Brett woke up seeing stars as a notification shot him in the eyes. Somehow, when he slept, someone had rolled him onto his back even though his feet still stuck out the end of the tent. A warm fuzzy feeling had settled on his chest, and he felt a small breeze stirring across his face. 

To get rid of the notification, he pulled up his menu. What is it now?

There was nothing new. Desperate to remove the blinding light, Brett checked his chat history and found the message that had woken him.

Alan: Wake Ravenous up. We need to go.

Brett: Oaky

*okay

The little keyboard that popped up for him to type his message out was a little too small for his fingers. Also there was no edit button to fix his spelling errors. This was going to be embarrassing to use a lot.

He checked to see if he had anything else, but there was nothing. He hadn't been offered any classes. Not that he had really done anything worthy to get a class he would be interested in. 

Stretching slowly, he craned his neck to take a look around him. Sure enough, just as he expected, the fur ball was curled up on his chest, dozing quietly. Not wanting to disturb her, he just rubbed his face and readjusted his head before closing his eyes again for a second. He was pretty rested, maybe the extra endurance point was helping out, but he still felt a little bit mentally exhausted after the last couple of days.

Sunlight was streaming through the tent entrance and a little bit through the canvas walls. He could hear the sound of camp bustling around, but not really anyone calling to get up and head out. 

Gently he shook the fuzzy ball, who didn’t stir one bit. She actually kind of flopped around a little bit as he started shaking more vigorously. It seemed that his gentle movements had been completely unnecessary. Not needing to get dressed or anything, he simply picked her up in his arms like he would a cat and crawled out of the tent.

Standing up, he was incredibly impressed with the sleeping ability of the fuzzball in his arms. She had started to stir a little bit, but in the crook of his arm, she mostly just curled up into a tighter ball. Looking around, he found the rest of the team had pretty much packed everything up. Other than Ravenous's tent, everything was ready to head out.

Looking around for someplace to set her down, he noticed that Bernard was already in the process of dismantling her tent. 

"Don't worry about it," he said, waving Brett off in the chipper voice of a morning person. "We normally have to go pick her up and put the tent away anyways. If you're willing to just carry her for a little bit, it would greatly speed up our morning routine."

As Bernard was rolling up the tent, he added something. "Oh, if you're hungry, there's some breakfast over there," he gestured. "Usually, the smell of sausage helps wake Ravenous up, so you might want to go try that out."

Starting to walk off in that direction, he heard Bernard call out, "You might want to hurry!"

Brett walked in the direction Bernard had pointed, cradling Ravenous to his chest with his left arm. People ever so slightly moved out of his way as he walked. They were likely intimated by the sleeping furball he carried or the team she represented. 

Bernard was completely right. When he was 15 feet from the fire with a griddle cooking sausage, the ball of fur stirred, sniffed, then his arms were empty. A few seconds later, she was climbing back up his jeans with a string of half-cooked sausages dangling from her mouth. 

He offered her the same spot he had carried her over in, but she climbed past his chest and sat on his shoulder. The sausage string dangled greasily down his front. She began to eat it like a child would a fruit rollup. Strangely, as he looked at her, her eyes were still closed, as if she was still trying to sleep.

Chuckling at the situation, Brett moved to join the end of the line. Before he managed to get a few steps, he was stopped and ushered to the front, where the server hurriedly pushed a full plate into his hands. The man who had been getting his own plate filled joined in, thrusting his own meal at Brett in a rush. Slightly baffled, he carried his haul over to a table. As he sat down, Ravenous scarfed the rest of her sausages. She hopped down next to one of the plates and started with the eggs. 

About halfway through his eggs. Then he noticed that his sausages were disappearing. He switched to them before Ravenous could finish stealing them all.

Before they finished his food, he noticed that someone had joined him at the table. Glancing over, he wasn't surprised to find Alan sitting next to him. He finished chewing and greeted him. "Good morning."

The smirk that subtly flashed across Alan's face put him slightly on edge. He just nodded and motioned for him to follow him. Ravenous hopped back on his shoulder, now with her eyes open…mostly.

He looked around for something to do with the freshly polished plates, but seeing nothing, he just left them on the table. Leaving a mess would be better than making Alan wait. It took a couple of long strides before Brett was walking next to the shorter man. He was silent until they were a little way out of the camp. 

"The first thing you need to work on is getting a class. If you want to survive here for long, that is."

That was something Brett agreed with, but he really didn't want to end up with something like Petty Thief. When he said as much, Alan nodded. "That is true. But people only get those classes because they don't have the drive or will to meet the requirement for a better class."

As they crested the hill, Brett asked his next question. "How does that affect me getting a class? What do I just need to try harder?"

"Irene and Bernard have a theory that with enough stubbornness, you can show the system that you could be any class. I don't disagree, but I think it's best to get a class that at least somewhat fits you." Alan said with the longest string of words Brett had ever heard him speak. 

"How can you tell what fits you best?" Brett asked. Looking around, he realized he had left the book back in the tent. They would have to do things Alan's way. Brett supposed he understood his logic. He supposed the quiet man would have hated getting saddled with a class like Bard.

"You do what comes naturally to you. After enough time, you should be offered a class. If you like it, take it." Alan shrugged. "Not really my place, but you would probably prefer a combat class. Everything else kinda sucks."

Brett didn't have a problem with getting a combat class. In fact, he was going to insist on it. Alan was leading them over the hill, so maybe he wanted to spar to see how well he fought? He had done a little boxing and wrestling, but he wasn't some martial arts expert. He didn't want to pull his gun either.

Ravenous had been uncharacteristically quiet, and when he heard some soft snoring in his ear, he found out why. The cat-like being was fast asleep on his shoulder, clinging to his shirt with her claws. Alan reached up and plucked her off his shoulder, setting her on the ground next to a cave. "You have a knife on you?"

Brett shook his head and Alan handed him a 12-inch dagger that seemingly appeared from nowhere. It fits nicely in his hand, and if it wasn't so narrow, he might have called it a short sword. "That should do."

With those words, Alan placed his hand on his back and, with a shove, sent Brett stumbling into the cave.