A loud boom in the middle of the night startled me awake. A couple of seds ter, there was a fsh, and the rain started p down in ear. Stretch lifted his head, looked around briefly, a back to sleep with a tented sigh. It took me loo fall asleep; the rain was loud, drumming incessantly oent roof and creating a symphony of nature's chaos.

  In the m, I was again awakened by the "tongue arm," Stretch's way of ensuring I didn't sleep in. It was still raining, and the sky showed no signs of clearing up. I opehe tent opy, started the fire, and gave Stretch a sizeable pieeat.

  "Don't get used to it; when the rain stops, yoing hunting," I warned him, though his pleased expression at each meal suggested he didn't believe me.

  The rain tinued all day, creating a persistent backdrop of sound. Stretch looked very pleased every meal-time, clearly enjoying the break from any hunting duties. To pass the time, I pyed the guitar, the familiar chords blending with the rain, and tried to read a book. However, a pesky wolf demanded stas and scratches, making it hard to focus on anything else.

  In the evening, the rain finally ceased. We ate dinner ao sleep early; I was still tired from the previous night's interrupted rest.

  The day dawned cloudless and bright, the sun gleaming off the soaked ground. I didn't want to risk sinking into the mud, so we stayed put for another day. Stretch didn't leave the tent, relishing his role as a pampered wolf. I suspected he had no iion of ever trying to hunt again, having found a sucker human to feed him. At least this stop allowed me tee my mana almost fully.

  The following day, the sky was still clear, and the ground had dried enough for us to set out. Stretch was eic, running forward and then bae, his excitement palpable. I still had my bow out, looking for tracks, but only half-heartedly.

  Near midday, we emerged from the forest into a valley filled with enormous boulders and rock outcroppings. The ndscape was stark aiful, the rocks standing like a sentinels. After another hour of walking, we reached the middle of the valley and spotted animals perched on the rocks. They looked like a cross between gazelles and mountain goats. After telling Stretch to be quiet, I moved stealthily from boulder to boulder, careful not to spook them.

  Finding a goat in a good position, I aimed my arrow and fired. To my astonishment, I hit it through the neck. It wobbled for a moment before colpsing, the rest of the herd scattering. roached the fallen goat; I unscrewed the arrow's tip, ed it, aur to my ste.

  I took out a field dressing kit and examihe tools: knives, saws, big scissors, a long twed fork, and some other items. Looking at it, I realized that I had no idea what to do with those tools. Oh, I po wate YouTube videos about hunting and dressing game, but with all my shopping and Gate Hopping, I never got to it. My medical knowledge gave me some fidence, but field-dressing a goat was airely different skill set.

  I wish there was a looting spell.

  Inspired by my previous magical successes, I decided to craft a spell specifically for looting. I created a clear mental picture of what I wahe pelt removed and ed, the meat in steaks. I even id out a pstic sheet for the parts to nd on. trating, I grabbed my magic with all my willpoushed.

  The goat exploded.

  Pain shot through my face. I touched my cheek gently and found a piece of bou it. Yanking it out quickly, I winced and healed the spot. Four bone fragments had embedded themselves in my face. Thank God for my sungsses; one lens was cracked, but it had saved my eye.

  I looked at Stretch to check if he was okay. He looked as if someone had dipped him in a bucket of red paint, giving me a very judgmental side-eye.

  "Don't look at me like that; it was my first attempt," I said, feeling apologetic.

  The goat was gone, repced by a big circle of gore. Stretch shook himself, peltih more blood and bits of bone. Ugh! It took three ing spells to get all the blood off him. Just in case, I cast Healing Tou him, though it didn't seem to do anything. ing myself took five spells, and my clothes were ruined; everything except my boxers had small holes.

  Still feeling dirty, I walked back to a stream assed, undressed, and washed myself thhly. I had to soap myself and shampoo my hair again and again until I felt . The fact that the spell ed me pletely was notwithstanding. I felt bloody and icky. Stretch seemed to enjoy pying ier. Once dry, I dressed again, but Stretch shook himself and soaked me with wolf water.

  "Seriously?" I asked, annoyed.

  He wagged his tail and licked my hand.

  It was a fantastic pce to stop for lunch. To apologize for the goat shower, I gave Stretch two big filet steaks, lit my camping wood stove to make coffee, and pondered where I had gone wrong.

  "I think the problem was that I tried to do too mu one go. I also pushed too hard with my magic."

  Stretch wagged his tail and licked my fa a show of support.

  "Thanks for the vote of fidence, buddy."

  We stayed by the stream the rest of the day, setting up camp in the evening. The following m, I decided tain. After breakfast—croissants for me, chi breasts for Stretch—we set out once more to the goat area. Again, I one-shot a goat a like an aplished hunter.

  This time, I prepared in advance. I donned protective goggles aher biker gear, pulling Stretch behind me. trating, I visualized only the pelt being removed from the goat. Pushing less magid fog it only on the pelt, I managed a small pop. The pelt y in thin, rugged strips, mostly attached to the goat, with some pieces scattered around it.

  Progress, albeit small.

  I opehe goat's front and removed the internal ans. Stretch wasted no time feasting on the liver. Remembering that a kill o be drained, I found aed outcrop with a triangur roation, tied a rope around the goat's ned hung it there.

  We waited until the blood stopped flowing, Stretch finishing the liver a before taking a nap. Ohe goat was done draining, I set up a table, took it down, and cast Purify and ohing. I started cutting it up for steaks. My butchering skills were rough, but passable for a first attempt.

  We stayed in the valley for another week to refine my looting spell. I seriously decreased the goat popution, had to move things around to free up a chest cooler for all the meat, and improved my field dressing and butchering skills. I discovered the saw was for cutting bohe only progress on the looting spell was that most of the pelt now flew off in sizeable pieces. Ohe horns also flew off; I had no idea how that happened.

  It was time to move on; I didn't want to extermihe goats.

  That evening, I cooked a goat steak for myself. It was okay but chewy. I gave the rest to Stretch, who seemed to prefer the cooked version. After he fihe cooked piece, he pushed a raw piece toward me with his muzzle, looking at me expetly.

  "Smart wolf," I muttered, cooking his meat for him. He stuck his tongue in my nose in gratitude.

  I pyed my guitar for a while before we went to sleep, feeling a sense of aplishment and camaraderie with my unventional panion.