Miles

Olive returned at dawn; her presence a stark reminder that a woman remained among them. To her surprise, however, when Olive arrived she noticed a distinct sense of camaraderie. 

The men had near perfectly divided themselves amongst the tasks. The larger of them carried logs from the bottom of the hill up while those with technical skills such as construction, engineering, and architecture assembled their shelters. 

For the men who had meek staminas or were too weak to assist in working with the logs, they were assigned weaving. From the lush grasses of the valley, men sat in circles atop the hill and braided until their hands either cramped or bled. 

It could be said that the robust men built the houses while the meek men worked to fill them: baskets, blankets, clothes, canteens — the men were guided on how to make it all. 

In addition to the well-oiled machine Isaac conducted, Olive also saw the woes of exhaustion: baggy eyes, pale complexions, lethargic movements — the men were running out of fuel. 

Olive found Isaac around a cluster of tree stumps. Unlike the rest, a light sweat coated him. He severed the trees instantaneously with his |Wave Slash| and a sturdy stick, and before they fell, the burly hands of men gripped the trunks and carried them yonder. 

To Isaac's right, a group of six tussled in the grass. Each engaged in their own duel, the group of six divided into pairs and fought each other respectfully. In the downtime of waiting for the robust men to return, Isaac commented on the group's form and guided them when needed. 

"Your center of gravity is off." Isaac said, smacking a man's calf with his stick. 

"Who are they?" Olive asked. 

"Just the polished of the bunch." Isaac said. 

He turned away from the active skirmish and sat on one of the tree stumps. 

"Anything?" He asked. 

Olive pulled something sizable and round from behind her. As large as a grapefruit, the blue ball possessed smooth, reflective skin and was slightly soft — had Olive squeezed any more than necessary, the plump ball would burst. 

"There's an orchard four miles south-east of us that produces this fruit." Olive handed the blue ball to Isaac. 

"Is it safe to eat?" 

Olive shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know." 

"Any signs of intelligent life?" 

"None —" Olive didn't miss a beat, "although I did see some sort of deer, but it was from a distance and was gone by the time I caught up." 

"Hmm." Isaac shifted, "How are you?" 

Olive sighed. "I'm a little tired, but okay." 

"You?" She asked after a moment. 

"I suppose I feel the same —" Isaac toyed with the blue fruit, "although I must admit, I've been feeling restless." 

"Why? What's up?" Olive asked. 

"Why haven't the others come?" He asked. 

"Why did the Status specifically reference opponents?" 

"Speaking of, where the hell even are the opponents?" 

"The land is flat — there isn't a mountain in sight, let alone any sort of structure — and if that's the case, then where is the next Gate?" 

Isaac listed his concerns. 

"But above all — I fear the next summoning." 

"The summoning?" Olive asked, "Why?" 

"Olive my dear, you've just spent somewhere around eight hours exploring our terrain and in that time you didn't come across a single water source nor enough food to feed sixty people. In twenty-nine days it'll be over a hundred, then two hundred after that. And even if we manage to solve the food crisis — in a matter of months we'll be dealing with far too many people to reasonably control." 

"I'm afraid we're cut too thin for this, Olive." Isaac lamented. 

"Okay." Olive said. 

"You've listed our problems, great, now how do we solve them?" 

"I wish it was that simple." Isaac sighed. 

"It is that simple!" Olive retorted, "So we need a water source and a food source, right? Can't that fruit be both?!" 

Isaac raised the fruit. It was indeed squishy, like a plum. 

"What about protein, Olive? Carbs?!" Isaac argued. 

"I'll find it!" Olive said. 

Isaac looked into Olive's eyes. His gaze was soft and deep, but it ran through her like a bullet. 

"Olive—" 

Just when Isaac was about to console Olive, one of the men sparring in the group of six spoke up. He approached the duo and draped his arm over Isaac's shoulder — an outlandish move to say the least. 

"What's a pretty little thing like you gonna be able to do out there anyway?" 

The man was well built. Broad shoulders, wide biceps, muscular pecs — he had dark skin, black but not African, likely a mix of some sort. He was in his twenties and had short curly hair and pristine white teeth. 

"What'd you just call me?" Olive fired. 

"Miles —" Isaac interrupted, "that's enough." 

"Oh, come on coach!" Miles patted Isaac's back, "I'm just worried about our little lady friend here! I don't want her to get hurt." Miles pouted.

Without uttering a word, Isaac stood up and distanced himself from Miles. He crossed his arms in a defeated manner and offered Miles his condolences.

"I'm sorry son, but you're on your own now." 

"Wha—" Miles's diaphragm crumbled underneath the force of Olive's knuckles. 

Moving faster than Miles could react, Olive burst towards the black man and rammed her fist into his gut. Momentarily, his heels lifted off the ground before he plummeted down, clutching his stomach in pain. With a face warped in agony, he stared up at the vixen who struck him. 

"HAHAHA!!" 

"Did you see what just happened to Miles?!" 

From the distance, a group of burly men returned from their log delivery. Far enough away to miss their dialogue, but close enough to witness Miles sniffle like a bitch — all the men laughed. 

Olive noticed the laughter behind her. She was already tired of dealing with Miles so the thought of interacting with more rambunctious idiots unsettled her. Instead, she made an instantaneous decision and locked eyes with Isaac. 

"I'll find your water source." 

Olive turned away from the men watching her and brazenly walked into the treeline. 

"Before nightfall!" She shouted as she left. 

Meanwhile, Miles struggled to his feet while the men of giant stature glazed him. They pushed him around, rummaged his hair, one even twisted his nipple. For the remainder of the day, Miles became the men's punching bag. 

With each log delivery, the story of Miles being put in his place traveled from ear to ear and, like the game Telephone, with each passing the story warped ever so slightly. 

"Hey did you hear? Miles got his ass beat by that redhead!" 

"What? I heard he asked her out and she went for the low blow!" 

"Asked her out? Someone told me Miles copped a feel!" 

Miles endured the snarky comments and the physical play. He put his white teeth to good use and grit them everytime Olive's name was announced. And with each passing joke, each purple-nurple and wet-willy, the disdain in Miles grew. 

Olive did this to him. 

She interrupted their training. 

She attacked him. 

At some point, Miles couldn't interpret the story any other way. 

***

Olive drifted through the forest for hours on end and she scarcely encountered something exotic. The forest was filled with life, on the contrary, but the life that pervaded it was mundane at best: flowers for example, small orange poppies that grew along the forest path. Next, there were butterflies. 

In fact, the forest had an abundant butterfly population with what appeared as a mountain of various species. Some butterflies were pink and yellow, others distinctly red. The wildest butterfly Olive encountered was white and not cream white, but bright fluorescent white.  

Olive followed the white butterfly for a while, but after an unfortunate mishap and an unfortunate deer sighting — Olive lost sight of the miraculous creature. 

The deers, speaking of, were surprisingly not deers. On more than a few occasions now, Olive has run into the antler-bearing look-alikes, but the "deer" that inhabit this forest are much larger than Earthly deer and bear joints similar to a wolf's. Their antlers are larger, sharper, and in contrast with their gray short hair — they possessed a tail as long as their body which was covered in feathers. 

The feathers were not extraordinary, they simply evolved from gray at the base, then to a subtle orange, then a rich brown. These same colors coated the back of the "deer's" neck as the fur grew longer there — almost like a mane but not all around. 

Still, with the head of a deer and oversized antlers — Olive didn't really know what else to call them. If she could eventually kill one and the Status registered it, maybe she could get a name from there — but considering how difficult they've been to find…

Olive resigned the notion. 

Partially defeated, Olive slumped against a tree and slid to the ground. Her breaths heaved at this point and she was covered in sweat — she had to constantly wipe it from her brow. 

'I don't have much time left.' Olive thought as the sun hung barely above the foliage. 

'If I don't find anything today, should I go back? Or keep searching through the night?' 

'I'll only need a few hours of rest anyway.' 

'Surely it's safe enough for that.' 

'There's nothing IN this forest to begin with!'

'Ahh. Wait. The mysterious opponents.' Olive rolled her eyes. 

'Do I just summon Cain?' 

Olive watched a butterfly meander in front of her. For some reason, it kept flying between two trees. Just back and forth, back and forth. 

'Cain can probably just skip to the end.' 

'But is that what I want? Someone else saving me?' 

Olive didn't reply to herself immediately. In fact, the question seemed to stump her because it took many minutes for her internal voice to return. 

'The heroine in distress, a tale as old as time…' Olive chuckled. 

'And also my least favorite story.' 

'So I really can't summon Cain if I think about it like that.' 

"Ribbit." 

The sound of a toad graced Olive's ears. 

"Ribbit." 

Olive leaped off the ground and tracked the sound. It came from a bush not too far away from her. Desperate and hungry, Olive dove head-first into the dense collection of sticks and thorns. Despite what she learned from movies, Olive made it roughly a foot into the bush before she was stopped cold — now cut up and dirty. 

"Ribbit." The toad croaked.  

///LostNoteFound///

Thank you, thank you, thank you! WalkingBush, DevilGod_of_Chaos, ThatMaskedWarrior, UnKnownEntity001, AND Dayden_Brown!!!!

Three NEW names! Thank you guys and I hope the story only gets better from here!