Things were somewhat back to normal. Mother made things for me, and taught me new things, things about this world, and for the first time we were having conversations and every now and then, I would slip up and speak fluently. Weirdly mother didn’t seem to be spooked and probably thought I was some sort of a genius. Or maybe she had a screw lose… not that I minded.

She didn’t teach me any magic or fighting or anything. Then again, I didn’t know if she knew magic to begin with, and I was just a tad over two… probably.

After a few weeks, she took me out for a second time. 

This time, deeper into the forest. Vines everywhere, trees growing on top of one another, fighting for dominance. We would have had a really hard time walking around. If we walked around that was. We didn’t. Or rather, mother didn’t. She carried me with one hand, as I clung to her. Basically, she just jumped from branch to branch, almost like a monkey. ‘Is this how elves traveled?’

Like monkeys?

Yeah, I could understand where that heck a strength came from. ‘Oh well.’ I stopped caring partway.

Some other southerners joined us. All six of her friends. I actually didn’t know their name aside for the Den guy. Actually, I wasn’t sure if that was his name or some title or whatever either.

Oh well. I’d eventually know their names….

Probably.

We didn’t talk on the trees, and quickly jumped around, until out of nowhere, they all just stopped. Den had raised his hand and when everyone stopped, he motioned his fingers down, in a particular direction.

I couldn’t really see well but after squinting a little too hard, I could spot something moving. Something brown. Den pulled out an arrow from his quiver and aimed. The other followed suit. But no one shot. Almost like they were waiting for Den to strike first. Mother was holding me, so she didn’t bother attempting.

Swish!

The arrow flew, blitzing through the air, digging into the unsuspecting prey. “SHIIIKKK!!” It shrieked violently, before taking in dozens of arrows and falling flat on the ground, painting it red.

We finally went down and saw it. A boar? No, a cow? Both? Shaped like a boar but also sized like a cow. Were boars always this big or were they just a tad bigger in this world? The blood kept on pouring out, clouding the area with a metallic bloody scent. They wrapped a rope around the thing’s hind legs and hoisted it up on a branch.

“This is a bit disgusting but this is how we keep ourselves fed,” Mother said.

‘And you’re showing this to a two-year-old…’ I sighed. I would have been more than freaked if I didn’t have 17 years of previous world experience.

“He’s doing way better than my Lia,” one the girls said. Same woman who wanted to introduce her daughter to me. Curly hair, somewhat darker toned skin compared to the others here. “She was screaming and crying the whole time.”

These people didn’t seem to care about skin color though, at least this group didn’t. Proof of them being good friends, I guess?

 “He’s a man,” Den said, letting out a breath as he sliced the skin off the boar with ease. His knife almost went through the boar like he was slicing butter with a warm knife. “He has to be strong.” Not just bows and arrows, these guys were proficient with knives and even swords. At least I thought those were swords hanging on their waists.

“My kid also handled it like a champ,” one of the men said, rather muscular for an elf. “He actually wanted to try himself.” He chuckled loud.

Mother’s grip tightened. She didn’t say a word but… but was she upset for some reason? I tried staring up but her chest was kind of getting in the way. Sigh.

Anyway, I tried to keep my eyes on the prey but what was I supposed learn from butchering? I’d seen it before. Countless times in my local area. I was really into muscle training and nutrition in the final days of my life. So, I made a habit of buying fresh meat from the butcher and cooking at home. I lived alone, I had basically all the time in the world to learn whatever I wanted. I never committed to doing anything though.

And… I never found the act of butchering… ok. I knew, something had to die for something else to live and I knew offering fake sympathy to things wasn’t going to work in this world. Yet… why did I felt pity for the thing?

Why did I feel… like this?

 I wasn’t sad or anything but. “Do things …really have to die, for us… to live?” I blurted out.

‘Shit that was too coherent.’

“Yes,” mother said. “That’s living. If you don’t kill, someone else will. It’s either do or die. Either kill or be killed. So never hesitate to kill if your stomach demands it. Never.”

I wanted to say some things, maybe even debate. I always loved debating for no apparent reason but I didn’t. Not because I was just a child and wasn’t supposed to have proper conversation skills (though that was one of the reasons) but because honestly, that wasn’t an argument that I could argue against. Or wanted to for that matter.

Things were somewhat back to normal. Mother made things for me, and taught me new things, things about this world, and for the first time we were having conversations and every now and then, I would slip up and speak fluently. Weirdly mother didn't seem to be spooked and probably thought I was some sort of a genius. Or maybe she had a screw lose not that I minded. She didn't teach me any magic or fighting or anything. Then again, I didn't know if she knew magic to begin with, and I was just a tad over two probably. After a few weeks, she took me out for a second time. This time, deeper into the forest. Vines everywhere, trees growing on top of one another, fighting for dominance. We would have had a really hard time walking around. If we walked around that was. We didn't. Or rather, mother didn't. She carried me with one hand, as I clung to her. Basically, she just jumped from branch to branch, almost like a monkey. Is this how elves traveled?' Like monkeys? Yeah, I could understand where that heck a strength came from. Oh well.' I stopped caring partway. Some other southerners joined us. All six of her friends. I actually didn't know their name aside for the Den guy. Actually, I wasn't sure if that was his name or some title or whatever either. Oh well. I'd eventually know their names. Probably. We didn't talk on the trees, and quickly jumped around, until out of nowhere, they all just stopped. Den had raised his hand and when everyone stopped, he motioned his fingers down, in a particular direction. I couldn't really see well but after squinting a little too hard, I could spot something moving. Something brown. Den pulled out an arrow from his quiver and aimed. The other followed suit. But no one shot. Almost like they were waiting for Den to strike first. Mother was holding me, so she didn't bother attempting. Swish! The arrow flew, blitzing through the air, digging into the unsuspecting prey. SHIIIKKK!! It shrieked violently, before taking in dozens of arrows and falling flat on the ground, painting it red. We finally went down and saw it. A boar? No, a cow? Both? Shaped like a boar but also sized like a cow. Were boars always this big or were they just a tad bigger in this world? The blood kept on pouring out, clouding the area with a metallic bloody scent. They wrapped a rope around the thing's hind legs and hoisted it up on a branch. This is a bit disgusting but this is how we keep ourselves fed, Mother said. And you're showing this to a two-year-old' I sighed. I would have been more than freaked if I didn't have 17 years of previous world experience. He's doing way better than my Lia, one the girls said. Same woman who wanted to introduce her daughter to me. Curly hair, somewhat darker toned skin compared to the others here. She was screaming and crying the whole time. These people didn't seem to care about skin color though, at least this group didn't. Proof of them being good friends, I guess? He's a man, Den said, letting out a breath as he sliced the skin off the boar with ease. His knife almost went through the boar like he was slicing butter with a warm knife. He has to be strong. Not just bows and arrows, these guys were proficient with knives and even swords. At least I thought those were swords hanging on their waists. My kid also handled it like a champ, one of the men said, rather muscular for an elf. He actually wanted to try himself. He chuckled loud. Mother's grip tightened. She didn't say a word but but was she upset for some reason? I tried staring up but her chest was kind of getting in the way. Sigh. Anyway, I tried to keep my eyes on the prey but what was I supposed learn from butchering? I'd seen it before. Countless times in my local area. I was really into muscle training and nutrition in the final days of my life. So, I made a habit of buying fresh meat from the butcher and cooking at home. I lived alone, I had basically all the time in the world to learn whatever I wanted. I never committed to doing anything though. And I never found the act of butchering ok. I knew, something had to die for something else to live and I knew offering fake sympathy to things wasn't going to work in this world. Yet why did I felt pity for the thing? Why did I feel like this? I wasn't sad or anything but. Do things really have to die, for us to live? I blurted out. Shit that was too coherent.' Yes, mother said. That's living. If you don't kill, someone else will. It's either do or die. Either kill or be killed. So never hesitate to kill if your stomach demands it. Never. I wanted to say some things, maybe even debate. I always loved debating for no apparent reason but I didn't. Not because I was just a child and wasn't supposed to have proper conversation skills though that was one of the reasons but because honestly, that wasn't an argument that I could argue against. Or wanted to for that matter.