What Makes a Hero

I looked toward the stone-built village.

The tiny village seemed to have only thirty or forty people in all, and barely a dozen stone houses. The houses were empty, with nothing inside.

I tasted a hint of rust in my mouth and realized my tongue had really been through the wringer since I woke up. I'd bitten through it several times in less than a month.

I picked the nearest house. I didn't have time to look around; I simply reached back and shut the door. The dizziness grew heavier and heavier, and I was having trouble staying upright...

Leaning against the door, I slowly slid down to the floor. The darkness crept in around me.

You either live forever or die trying. First, I'll get some sleep...

Then everything went black.

When I woke again, the room was dim. I raised my watch and checked the time using its night-vision display.

"It's five in the afternoon?"

Had I slept all day?

This medicine wasn't all that effective.

I stood up. Uh, maybe it wasn't as simple as I'd thought. My legs were still a little numb, though I couldn't tell whether it was because of the drug or my sleeping position.

Only then did I have time to look around. Stone walls, a stone bed—everything was made of stone. It was so primitive that it hardly seemed like a place ordinary people would live.

There wasn't a trace of civilization. It was like... a house built by cavemen.

I hesitated, looking around before examining the things hanging on the wall. They were all the remains of prey. But... what startled me was the human head hanging there. It seemed to have been specially treated. A woman's head, impaled on an iron rod, her eyes closed and her hair hanging