The flickering fire cast long shadows across the clearing as Alrik stepped into the circle of warmth. Half a dozen beastfolk—furred, tailed, and armed—stood or sat around the flames. In an instant, all of them sprang to attention. Spears were lifted, blades unsheathed, and Alrik froze with both hands in the air.

Erynne ducked lower behind the bush, her heart hammering in her ears.

“Hey,” Alrik said, trying to sound calm. “Uh. We come in peace? Definitely not here to steal anything.”

The group didn’t lower their weapons. Their gazes swept over him—his hoodie, his pajama pants, his general lack of preparedness. He clearly wasn’t what they’d expected.

One of them—the large man with wolf features—sniffed the air.

“He doesn’t smell like this world,” he rumbled.

A fox-eared woman with bright orange fur and too many knives cocked her head. “He’s been summoned.”

Alrik blinked. “I have? I mean. Yeah. We have. Just happened. No gear. No clue. And definitely no idea where we're supposed to be.”

Erynne watched as murmurs passed between the beastfolk. One of them—a short figure with deer-like features—stood protectively near a spear planted in the ground, while the others slowly relaxed their posture.“

Summoned ones don’t usually appear this far from the capital,” the fox-woman said, narrowing her eyes. “You were dropped.”

Alrik shrugged helplessly. “Guess we missed the welcome parade.”

The wolf grunted again. “Got a name, stranger?”

“Alrik,” he said. “And my sister’s, Erynne—she's back there behind the bush. We’re new. Like, just-fought-our-first-monster new. And, uh, we brought meat?”

At the word “meat,” several ears perked up.

Erynne stepped cautiously into the firelight, holding the Sporefang boar meat like it might bite her. The beastfolk turned to look at her, several of them tensing again.

One of the younger-looking ones bared their teeth.

“She’s human,” someone muttered.

The wolf-man held up a hand. “So is he. But they don’t smell like the others.”

The fox-woman’s expression sharpened. “Most humans wouldn’t dare walk into our camp. They’d call us monsters. Attack us on sight.”

The world felt like it froze. Her bunny-print pajama pants rustled in the evening breeze.

“This is going to sound weird,” she said, “but we’re just trying to survive the night. We don’t want trouble. We fought a giant boar that tried to kill us. We brought part of it in case we could trade.”

The wolf beastfolk stepped forward and sniffed the offering. His eyes narrowed in thought, then softened with what might’ve been approval.

“Sporefang,” he said. “High-level. Cooked right, that’ll feed a camp.”

“Cooked wrong?” Alrik asked.

“It’ll feed a grave.”

“Noted.”

The fox-woman smirked. “We’ll trade. Meat for a hot meal and a place by the fire.”

Alrik glanced at Erynne, who gave a tired but affirmative nod. She stepped forward and handed over the bundle of meat like it was a sacred offering.

“Deal,” he said.

The wolf-man took it carefully, nodding once. “Fair trade.”

One of the younger beastfolk, a lean dog-eared teen with a chipped tooth and nervous energy, darted off toward one of the shacks and returned a moment later with two bedrolls tucked under one arm. He laid them out a few feet from the fire, close enough for warmth but just far enough for cautious hospitality.

A few others moved to prep the meat while bowls were passed around. The tension lingered, but it was no longer pointed at their throats.

No one said the words, but something in the air shifted. Blades slid back into sheaths. Tension untangled, just slightly. A gap opened near the fire—an invitation without fanfare.

Erynne and Alrik eased into the space, sitting cross-legged on the packed earth. Across from them, the wolf-man met their gaze and gave a single nod.

“Tovik.”

The fox-woman twirled a knife before flipping it back into her belt. “Luma.”

The last, a soft-spoken woman with long green hair woven through with tiny white blossoms, inclined her head. Her antlers curved like polished branches. “Fauna.”

Erynne took a slow bite, the heat spreading through her chest. The stew was simple. It didn’t explode, which was a plus. It was also, she realized, kind of bland. Not bad, exactly, just... plain. It tasted like survival, though the warmth was still comforting.

Especially because, just hours ago she'd been curled up in her bed, cats piled on her feet, watching Alrik stream another boss fight. Now she was sharing a fire with people she'd only ever seen in fantasy novels—beastfolk who’d nearly skewered her brother on sight.

She wasn’t sure if she was exhausted, enchanted, or on the verge of hysterics. Maybe all three. But for now, the food was real, and the moment was strangely peaceful.

Tovik stirred his bowl. “So. Summoned, huh?”

“Yep,” Alrik said between bites. “Poof. One second we were at home, the next we were kissing dirt.”

“You’re lucky,” Luma said. “Summoned ones usually go to the humans. The capital. Gear, escorts. Prophecy nonsense.”

“Yeah, we skipped the tutorial,” Alrik said. “And the starter weapons.”

Erynne yawned behind her bowl. “And the pants.”

Luma’s eyes sparkled. “You are underdressed for prophecy.”

As the laughter subsided, Erynne blinked at the firelight, still trying to process how casually everyone was treating their arrival. Apparently, being summoned from another world wasn’t just possible—it was normal here.

But if that was true, why had they landed in the middle of nowhere? No summoner, no grand prophecy, no royal welcome. Just dirt and danger. Maybe there’d been a glitch in the magic. A hiccup in whatever spell had yanked them across worlds.

She glanced at Alrik. He looked right at home with a bowl in his lap and dirt on his hoodie. Figures.

“Why out here?” Erynne asked after a pause. “Why aren’t you sleeping in your homes?”

She looked around for the first time with clearer eyes. The village—if it could be called that—was little more than a cluster of rough wooden shacks nestled against the treeline. Everything looked handmade, functional, and weather-worn.

Tovik’s jaw tightened. “There’s been danger. Things creeping close that shouldn’t. We keep a watch, now.”

She nodded and finished her stew. The warmth in her stomach was starting to tug her down, making her eyelids heavy. She caught herself slow-blinking through conversations, bits and pieces of words drifting past her.

Soon, she was curled in a rough bedroll. The voices around the fire began to blur, fading into the background.

She was halfway asleep when she heard Alrik’s voice, quiet but curious.

“Hey... what can you tell me about Classes in this world?”

TO BE CONTINUED...