Rookies

The sun had risen high before Red spoke his first word of the morning.

Selena was cleaning the dishes after their quiet breakfast, doing her best to mimic what she'd seen Red do the day before, scrubbing with crushed bark, rinsing in clean water, drying with a strip of cloth that smelled faintly of mint and smoke.

"You've never cooked before," Red said, matter-of-factly, not as a judgment.

Selena blinked, startled. "Um… no. I… ate scraps, mostly. Or whatever someone dropped."

He nodded once, unsurprised.

"Come here," he said, motioning her toward the kitchen fire.

Red spent the next hour showing her everything.

How to sort ingredients by shelf. How to wash rice properly, not just boil it. Which spices were for flavour, and which were for preservation. He taught her how to catch the right heat by smell, how to know when something was burning before it burned.

He moved without wasted motion.

And to her surprise, he explained things. Quietly. Simply. But clearly.

"These herbs" he said, pointing to a bundle of dried green strips, "help when your stomach feels heavy. These ones numb pain, but make you sleepy. Never mix them."

Selena nodded, absorbing every word like her life depended on it.

Because in a way, it might.

After the kitchen, he led her outside.

The morning was warm, the stream glinting in the sun as birds chirped lazily in the trees. Red stopped near the edge, pulling a simple fishing rod from beside the porch.

"Food doesn't appear by itself," he said. "You'll catch your own if I'm gone too long."

He demonstrated, casting the line, reeling slowly, watching for the subtle shift in water tension.

Then he retrieved a simple spear from behind a tree stump. Carved, balanced, honed.

Red: "For shallow water. Use your eyes. Don't chase. Wait."

Selena tried both methods, awkward at first, but Red didn't comment. He let her struggle. Let her learn.

That was part of the lesson.

He showed her the traps next.

Hidden glyph lines etched into trees. Loose branches designed to snap under weight. Small pits dug under leaf piles.

"They're not for rabbits," he said plainly. "Goblin patrols. Forest beasts. Sometimes worse."

Selena stood silently, watching. Taking it all in.

"This place," he continued, eyes sweeping the perimeter of his land, "isn't a fortress. But it's safe. As long as you know how to keep it that way."

He pointed to a line of disturbed soil.

Red: "Step here. Alarm trigger. Only me, or it explodes."

Selena immediately stepped back.

He said nothing.

But a subtle nod told her: Good.

By noon, he walked her back to the cabin. They stood at the door, the stream burbling gently in the distance.

"I have a quest to check," he said, strapping on his sword and travel satchel.

Selena looked unsure. "Am I… staying here?"

He nodded once.

Red: "Don't leave the property. Watch the traps. Don't invite strangers."

He stepped inside the kitchen, pulled open a drawer, and revealed a rack of knives, clean, sharp, polished.

"If anything comes through that door that isn't me…" He glanced at her, eyes calm but serious. "Use these."

Selena hesitated. Then nodded.

"I will."

By the time Red was gone, boots fading down the woodland path, Selena sat at the cabin's edge with a fishing rod in hand.

She wasn't just surviving anymore.

She was learning how to live.

Red's steps carried him back into the rhythm of the city.

The eastern gate guards greeted him with their usual silence and quick nods. By now, they didn't even pretend to question where he'd been.

The Guild Hall was as noisy as ever.

Red walked in.

The board was cluttered, as usual, errands, low-rank monster clearings, escort jobs. Nothing marked Urgent. Nothing dangerous. And no goblin signs anywhere.

He didn't linger.

Instead, he returned to the market.

Bread. Salted rice. Dried meat strips. Water flasks. Root vegetables. Dried fruit. Bandages. Red potions. Two oranges.

He packed enough for thirty people again.

He moved stall to stall, silent and swift, the merchants barely registering his presence until they felt coins in their hands.

By the time the sun began its slow descent, Red had already passed the city walls again.

His destination was never in question.

Because hunger didn't wait for quests to pay.

And Red, quietly, without announcement, had made a promise to himself.

As long as he lived, the slums would not be forgotten.