Surely she would realize from what had been stolen that it was only some desperate person who needed clothes?

I returned to the place where I had changed and wondered what to do with my old clothes. I didn't want to leave my clothes around to be destroyed, or worse, found. But I couldn't carry them with me. I decided to head downstream and find a settlement. As soon as I detected a settlement, I would bury my clothes under something recognizable. Hopefully I could come back for them later.

That was exactly what I did. It was a small settlement. I saw some small plots of land around a bunch of buildings. It was a nice little thing carved out of the forest. I buried my clothes and sighed in relief. Then I rinsed my feet in the stream and put the shoes on, rubbed some dirt into the ends of my cuffs, and brought to mind all the reasons I had to panic. It would be easy to sell my story if I needed to. I was afraid and running from great danger - just not the kind with teeth.

I ran up to the nearest door and knocked. It was easy to look panicked when I was in fact super anxious about whether I'd understood the culture right. Was knocking on random doors for help a thing, or was I going to get laughed at and tossed out? I shivered as the door opened. "E-excuse me. I… I - do you have any food? I'm sorry! I just…" I was totally screwing it up! Anyone born and raised in this world would know how to ask for help! But I'd never asked for help in my life. I was raised in such a way that I struggled to accept help when offered, and never thought about asking for it unless something prompted me to. I was going to have to get over that, and fast.

The man who opened the door, when I stopped trying to speak and made myself look up at him, seemed concerned. He glanced behind me. "Come inside," he said.

"Thank you." I went inside, into his kitchen. I found a chair and sat in it, folding my hands in my lap and making myself as small and nonthreatening as possible. "Thank you again, sir." I waited. I knew not to volunteer more than I had to. I would only answer the questions he asked me, and no others.

"Was something chasing you?"

"I don't think there was anything right at that moment, no."

He looked me over. He didn't say anything immediately. The silence was too much. I had to speak. "Do you need help with anything?" I asked. "I'm sorry for interrupting your day like this…"

He continued to stare at me. I tried to look at his face to see what exactly he was looking at, but couldn't. Faces are too distracting to look at most of the time, and fear was already scattering my mind. I couldn't catch more than very brief glimpses. "I'll get ya something to eat," he finally said. He brought me some cheese. I ate it very gratefully.

"If you don't, do you know someone who does need help?" I asked. "I think I'd like to stay here for a while."

"I might have something for ya," he replied. "I live alone, enjoying the quiet life. I need someone to run my things to and from town, carry the occasional message, do chores."

I nodded vigorously. "Moving things from one place to another is my favorite activity, sir. I'm also very good at being quiet." I noticed I was rocking back and forth in my seat and made myself stop. That could wait until after I'd won them over.

"Do you know how to cook?"

"I can follow directions, but I don't have many recipes memorized. I can cook anything you would describe as a slab of meat."

He grunted. "Get up, then."

.

I spent the rest of that day familiarizing myself with his house and lands the hard way. In the process, I made myself look suspicious as all heck. No knowledge of gardening. Obviously unpracticed with wielding any farm implement. He didn't say a word, but I spent at least half the time blushing from my obvious ineptitude.

His not saying anything allowed me to think as I worked. He hadn't asked my name. When he did, what would I tell him? I could give him my real name, or… I grinned. This could be the first time in my entire life that somebody I knew in person called me by my preferred name. It would sound so strange, at least at first. Would I ever get used to it?

"What're you smiling about, girl?"

"I'm happy to be here. This is such an improvement, you have no idea."

Considering that my stomach was snarling at me and my lack of muscular strength was showing, that probably meant something. I finished tilling the small part of his garden he had asked me to work and waited for a new assignment. He took me inside to polish tools. It was a lot of fun, though I had to hold my breath as much as I could to avoid the smell.

At sunset, he took me back inside. He fed me a slice of pie and more cheese. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. When we were done eating, he asked, "What's yer name?"

"Ama." I smiled. What a new experience!

"Well, Ama, you're as good as your word. I'll make a bed out of some blankets for ya. In the morning, you'll get a real breakfast."

"Thank you so very much."

He seemed to have more to say, but didn't say any of it. I stood aside while he made a bed out of blankets, got in as soon as it was done, and lay there. What else would I do? Fall asleep immediately from hard physical labor? Haha, no, my brain wasn't done yet.

On some level, I still hadn't come to grips with what was happening. Was it real? I would do whatever I needed to just in case it was, but was it? Was I dreaming? I'd had vivid dreams before, though never lucid ones where I was aware that I could be dreaming. Was it real? Was it all real? Was I in a different world from the one I'd lived in all my life? I did an excellent job of acting as if that was the case, but I couldn't really believe it. That just didn't happen. Not outside of fiction. Between the excitement of seeing what a real farmer's breakfast was like and fear that the concepts I understood so well as concepts might have become real, it took me a long time to get to sleep.

Then I was woken up super early in the morning. I sat up and waited. He knelt down and put some clothes in my lap. "Borrowed from a neighbor's son. Thought they'd fit you better. Unless you'd prefer a dress."

I shook my head. No dresses. I picked up my authentic farmer's clothing and waited for him to leave the room, which he did quickly. I changed into them. As expected, they fit better. I looked at the kid's shoes and hoped I wouldn't have to wear them ever again. Thankfully, he had allowed me to be barefoot while doing chores the previous day. My feet still hurt from being scratched up.

I went into the kitchen, where he had breakfast half made. I ate the portion size that I was used to and felt full. He shook his head. "You won't last two hours on that." I tried to eat more, but every bite was a struggle. I had never eaten a truly enormous amount of food all at once before. My family boxed everything for later snacking. It looked like snacking wasn't going to be a thing anymore.

I shook my head. No more. He got out some boxes and put the food into them. That was going to be my lunch. Would I have a lunch? He had to give me one, or I wouldn't be able to work. But lunch was very far away, since the sun was only just beginning to rise…

Let's just say my stubborn inability to quit anything I have promised to do no matter how painful it gets came in handy.

He made food for me at lunch in addition to my saved breakfast. I was able to finish the remains of breakfast and eat some of the new food, too. I knew by now that I was very lucky to have found someone who prized discretion. I handled farm tools like I'd never seen anyone use them before, my feet got scratched too easily, I couldn't eat a farmer's breakfast, I didn't know anything about his profession. In a world like this one, someone with absolutely no knowledge or experience farming would be very, very rare. I wondered who he thought I was. Probably someone noble, on the run from assassins. Could I pass for a princess? I wouldn't dare try, but could I?

After lunch, he told me, "Time you saw town." He brought me shoes that matched my borrowed outfit. He went into his bedroom and came out with a letter and a package. Then he took down a leathery satchel hanging from a hook in the kitchen and placed it on the table. "Deliver this letter to Mr. Jammit. He's out the door, down the road, first right. Can't miss the sound of hammering and swearing. Tell him Hermit Murray sent you."

I looked up at him in astonishment. A real life hermit! Wow! I got a clear look at his face for the first time. He had a scruffy, short, hacked-at beard all around his jawline. It was brown streaked with white, just like his thick hair, and he had lots of lines on his face. He looked like he was in his 50s or 60s, or 70s, or 40s… I'd heard conflicting descriptions of how hard labor could affect apparent aging. But he was definitely middle-aged.

"Yes, I'm aware of my nickname." He smiled a little. "Take the package to Mrs. Nimp. You'll have to visit the Rose post first to get the package approved. It's right next to the grocery, which is where you'll be shopping." He took a list from his pocket and put it in the satchel along with some money, all while telling me, "Mrs. Nimp is the kooky lady with the horse skeleton on her front porch. Opposite end of town. You can ask anyone, they'll know."

I picked up the satchel and looked at the list. I knew what everything on it was. I put the list, the letter and the package in the satchel and slung it over my shoulder. As I put my new shoes on, I asked, "Is there anything…unofficial I need to know about interacting with Rose soldiers?"

"They don't give a Vurrman's hiney about their jobs. This is the worst posting any Rose member can get. Don't talk to them, or they'll take it out on you. Just let them scan it and move on."

I nodded. "Understood. If there's nothing more…" I turned my body partly away to signal readiness to leave.

"Don' think there is."

I nodded again and left. The door that led straight into his kitchen was the back door. I'd never used the front door. I walked out and down the road, like I had every right to be doing so. I took the first right and followed the sound of cursing to Mr. Jammit's place. He was sawing, not hammering. He was a carpenter. I knocked on the inner frame of his garage slash woodshop. Maybe just woodshop, since there was nothing to garage in this world.

He glanced up at me and stopped his oddly affectionate cursing midword. "Who are you?"

"Hermit Murray sent me. I have a letter from him. And yes, he's aware of his nickname." I held the letter out.

Mr. Jammit's eyebrows rose. He was a great deal younger than Hermit Murray, with solidly black hair. "That burned piece of jerky sent you?" He took the letter. "Pigs do learn necromancy."

I smiled. That must have been their equivalent of pigs flying, since flying livestock wouldn't be at all strange in this world. "You never know what's possible. Have a good day, Mr. Jammit." I turned and headed for the center of town.

It didn't take long to find the grocery. There were lots of people around it, mainly children. I kept a hand on the satchel as I passed. The Rose post was hardly more than two soldiers, one of whom kept a lookout and the other of whom sat next to an orb. They both looked deeply unhappy. The one on lookout turned to me. I gave him the package. He inspected it, then handed it to the other guy, who held it in front of the orb. The orb told him there was no magical contraband inside. He handed it back to the lookout, who handed it back to me. I turned and continued on my way.

I spotted the horse skeleton when I approached the one house that was painted bright green. It was a nice shade of green. I smiled as I climbed onto the porch. A bell hung next to the door. I rang it and wondered if doorbells were a common thing in this world.

Mrs. Nimp opened the door. "A fortune, a fortune for every -" She stared at me. "You're new here."

"Yes indeedy, I am. Hermit Murray asked me to deliver a package."

"Do people go around ringing doorbells all day where you're from?"

"Not all day, but yes." I held out the package.

She adjusted her glasses and peered at me. She looked about Hermit Murray's age: not as wrinkled, but with similar hair. I wondered if they were courting. She took the package without a word. Definitely kindred spirits! "Good day, ma'am," I said with a slight bow. I turned and went back to the grocery.

The money went straight into a pocket of my new pants, the pocket the satchel was on top of. I consulted the list before entering the ring of people. The grocery was open on all sides, with three men keeping watch over the produce and one woman on the inside, taking money and keeping records. A family business.

I went for the onions first. That corner of the grocery was watched over by a young man. He jerked upright as I approached. "He-hello there! Morden's Family Grocery!" I nodded and looked over the onions. The list specified "sprouting" onions. Was Hermit Murray being gracious by taking all the oldest ones before they had to be tossed? I liked him more and more.

"I've never seen you before," the young man said.

"I'm newly arrived. Hermit Murray took me in, on the condition that I do all of his chores and don't talk much." I selected three sprouting onions and checked the list for other things in this same area.

"Oh. Um…"

"Timmy!" a grown man, I assumed his father, barked. "Focus!" This put the attention of the entire market on us. On me. I checked, and saw one of the Rose soldiers peeking around the side of his post.

One other thing on the list was in Timmy's area. I went over to that bin, checked for ones that were on their way out, put them into the satchel and moved on. I ignored Timmy, ignored everyone's eyes. Nothing to see here. I still heard whispers, of course. "She's new!" "Look at her. He doesn't have a chance." "Where'd she come from?" "No idea." "Think she's single?" The last, I was pretty sure, was said by Timmy's brother. I decided to go to their father's section of the grocery next.

My strategy worked. Nobody said anything to my face. I was able to do my shopping, hand over the money, and exit easily. I went straight back to Hermit Murray's house, perhaps a little faster than normal.

He was nowhere obvious. A busy farmer slash whatever else he was, lots to tend to, probably occupied right now. I wouldn't disturb him. I placed the satchel on the kitchen table and the list next to it, the little bit of change I'd gotten on top of the list. I looked around. Now what? I opened the cabinet next to the hook and took out cleaning supplies: wood polish and the polishing rag. He'd showed me how to polish the kitchen table the day before, so now I did the same for all the cabinets.

Hermit Murray came in through the back door as I was finishing the second to last one. "Got everything?"

"Yes. There was a little commotion at the grocery - lots of people saw that I was new. I saw a Rose soldier peeking in."

He grunted. "Got something for you to clean."

"There's one more cabinet left. Can I finish that first?"

He grunted again. It sounded like an affirmative grunt. I polished the last cabinet quickly, then followed him out to the back porch. I blinked when I saw what he wanted me to clean. Knives, smeared with blood. It was still wet. I snapped to attention immediately and looked around for a cloth to clean them with.

"What do you know about knives?"

"Blood, if it sits, can dull their edge. I need to clean that quickly." I learned that from an episode of Naruto.

He handed me something from his belt. I picked the first knife up gently by its handle and cleaned it the same way I washed knives as part of the dishes back home: widthwise, from one side to another, working my way down to the point. These were not kitchen knives; they were not meant for slicing, so the only really dangerous part was the point. I still paid close attention to each side out of habit and made sure the cloth covered my hand.

"Yer used to slicing knives."

"Yep." Since the knife didn't have one slicing edge, both sides of it were equally tapered. I had to clean it from the midline of the blade outward, and do so twice. When that was done and the surface looked free of blood, I pinched the edge of the blade with the cloth and ran it up and down. Same for the other side. I did the point last.

He watched me clean the second knife the same way. Then he asked, "Know anything about using them?"

"Enough."

It didn't occur to me until later that night, as I was going to bed, how my answer could be misinterpreted. But I didn't want to disturb him then. I decided to wait until the next day.

.

The next day, I woke up on my own. The sun was just starting to shine through the windows. I went to the kitchen and found the table covered with boxes. They were the same kind as he had used before to box up leftovers. A note was pinned beneath one of them. It read, Catching up on lost business. Beneath that was a list of chores. Some of them involved visiting people in town, with no directions given. I grinned. He trusted me! My chance to prove myself! My grin faded. No chance to tell him I was not a fighter. I resolved to tell him later.

As usual, I forgot all about my resolution.