Chapter 12: Unexpected Encounter

The next morning, she woke up freezing—again—her body covered in bruises. Beneath the tarp, the damp air clung to her skin, and the sunlight filtering through cast bluish hues over everything. She pushed the canvas aside with a still-sleepy motion and was hit full force by the icy bite of morning—not to mention the blinding glare reflecting off the snow. It must have been even colder than the day before, because this time, the snow had managed to seep beneath her shelter. She was literally covered in it. And to make matters worse, it was still snowing.

Far from complaining—she knew it could have been much worse—she shivered and scanned her surroundings. Nothing to report among the trees… unlike the plain. Out there, to her surprise, she spotted three orcs. From the direction she had come, of course. At that distance, they would reach her position in twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Except…

A predatory smile stretched across her lips.

They would never make it to her.

She targeted the one at the back of the line. With a bit of luck, the other two wouldn’t turn around.

"Drain," she whispered.

The orc collapsed into the snow. The white blanket muffled his fall, silencing any sound that might have alerted the others. The two in front kept walking, unaware.

Intelligence +2

Without moving, she waited, counting the seconds. No point going down now—one danger at a time was more than enough. Suddenly, she felt her perception sharpen, as if everything around her had gained clarity.

"Intelligence"… she muttered, frowning as she kept her eyes on the orcs. Looks like it’s an intuitive stat.

She scanned the area again, now certain it was still early morning. She had the rest of the morning to complete the twenty-four-hour mission. Thinking back, she estimated she had spent nearly ten hours walking and climbing the day before. No wonder her body was begging for mercy.

Damn. Getting down from this tree was going to hurt.

The orcs eventually turned, confused not to see their companion anymore. Five minutes passed. Then a few seconds more.

A second one dropped.

This time, it was the one in front. The last one, startled, rushed toward his fallen companion.

Speed +2

Blanche watched the final survivor, clearly panicking. In his place, she wouldn’t feel too confident either. He broke into a run toward the forest—straight toward her—but even running, it would take him at least ten minutes to reach her. A smile bloomed on her face.

He would never make it.

And indeed, he soon collapsed.

Wisdom +2

One problem solved. She immediately resumed scouting: thanks to her new stats, she spotted, through the branches, the glimmer of a stream a few kilometers to the north. As she packed up her rope and gear, she couldn’t help but feel that this was… a little too easy. Which instantly made her tense.

She took her time preparing her bag before starting the descent. It was far worse than the climb. She had tossed her bag down earlier—it rested in the thick snow, barely sunk in. The idea of jumping crossed her mind. But dying stupidly five meters above the ground, after everything she’d been through? No thanks.

Her soaked clothes and frozen hands got the better of her: her fingers slipped three meters above the ground. She crashed into the snow near her bag and axe, banging her arm against a branch on the way down.

Wind knocked out of her, she stayed stunned for a moment, then staggered back up. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but her arm still moved. Just a nasty scrape.

Could have been worse. In the end, she was almost glad she hadn’t jumped. With her luck, she’d probably have impaled herself on her own axe.

But the next surprise froze her in place.

Just centimeters from her face, an animal stared at her: a gray wolf with amber eyes, its fangs still stained with blood. Large, lean, muscular. Impressive.

Blanche had clearly interrupted its meal. It watched her without hostility, but instinct took over—she was about to cast her spell when Fenrir’s deep voice echoed in her mind.

No.

She swallowed and obeyed, staying perfectly still, trusting her god. The wolf eventually looked away and calmly resumed its meal. Its “leftovers” from the day before.

With extreme caution, she gathered her belongings and backed away. The animal didn’t move.

An hour later, she reached the stream. Thirsty, she dropped her bag, scalpel in hand, and bent down to drink. The icy water burned her throat but brought her back to life. She drank as much as she could—no telling when she’d get another chance. Then she rinsed her face. A proper shower wouldn’t have hurt.

And after drinking that much… she had to step aside for obvious reasons. Not glamorous, but necessary.

A few minutes later, she lit a fire near the stream. She absolutely had to dry her clothes or she’d freeze despite the winter sun. And since she had water, she might as well clean herself a bit—whether Fenrir was watching or not, too bad. The itching was becoming unbearable.

She used her rope to hang her blankets, limiting her field of vision but letting them warm by the fire. Then she stripped off her soaked clothes, spread them out nearby, and cut a piece of her scarf to make a makeshift sponge. Sitting on a rock, she dipped it in water and washed herself as best she could.

Half an hour? An hour before the mission ended? Not the time to linger naked and vulnerable.

But of course, things had to go wrong.

She slipped on a rock and fell straight into the water.

"Argh!"

The cold bit into her skin. She scrambled back up, drenched, hair plastered to her face, knees scraped. Real classy. She crawled back to shore, cutting her foot on a sharp stone along the way.

Shivering, she returned to the fire, pulling on her still-damp but warm clothes. She treated the cut with what she had, improvised a bandage with gauze and her scarf, then put her socks and shoes back on.

A bit warmer, she wrapped herself in a dry blanket. The heat enveloped her, and she sighed in relief.

That’s when she heard it.

A bestial roar. Then something burst through, slamming into her last stretched blanket and sending it flying. A massive orc charged in, weapon raised. Her axe was two meters away—too far. Panic. She drew her scalpel… then remembered her spell.

"Drain!"

The orc collapsed instantly at her feet.

Except another one was already behind him. Too surprised to react, he stared at her, stunned. She didn’t hesitate.

Agility +1

Speed +1

She ran, breath short, her injured foot throbbing with every step. Endurance clearly wasn’t her strong suit. Orc shouts echoed through the forest, birds scattering in alarm. She stopped, gasping, not knowing where she was.

A howl tore through the silence. A wolf? No time to think—the orc burst out behind her. She ran again.

"Drain! " she shouted.

Nothing.

Oh shit.

Her foot screamed in pain, but she gritted her teeth. No choice. The orc caught up, grabbing her shoulder and slamming her to the ground. His axe rose with a whistle. She had just enough breath to whisper:

"Flight!"

She lifted a meter into the air, barely avoiding the blade. The orc froze, incredulous—then burst into a harsh, horrible laugh.

It gave her the seconds she needed.

"Drain!"

The monster collapsed, frozen mid-motion, axe still in hand. The flight spell ended, and she dropped hard onto her back—for the third time that day.

Carnage – Level 1

A new skill? Seriously?

Heart pounding, she lay there, staring at the sky. One of the suns had reached its zenith. She was exhausted.

But the forest was still restless. A bad sign.

Another one? What the hell—where were all these orcs even coming from?!