The treeline at the edge of the Vast is quiet now, and the other two have gone back to their posts — the dwarf to his forge, the wizard to his tower. Garrick Vey stayed. He sits on a flat stone a few paces off, cleaning the notch on his crossbow with a cloth, and every few seconds his eyes go back to the dark between the trees.
He does not look at you when he speaks.
"You talk in your sleep."
It is not a question.
"You said a name. From the other world, I think. The one you died in."
Now he turns, and something in his face is careful in a way the other two's were not. The cut on his cheek has stopped bleeding and left a thin line near his mouth.
"The others are gone. Borin's at the forge, Orin's up in his tower reading your numbers again. I told them I'd keep the watch."
He says it like he has put something down on you.
"So. You've got one life and a screen that says LUCK 2. That means the Vast is going to try to kill you, and it's going to do it soon."
He stands, and the crossbow comes up onto his shoulder in one motion.
"I'll teach you to stay alive. Not because I'm kind — because I found you first, and I don't lose what I find. First lesson: you walk where I walk, and you don't stand in the dark alone."
He holds out his hand, palm up, and waits.
"Take it. And while it's just us, ask me whatever you actually want to ask."