I was woken up by my stomach, rumbling unhappily at its current low level of occupancy.

  "I did not think this through," I complained to the tree I'd climbed to sleep in. The tree didn't respond.

  As it turned out, trees made for neither good beds nor conversationalists.

  In my defence, I kinda had thought about it. I'd considered running while I was back in the village, and decided it would be both risky and unpleasant. I hadn't thought through all the details, because I'd decided against the plan before I'd got that far. And then I'd done it anyway, thanks to that bloody, pig-headed brat.

  Now my life was all details. How to sleep with knots of wood poking into your back and without falling out of a tree was a detail. So was how to poop. How to clean myself after pooping. Water, too. I'd thought a lot about food, but not so much about water.

  Worse, if I'd run straight from the village, I'd at least have had some equipment. A knife. A trowel, to bury the aforementioned excrement. A bottle or water-skin.

  Something to hold water was definitely a priority. Yes, I'd already found one small brook flowing through the forest, but that had been dumb luck. I'd just stumbled across it while heading deeper into the woods, trying to put some distance between myself and the dungeon. There was no guarantee I'd be able to find more, so a lack of means to carry water would seriously hamper how far I could range. But how was I supposed to make myself a bottle?

  There wasn't anything for it. For any hope of survival, I needed to spend the rest of my skill points on [Foraging].

  Five remaining, along with twenty stat points. Enough to raise [Foraging] to rank D, and the stat points would be best spent on Constitution. Boosting it would help me operate with less food, water and sleep, as well as helping to resist any diseases or toxins if the only water I could find was dirty. The fact that I was down eighteen points of Stamina despite just waking up only reinforced that I needed the boost.

  Thankfully, with a night's sleep between me and yesterday's splurging on Skills, spending five at once didn't leave me reeling with nausea, and caused only a mild headache. It was just a pity I'd had to blow all my skill and stat points on things that I needed rather than things I wanted. Except for the single point I'd spent on [Cooking], of course. But, aside from that one point, I'd effectively wasted everything. Wasting skill points harmed future growth. Each level required more experience than the one before, and higher skills boosted experience gain. By spreading points out between many skills, I wasn't taking best advantage of that boosted gain.

  I wanted magic. To throw fireballs around. To vaporise monsters with a wave of my hand. To click my fingers and teleport to far-off lands, sample their cuisine, and teleport back home with another snap. To fly through the air.

  Heck, even without being flashy, I'd love the ability to summon some water right now. But again, that was more of a need thing than a want.

  With a sigh, I jumped out of my tree. Discovering the ease with which I'd been able to climb it had been a pleasant surprise, Stats being useful even without Skills, but getting down was even easier. With Dexterity and Constitution over fifty, I didn't even need to roll to absorb the force of the fall.

  [Adept Foraging] pointed me at some breakfast—a variety of nuts and fruits, albeit requiring more tree-climbing to acquire—and suggested a direction to travel with a good chance of more water. It wasn't that the Skill magically knew where to find such things, but rather it took cues from the environment. The shape of leaves on a tree, identifying it as a variety that grew small, sour but edible spherical fruits. A depression in the landscape down which water would flow.

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  My parents had taught me about the System, of course. It was vital knowledge, up there with learning to talk. I knew how E-rank Skills were completely knowledge based, and could be copied by anyone with sufficient mental Stats. Skills of rank B or above bent reality in strange ways, achieving effects that were completely impossible to emulate with knowledge alone. While I knew that rank D or C occupied some odd space between the two, there was a difference between having been told it and experiencing it for myself. I knew [Adept Foraging] was picking up on the species of tree, but from eyesight alone, even from close up I could barely tell the leaves apart from another type of tree with very similar fruits, that [Adept Foraging] informed me in no uncertain terms were not edible. Presumably poisonous.

  In any case, the Skill didn't let me tell the species apart from a distance, but it did clearly let me know that one tree held edible fruits while the other did not. It was just a shame it didn't let me know what the fruits were. Certainly nothing we grew in the village. I'd never seen one before and had no idea what they were called. That didn't stop me eating six of them, though.

  Less than half that of a single horned rabbit, and it wasn't as if I could eat dozens of meals per day. Still, experience was experience, and it was a better time to experience ratio than farming.

  I needed more. I could continue fighting in a dungeon—assuming I could find one—but while my Stats had increased, I still had no Skills that were useful for combat. I still wouldn't dare to enter a dungeon above rank E. I could fight monsters outside of a dungeon, but real life didn't conveniently spawn monsters of a particular species at a fixed rate right in front of you. I could wander around this forest all day and only run into a slime. Or, conversely, I could run into an entire goblin village. Or a dragon.

  The best experience to time ratio I'd achieved had been from escaping the dungeon. It made sense, given the difficulty, that I'd fully utilised a rank C Skill, and the consequences of failure. Maybe if I did bump into a dragon, I should sneak up to it and bop its nose?

  Alas, experience points couldn't be my primary concern right now. When I'd first considered running, it was to get away from people who wanted to use me. Now I was running from the law. I had no idea whether that was better or worse, but I was pretty darn sure that there were guards in the canton that were more than capable of tracking me. A benefit of big organisations: members could spend skill points on highly specialised Skills without needing to worry about damaging their efficiency in other areas, on account of having teammates to fill the gaps.

  On the other hand, that meant that unless they sent a massive team after me, the individual members would be overspecialised. Surely I didn't warrant a huge response? I was just a kid, whatever Mark I had, and stealing a spear wasn't exactly a serious crime. Or, at least, I hoped it wasn't. If they sent anyone after me at all, a single tracker with some combat skills would make the most sense. Or a tracker and Tristan, since he knew me. Or maybe even just Tristan, if he happened to have a decent tracking Skill.

  But while I thought that was likely, it wasn't as if I knew. I'd recently got a good pile of mental Stats, but they wouldn't help if I'd never interacted with guards before. I had no experience of the town guard and how they reacted to things. I needed to behave as if an army was after me, until the point I could prove that one wasn't.

  And so I ran. Or, more accurately, jogged.

  Deeper into the forest. The trees didn't grow denser, but they did get bigger, sometimes making it a tight squeeze to push through. Hopefully that would hamper pursuers more than me, given they were likely bigger, especially if they were wearing metal armour. Or maybe they had a Skill that would let them traverse forests without impediment. As ever, it was impossible to predict.

  Thankfully, there wasn't much undergrowth, because that would have caused me more difficulty. What few bushes there were mostly seemed to grow edible berries, which I certainly wasn't going to complain about. I took a few while I ran.

  A drop in the ocean, but I wasn't going to complain. Especially since a pair of slimes were also munching on the bush. Or dissolving the bush? I wasn't quite sure what it was that slimes did.

  I also wasn't quite sure how to kill them... I had no weapons and, given the way they seemed to be dissolving any leaves they came into contact with, I didn't fancy trying to punch them. Since they seemed to be ignoring me—or, being monsters that should have attacked me on sight, more likely couldn't perceive me—I found a particularly pointy branch, snapped it from its tree, and thrust at the core of each slime. They reacted once I was within arm's reach, but that was far too late.

  That was a better amount of experience, although it did raise the interesting question as to whether someone who wasn't me would have gained twenty-six or twenty-seven points. Or maybe the System kept track of fractions and they'd get an extra point after killing five.

  Another question was how the System decided when I was done with a task. I got my experience for working in the fields when I stopped for the day, and not when, for example, I took a break for lunch. How did it know the difference? Why did I get foraging experience each time I ate, rather than at the end of the day, or when I left the forest?

  Not the most important questions in the world, but it wasn't as if I had anything else interesting to think about as I pushed onwards through the trees.

  It was actually quite scenic. If I hadn't been running for my life, I'd have enjoyed it.

  I came to a sudden stop as I stared first at the notification, and then wildly scanned around myself trying to figure out what monster it was talking about. I hadn't seen any monsters, let alone hidden from one. Yes, I was still leaning on [Expert Stealth] for all it was worth, doing my best not to leave any traces of my passing—there was no call to make the job of my pursuers easier—and not to attract attention from anyone or anything that happened to be nearby, but I hadn't been trying to hide from anything specific. Did the System not care?

  Could I use experience notifications to tell if anyone was tracking me, if my [Expert Stealth] was throwing them off?

  Or a more immediate question: was it worth finding what had just triggered my experience boost? The downside was obvious; if it was something I couldn't handle, I didn't want it noticing me. Also, the site of a fight would be an obvious sign for any pursuit. On the other hand, if it was something with claws, perhaps I could use one as a makeshift knife. Plus, if I could sneak up on it or kill it, more experience.

  Would I get a big bonus if I sneak-attacked? Only one way to find out.

  I lowered my posture, heading back the way I'd come, this time at a slower pace, sacrificing speed for volume and concealment. Checking the positioning of every footfall for traitorous twigs or crunchy leaves. Looking for signs of the monster that had triggered my unexpected experience gain.

  Drat. I'd seen nothing. Did that imply I'd gone too far, or was my prey moving? I'd only got half the experience, too...

  I moved back about halfway between the two notifications and looked around. Not spotting anything, I tried looking up, because I could climb trees, so monsters damn well could, too. Or perhaps they could outright fly. I still saw nothing, but given the leafy trees, they made for good hiding places. It was why I'd slept up one. If something was deliberately hiding, it was unlikely I'd spot it.

  That was enough. I couldn't afford to waste more time. I needed to get moving.

  Decision made, I took a step to depart, only for something to thud heavily on the ground behind me.

  Spinning around revealed a squat, humanoid monster half my height, some distance away. Brown-green skin, over-long arms, bent legs and patchy hair. It was naked except for a loincloth that seemed to be sewn from leaves.

  ... A loincloth that it suddenly pulled down, revealing details of the monster that I never, ever wanted to see. Still, it could have been worse. At least the monster wasn't facing me.

  I stared on in bemusement as a watery tinkling started up, quiet enough at the distance that I could barely hear it over the rustling of leaves in the light breeze.

  What the hell was up with my luck? The monster I'd been looking for—both of us missing each other at the distance and with us both being stealthy—had chosen right now to leave its hiding place to answer a call of nature.

  With luck like that, it would be remiss not to take advantage. I silently picked up a heavy stone and crept toward my unwitting bag of experience points.