A brief feeling of weightlessness hits me before something that tastes a lot like dirt hits me harder. Normally, that punch to the face is me falling out of bed, but a rumbling growl behind me jabs a spine-full of fear and adrenaline into my body as I scramble away from the noise.

  My repeated, clumsy attempts to stand are met with failure and the menacing presence behind me getting closer. I see a flashing 10% in the corner of my vision and a variety of status symbols plaguing me. I’m too busy looking for a place to hide to check what they actually mean.

  I find a large fallen log with a small opening beneath it and thank providence for my salvation. I practically dive through the opening, merely to find that the shadow on the bare ground only made it look like an earthen cave. Well, if it fooled me, then maybe it will fool the wolf too. I crouch down and move to the edge of the shadow, making it look like I’m huddled at the back of the space. It dives in and I leap back as well as I’m able, but it hits the log so hard in its attempt to get me that the tree section rocks forward, extending the reach of the beast. I feel the slicing contact ripple across the side of my chest, as though the claws were scraping directly across the bones of my ribs. A cry of pain rips through me as I roll and shuffle away. The wolf lunges again and claws my calf before I get completely clear of its reach. The log rises on the edge of its weathered perch, relieving enough pressure for the wolf to slowly force its way through the opening and beneath the heavy obstacle.

  I look around for anything that can be used as a weapon I find a couple of thick branches that broke off when the tree fell and grab the straightest one in a hopeless attempt to defend myself. When I look back, every part of the wolf has come through the opening besides its hips, which cause the wolf’s body to squeeze upward and nock the log just a little bit forward . . . and past its current balance point, where it crashes onto the back of my menacing pursuer with an audible crack.

  The wolf claws more desperately than ever, this time not for a meal but to get free.

  It’s trapped now, and I have a pointy stick. Fuck this stupid wolf and this stupid encounter. I feel an empowering anger flow from my clenched teeth to my gripping hands and lose a small bit of sense that is keeping me from taking out my fear on this now crippled predator. I stab it until it breaks my stick. I find another and get back to work. I stab at it until I get a notification that it died and then collapse in exhaustion. I land on my injured side and scream as though I am dying and pass out.

  Moments after my vision of the forest fades, I feel a shaking that lasts long enough that I feel the urge to swat at the contact location of my agitator.

  “MAUDE! She swatted at me!” I hear a delighted squeal at the end of that exclamation. Hurried footsteps can be heard in the hall before a thump of a body arresting their motion happens several steps away.

  “What do you mean she swatted you, Gertie? She’s been immobile for months.”

  A lump lands on my shoulder and starts shaking me again.

  “Quit.” I mumble and flick an arm out at the offending motion.

  “See!”

  “She talks?!”

  “Mm, loud.”

  “Look at this layabout complaining. She has been lying in bed for a year and then complains that we’re an inconvenience. How’s that for thanks, Gertie?”

  “Oh hush, you grumpy hag. I bet she doesn’t remember much after an experience like that.”

  “Mm. Wolf. Attack.” I reach to touch the gash I remember having and I can’t feel anything more than a few ridges on otherwise smooth skin.

  “We took care of that. It was a close thing, and you nearly mauled us each time we tried to clean it. We still have the straps if you decide you want to be unruly.” The voice belonging to Maude warns me.

  My thoughts continue to feel like cold mud and my throat is so dry I could drain a reservoir. I mention water and they bring me some. Once I notice my arms and legs, I struggle to push myself to a sitting position.

  “Careful now, you haven’t moved in a long time. You’re going to be very weak.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Just trying to feel everything, Gert-tee.” Sounds like my mouth is full of marbles. I run my tongue across my top teeth and find they’re not as flat as my normal teeth, but I have some cute little fang incisors. I do the same for my bottom teeth and nearly choke on my tongue when I find where my incisor, a bicuspid, and a molar would be, is now thick, round tusk? Something that feels anchored into my skull with rivets. No wonder it feels that I had marbles in my mouth.

  “Maybe you can feel your fool eyes open.”

  “Where am I? ‘Cause you two are a regular comedy troupe.”

  “Says the injured Sky Troll. How did you get to the Southern Marches with no food or equipment?” Maude asks.

  “Bad luck and a querulous goddess? Surprise murder puppy was not my idea of a good time. I had a nightmare of the incident and I can’t imagine how I survived long enough for anyone to find me.”

  “Old Jeb was on his way home with his cart-full of hay and he heard a woman’s shriek followed by a roar that he couldn’t recognize. He wanted to save the girl. Imagine his surprise when he sees a troll and screams bloody murder loud enough for the townsfolk to hear while he’s running away.”

  “Are Trolls that bad? I mean, you two don’t seem so scared of me.” I ask, quiet and nervous.

  “You are underfed and awkward as twelve elbows. You’re only libel to hurt yourself.”

  “Maude! There’s no need to be so mean to the poor dear. Can’t you see she’s sad over your mistreatment?”

  “You’re daft Gertie! The waif is blue because she’s a Sky Troll not because she’s sad!”

  I chuckle at their bickering as I try again to open up my eyes. They sound like adorable old women. I finally get tired of my unruly facial muscles and pry open an eyelid with my fingers. The light is painful so I let go and blink a lot. My face finally remembers how now that trauma has been introduced in the action. Stupid brain.

  “Do you have any skills, Troll? If we’re going to get you moving, we should work to where you can help.” Maude seems personally offended at my existence. Is there a way I can find out why?

  For common knowledge, you may query the interface with a basic slash interface prompt. If you have interface or system problems in general, just ask questions like you just did and I will answer as best I can.

  Ah, so this is what the mind reading was for. Pleased to meet you Alaris. I hear a snicker in my mind, but no response. One could hope.

  “Maude, you know that the Governor has been sending us funds since we reported a stray, injured troll. Stop grinding your axe and let us worry about helping her get around!”

  Maude gives Gertie a dead stare for maybe a minute before sighing. “Alright, fine. I’ll get you a chalk and a board and we’ll work on your coordination. You will alert us when you feel like getting up or have to go to the bathroom. Having you collapse and injure yourself would be an inconvenience.”

  I grumble inside and want to snipe back, but these two must have been keeping track of me for . . . did she say a YEAR? Is the healing house dramatic time?

  Somewhat, yes. Good to know you were listening . . . well, you don’t know, but your name is different in here. In a part I have not shared with you yet, you chose an alternate to your gaming handle. More specifically, a non-attributed name that would sound like Xansa. We found Zhantsa with both African and Asian mouth shapes.

  Zhantsa? I like the look and the sound of it. Thanks for telling me. I clearly resonate with something like it because nearly all of my game characters are based off of that woman in that medieval kingdom show.

  “I’d like to help where I can. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “Are you good at anything, is the question.”

  “How about we work on my recovery, then we try activities until I can’t do them?”

  Gertie laughs, “I like her better this way.” She reaches over to squeeze my foot and I felt it!!

  “I felt that! Should I be this excited?” They both had different reactions, but I could see how much they both they wanted me to recover even though Maude’s base program was written in Asshole++. No one in this world would enjoy that joke.

  ***

  It takes me a week to get stable on my blue bird legs. I find out that I have two front toes and a mostly vestigial thumb toe on my heel. My hand has one less finger, and my tusks are super cute even though I have a massive underbite. They just peak out from my mouth and my oversized bottom lip ensures that my mouth is still water tight despite the protrusions. Should I be as vain as I am? I was super-critical of my body in ATC, but here, I’m a skinny blue bitch with wine-dark hair and sky blue skin and if I gained a few pounds of fitness, I’d be freaking hot. My nose isn’t even stereotypical troll busted!!

  “You’ve yet to go to town and you’re already primping in the mirror.” She mutters a few more things before I get a list of things she wants me to fetch in Old Jeb’s cart. From Gertie’s tale, the old man had a bad fall off one of his horses and broke his leg. Compound fracture, and the poor bastard decided to push it back himself. He got sepsis and did not recover. He left the healing house most of his assets. Ornery fuck left me the cart he carried me in, and Maude has a laugh every time I take it to town. I wish I could say I have some counter joke, but no one in town wants to deal with a Troll.

  Just my luck, yeah? I get this super cute fantasy self, and I’m basically a plague on humanity in this world. Weee!

  Alaris, this is a what-the-fuck moment like making salmon frosting for a wedding cake.