Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) by Keith Ahrens (books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

We will eventually expect you to pitch in and help out around the village as well. But not today, nor the morrow. Go and rest. We will speak more later.” He gestures to a root structured doorway in the side of the hill.

I click on my penlight, stoop down, and duck-walk in. This cave is a lot bigger than I would've guessed. It spreads back and under the tree; its roots have grown wide to shore up the walls. It’s about thirty feet round in a large, circular shape and already warmer than the outside. A small fire pit has indeed been stocked with enough wood nearby to last us the night, and a small bundle of torches lies near it. A pile of clean, thick blankets sits next to the stack of chopped logs. By the far wall is a small wooden table, four stools, and a set of copper pots and pans.

I stick my head back out and say with gratitude, “This will do just fine Chief Grainleaf. Thank you. C'mon in guys, let’s get warm.”

“Acri will stay with me for the time being. He may rejoin you at some point, but for now, we have some family business to attend to. Now, get comfortable, but please, don't go wandering too far until I return for you. For your safety and ours.” He deftly removes Acri's pack and hands it to me with a nod. Then he steers Acri away by the shoulder gently, but firmly. I can't help but notice he has not mentioned the handcuffs again.

I lead the other two into our new digs, and Thirax begins to get a fire going. Then he lights a few torches and places them around the cavern walls. Olivia and I busy ourselves organizing the food stores and setting up our sleeping areas. A clever design in the roof vent allows the smoke to drift up and out to disperse it among the tree roots.

We discover a small clear pool of fresh water fed by a spring in the back of the cave-like room. I strip off most of my armor and pile it next to my bedroll. I keep my mace on my belt, though. Filling the copper pot up with fresh water, I set it over the fire for a few minutes to heat it up. I drink my fill of fresh cool water while I wait for the water in the pot to heat. Olivia and Thirax seem to relax enough to also remove their armor, but I notice they also keep a weapon close to hand.

The warm water feels nice as I tear a rag from my t-shirt and use it to scrub the dirt, sweat, and dried blood from my skin. The others follow suit, and the mood grows lighter the warmer and cleaner we get. I air dry my skin by the fire, and we all have a bite to eat from a few MREs.

Finally, warm, dry, and with a full belly for the first time in ages, I crawl over to my makeshift bedroll and use an empty rucksack as a pillow. Checking my sheet, I see my inventory is still comfortably full, and I have full Hit Points for a change. My eyes grow heavy, and I begin to doze when I'm awoken by Olivia crawling under the blankets and settling in right in front of me. Snuggling like a little spoon her form against me. I put my arm tentatively over her shoulder. She takes my wrist and wraps my arm around her. I drift off to sleep, happy, cozy, and content for the first time in a long while.

A few days pass uneventfully. We don't stray far from each other or our guest housing, just short hikes into the surrounding hills to gather wood. Sometimes, we catch glimpses of other elven villagers, but for now, they keep their distance. Of Acri, we see nothing at all. I hate to admit it, but I kind of miss having him around.

I take this time to rest and recoup a bit in the relative safety of Acri's people. I spend time going through my equipment and affecting any repairs I can. Except the breastplate, that is. After all the fighting, falling down ravines, and general injury that I have taken over the past few days, the armor plate still looks brand new. Even the intricate etchings on the surface look crisp and well-defined. I consider asking Acri to look at it if we ever see him again.

Thirax has gained permission to go hunting for himself in the surrounding hills. This worried me at first, but so far he always returns, albeit tired, but with a full belly. We could tell he's enjoying this little taste of freedom. Good for him.

Olivia and I spend our time relaxing when we can, housekeeping, and sparring at half-speed with heavy sticks instead of real blades. In the evenings, we take the time altogether telling and teaching Thirax about our home world. He has trouble understanding most of it, but he seems intrigued by the idea of cars and motorcycles. The notion of television he has dismissed as colorful lies, both in its content and concept.

Late at night, Olivia and I talk about other things. Anything and everything. What we are going to do when we get home, how and if we can get back to our old lives, and what we want in the future. A lot of it seems compatible, and I like the way it's going. We show each other our character sheets, which I take as a sign of our growing trust. Considering where we are, a lot of this seems more of a pipedream, but it’s always good to have hope for the future.

On the fourth day, Acri returns to us. He enters without knocking and scans the room wordlessly, picking a spot far from the rest of us. He drops his meager bedroll and flops down on top of