One small rabbit and two potatoes were hardly a feast but over the past few months I had grown used to living off the land. Grandmother’s pouches held a variety of herbs and spices that, when added in small pinches, gave each simple meal a little depth. She had surprised me by offering to come with me. I had surprised myself by accepting. At that time I had only a vague idea of where I wanted to go.

Through spring and summer we had made our way farther and farther from the farm, never travelling more than four or five kilometers a day. Everyday involved physical exercises that Grandmother insisted I do for my health. We also played games designed to test the boudaries of my talent. There were more things I couldn’t do than ones I could. Grandmother said that was normal but I was still disappointed.

“W-we’re g-g-g-oing to r-run the cycle a-g-g-ain.” Grandmother said.

I groaned. The cycle was a series of highly detailed images thrown in rapid succession designed to disorient a target’s mind.

“R-Ready?”