Game Master in Another World

I followed the party as they moved through the forest. Their formation was practiced, the kind of rhythm that only comes from long familiarity. Chris walked at the front, his bow ready but relaxed. Triss guarded the rear, eyes sharp and restless. Norman stayed in the centre, slow but steady. Cain and Jenna walked close together, their armour catching what light filtered through the leaves.

For the first few hours, they spoke little. The forest surrounded us in its quiet rhythm, filled with the sounds of boots on soil and the faint clink of metal. It was strange to move among them unseen, to hear the sounds of life without being part of it.

When the sun reached its peak, Cain broke the silence.

“Norman, how goes your research?”

 “Slow but steady,” Norman said. “I might have something practical soon, though it’s still too costly to bother with yet.”

Jenna glanced back over her shoulder, her armor clinking softly. “What are you researching?”

“A faster way to make spell scrolls. The current process wastes too many materials. If I can refine it, it might be done in a third of the time.”

I considered spell scrolls from the games I used to run, items you could just purchase for gold.  Norman’s rings around his eyes were evidence of the effort that went into actually producing them.

“That sounds wonderful,” Jenna said. “If Nemoris wills it, your study will make magic more accessible to all.”

Norman smiled faintly. “And if Lioren wills it, I might finally afford better wine.”

She frowned but not harshly. “That is not a goal worth chasing.”

Cain said, “He is teasing, Jenna. Let him have his joke.”

Their laughter broke the silence for a moment. I drifted above them, noting how different they were from the goblins. Even their teasing carried warmth. Triss scanned the trees with quiet care. Cain’s hand brushed his sword whenever the forest grew too still. Jenna hummed softly as she walked, unaware she did it. Every motion seemed shaped by habit and trust.

By late afternoon, Chris signaled for a halt. “We should reach our old campsite before dark,”.

The clearing looked unchanged from the night before. Norman whispered a few words, and sparks leapt from his fingers to the kindling. The fire caught, painting the group in gold.

Jenna and Cain went to gather wood. I followed. They moved between the trees, breaking branches and piling them in Cain’s arms.

“Have you told the others about us?” Jenna asked, her voice low. She kept her gaze on the fallen branch she snapped, not on Cain.

“Not yet,” Cain replied. “It can wait until we return. It’s easier that way.”

“I hate hiding it.”

“You can wait a week, can’t you?”

“I can,” she said, smiling. “But you owe me when we get back.”

He laughed quietly. “Deal.”

They returned to camp. Norman stirred a pot above the fire, adding crushed herbs from a pouch.

“A little flavor tonight,”

Triss sighed with relief. “Better than boiled roots again.”

Chris grinned. “Boiled roots with seasoning. We dine like kings.”

Their laughter softened the air. I watched them eat and thought how strange it was to see contentment without danger. I could not feel the fire’s heat, but I imagined what it would be like.

At dawn they erased all traces of their camp and moved on. Triss led the way, her steps quiet and deliberate. The forest grew thicker before thinning again hours later. Suddenly she raised her hand.

“Group ahead,” she whispered. “Humans, I think. Armed.”

 Cain joined her. “Are they moving?”

“No. Camped.”

“Then we go around, No sense risking another fight.”

They slipped through the brush, careful not to make noise.   I decided I would follow the party to avoid losing track of them, although it would have been interesting to see this mysterious group of people.

When they finally stopped, Triss said, “We’re clear.”

Jenna frowned. “What if they were lost? We could have helped.”

Norman shook his head. “Or died for it. You are too kind for your own good.”

“Assuming the worst in people is no way to live,” she replied.

Part of me agreed with Jenna. Part of me remembered the goblin nursery. I still wasn’t sure what kind of world this truly was.

Cain said quietly, “Both of you are right. Let’s keep moving.”

By nightfall, they made another camp. Norman admitted he had no spices left. Chris teased him, Triss muttered something about bland food, and they laughed before lying down to sleep.

Only Triss remained awake, watching the treeline. I drifted above, listening to the forest breathe. My thoughts wandered. I wondered what creatures hunted in these woods at night. Wolves seemed likely. I imagined them circling the camp, silent and hungry, just stat blocks.

A growl answered my thought.

Triss moved fast. She crossed to Cain and shook his shoulder. “Wolves,” she whispered.

In an instant, the camp shattered into motion. The first wolf broke from the tree line, a mass of dark fur and yellow teeth lunging for Triss. She twisted aside, driving her dagger deep with a sickeningly wet sound. Another went for Cain; he met it with the heavy thud of his shield and cut it down.

I watched them from above, useless. In a game, this was just rolling for initiative.

Two more charged Norman. He shouted a word, sharp like snapping ice, and four darts of light burst from his hands, striking both.

A fifth wolf leapt at Jenna.

 She raised her arm to block. Jaws clamped onto her forearm.

Crack.

The sound of her bone giving way was louder than the snarls. She screamed—a raw, tearing sound that cut straight through the phantom quiet of my existence.

I surged downward without thinking, my hands reaching out to pull the beast off her, to strike it, to do anything.

My hands passed uselessly through the wolf’s thick fur. I could feel nothing. I could stop nothing. I was a ghost trapped in a nightmare I used to think was fun.

Cain rushed forward with a roar, his sword cutting through fur and flesh. Jenna fell back, clutching her arm, blood dark and shining against her sleeve.

Three more wolves darted from the shadows. Chris met them with both blades, killing one, dodging another, and stabbing the third through the throat. The survivors vanished into the trees.

When silence returned, only the crackle of fire remained.

“Everyone alive?” Cain called.

“Alive,” Triss said.

“My arm, it took quite the blow but it will heal” Jenna muttered, grimacing.

Jenna leaned back against the log, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The glowing light faded from her hand, leaving the terrible gash closed, but her skin was the color of ash. She was trembling violently, clutching the mended arm to her chest as if the wolf’s jaws were still locked around it.

Norman exhaled a long, shaky breath and looked at her torn sleeve. “Well,” he said, his voice a little too loud in the sudden quiet. “If you’re going to go around ripping your clothes off, you could at least warn a man. I’d have paid closer attention.”

Jenna closed her eyes. “Shut up, Norman,” she whispered. It wasn't her usual sharp reprimand; her voice was thin and hollow.

Nobody laughed. Cain didn't smile. He just stared into the dark woods, his grip still white-knuckled on his sword hilt, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Chris forced a half-hearted snort, but it sounded more like a cough to clear the tension.

I hovered above them, the phantom nausea still twisting inside me. In my games, a healing miracle reset a character to perfect condition. The cleric crossed off a spell slot, the party joked, and they moved on. But here, looking at Jenna shivering by the fire and Cain’s haunted eyes, I realized magic didn't erase the trauma. They had just survived, by inches, and they all knew it.

They butchered the wolves together. When the fire burned low, they roasted strips of meat. The scent of cooking drew them close, faces warm in the flickering glow. I could not smell it, but I saw how they leaned toward the heat, how their shoulders relaxed, chasing warmth I could only imagine.

By morning, they had eaten and packed. The forest thinned as they walked, the trees giving way to open plains. Sunlight fell unhindered now, bright and sharp.

They moved in single file along a narrow path. Norman hummed softly. Chris checked his bowstring again. Jenna’s newly bandaged arm rested against her chest. Cain looked back at her often, though she pretended not to see.

By midday, the trees ended. Grassland stretched in every direction, rolling green under a vast blue sky. Fences divided the land, and sheep grazed in small groups. In the distance, smoke rose from chimneys.

I drifted higher, watching their small shapes move across the open ground. Ahead stood a village surrounded by a wooden palisade, the wood pale and weathered.

Their pace quickened as they neared it. I followed, curious. This would be my first time seeing how people lived when they were not fighting to survive.

A village. My first human settlement in this world. I drifted higher, unable to stop the flicker of excitement rising in me.

The village waited beneath the afternoon sun, quiet and self-contained. The wind rippled through the grass like a slow wave.

And I followed them onward, eager to see what peace looked like in this world.

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