Growl

I awoke to find myself still terribly sore, but at least no longer tired. The lamp was still going, but I could see that the oil pan was near empty, which meant that close to seven hours had passed. I pressed my ear to the door and heard nothing but the faint whistle of the moving air. I re-filled the lamp and helped myself to more hardtack and jerky. The spice of hunger still made them fairly tasty, but with every bite the allure faded a little bit more, until the last few bites revealed them to be the salty, barely edible fare I’d always known them to be.

Amparo woke up not too long after and she also helped herself to a bit of breakfast while I went over our circumstances. We were trapped, in a pit filled with man-eating monsters, with limited supplies, an imperfect defense, and no help likely coming our way. Indeed, I was afraid that if that woman or anyone else from here appeared, they would kill us.

"I think we'll have to leave soon." I concluded, and I saw the grogginess flee from Amparo’s face, replaced with dread.

"I knew that time would come. This room won’t be safe forever." She said, looking at the door. "When shall we leave?"

"As soon as possible." I said, "We need to prepare food, water, fuel for the lamp, blankets, backpacks, tools… Do you have a weapon?"

"When I first got here I got bored and made a sling." She said, drawing it from the bib pocket of her shortall. "The only other thing I could find was a knife. I’m not confident with it, but I’m a pretty good shot with a sling."

"A sling would be helpful, even if we can’t see, but in the tighter confines it’ll be hard to use." I mused, "Do you know how to fight with the knife?"

"A little. A neighborhood uncle taught me a little on how to defend myself."

"Good. Could you make me another sling? While you do that, I want to dig through the crates and chests to see if there’s anything else we can use."

"Sure, but let me tell you what I’ve found so far, it’ll save you the time of actually looking."

She walked through what every crate, chest, and barrel had. The most useful things she identified for me were a backpack, a satchel, healers kits and a set of climbing tools, and a crowbar. We decided that she would handle the backpack, while I would carry the satchel, which was less cumbersome. I gathered everything we needed and began packing while she started making the sling, using a combination of a chopped up leather belt and some rope.

While we packed, Aoxana began to fill the conversation with small talk. She told me about her village and her family. A normal mother, father, two older brothers, one younger brother, and a grand uncle lived with them. They ran a relatively prosperous potters workshop that sold to passing traders and the general inhabitants of the village. She had been working with clay all her life, but never showed the same gifts at pottery as her eldest and youngest brothers. She also wasn’t skilled at painting the pottery as her second eldest, who was a painter. Although she didn’t mention it, I could tell that she was concerned over how she didn’t fit in with her family of artisans.

"All I know is that I’m good at hitting things with a sling. I liked sneaking out into the forests foraging and hunting for small game. Maybe I was born to be a hunter or a ranger." She mused, standing up and stretching. "I would’ve been a clan first, someone who wasn’t born to be an artisan."

"Maybe your class is something like a skirmisher." I countered, and she frowned at that, "That would also be a family first."

"No, I don’t think it is. I just have a feeling in my gut that it isn’t." She sighed. "Do you remember how you felt before you knew what your class was?"

I paused to think, wondering how much or how little to say. I wasn’t about to tell this girl, a complete stranger, that I was reincarnated in this hellhole. "I don’t remember anything at all. I already knew what my class was the moment I woke up."

"How mysterious. Classes are mysterious, aren’t they? You’re just born knowing and understanding things, and they’re so innate that you take it for granted, like walking and talking." She said, suddenly looking very concerned. "You’ve been very honest with me about not remembering and that you’re a slave. Can I be honest with you?"

"Go ahead." I said, stopping to let her talk.

"When I arrived, the Bishop actually gave me a baptism, but I didn’t believe them because I didn’t think that they were real Katharoi."

"So you do know what your class is?"

"As I said, I didn’t take them seriously because I don’t think they’re real priests, but they told me that my class was ‘Krypteia.’ Do you know what that means?"

"Krypteia." I said, letting the word roll around in my mouth. It was a foreign, literally greek sounding name to me. But it sounded strangely familiar. "No, I am sorry, but I do not recognize it. Do people often get classes that no one knows about?"

"They’re rare, but not unknown." She said, looking disappointed.

"When that zombie attacked you, did you think you could win?" I asked, "Because the moment I laid eyes on it, I knew I could win. Easily, even."

"I don’t know. At the time I was so terrified that I could only run. But when I fled and hid myself in here, I gradually began to wonder why I was hiding. I thought that maybe I could win."

"That sounds like me, but different. Since you have such mixed feelings about it, I don’t know if you have the same sense for danger that I do."

I realized then why she was so adamant that she was not a “chosen one.” She wished to simply be a normal girl and fit in with the rest of her family. Indeed, not only was she gentle, but she was peaceful. Not like me, who grew up in a time of violence and instability, and enjoyed hyper-violent media for entertainment. But her circumstances gave me a potential insight as to why we were here. We both had unique classes, and I intimately knew that my class was built for murder, but was hers? I had the sneaking suspicion that it was a class for fighting.

"If you and I are down here, maybe there are others like us." I said, changing the subject as I resumed packing. "If we’re lucky, we’ll run into people to be our allies. Once we get out, what will you do?"

"I want to look for my family. We were separated during the attack. I don’t know how many, if any, made it, but I still want to search." She said, handing over the finished sling. "Give it a spin."

"The room is a little too cramped for that." I said, looking it over before stowing it in my satchel. "But it looks good. I don’t think I’ll need to test it."

"I am honored by your trust in my craftsmanship." She gave a small nod, "What about you, what will you do once we get out?"

"I don’t know. I don’t remember anything. Is there a way to remove the slave mark?"

Amparos gave a shrug, "You could come along with me and we could look into it together while we look for my family."

"That sounds fine to me." I said, cramming the last of the supplies into the backpack and handing it to her.

She gave it a test, struggling a little to lift it, but finding it agreeable once it was riding on her shoulders. "How did you pick it up so easily? Oh wait, you’re a bear."

"Growl." I said as I started packing my satchel.