By day three, I was thoroughly sick of the whole charade. I'd been given food and water along with the others as they ate, but I was watched at all times. They gave me a break from the cage every night to allow me to sleep, but I was shackled even then.

We made good time, much to my dismay, and with two of my captors pulling the cage, we had quickly left the desert behind on the first day. By now we were barrelling merrily through the plains eastwards alongside the foothills of the Dragon-Spine Mountains, and while my knowledge of the geography of this world was still shaky, it seemed to me that we were destined for one of the many seaside port towns littering the edge of the Narrow Sea.

It made sense that we wouldn't be crossing the Dragon-Spines – far too easy for me to slip away when not confined to this ridiculous cage, not to mention far too dangerous to cross at my level, and theirs too, I would wager. No, it was the coast for me, it seemed, and likely a long sea voyage to the Sunset Kingdoms from there.

I had reluctantly settled into my current position as prisoner. I had rebelled against the idea for two nights, creating schemes each more hare-brained than the last, before I finally reached the point of acceptance. I was trapped, and there was precious little I could do about it.

I still felt the familiar rage bubble up every now and then, especially when my captors reinforced the hierarchy. 'Keep your arms inside the cage' and other ridiculous rules seemed more like a reminder of my helplessness than a real requirement – realistically, there was no chance of escaping. At this stage anyway.

What helped most was the discussion I'd had with Nathlan a few days prior. Reading about the Breeze-Born rebellion in Colchet had inspired me to look for more. I'd asked him about other famous heroes, mythical figures and folk-tales, and Nathlan had lit up like a beacon.

We'd spent most of the afternoon talking, and he'd filled my little brain up with a multitude of heroic individuals; Markath Breeze-born, Arakosh Wyrms-Bane, The Silence, Sythics Thrice-Blessed, Hazel of clan Zutesh, the Scarab King… The list was likely endless, with more would-be gods rising to challenge the heavens each era before being broken by their counterparts or the uncaring world around them.

The one that stood out to me with hindsight though was Sol D'Antereq. Not for any feat of greatness, but rather because her story gave context to my current situation. Her story presented two choices when the anger came; the first was to react. Let the rage leak out in a great display of violence, fight with all my worth against my captors and show them my defiance. I may not win, but I could make their lives hell. I could show them that I was not a mere rat to be captured and caged. I could make them bleed for their arrogance. This was the path of Altine's hero.

Unfortunately, that would probably get me killed. Or so beaten and broken that I would spend the rest of the journey a shell of myself, and long-term my odds of escape would go down drastically. So the other option then; accept my position. Swallow my rage and play along. I would still put up the token resistance expected of me, but I would harden my heart to the humiliation and discomfort and play the role of meek captive. Use the reprieve to stay as ready as possible, so that when the time came, I could escape with as much of my former strength as possible.

It was an easy choice in theory, but I struggled in practice not to rage against the treatment. I didn't think I had much of a temper in the traditional sense – I was always putting myself as the butt of the joke, and there wasn't much that would make me angry, above the usual sort of thing that enflamed everyone. But my rebirth in this new world, where my first few months were filled with life and death struggle, had certainly lent me a savage edge that I struggled to control.

It was easier to think of my pathbound Skill influencing me than to take the honest view; that it was simply a reflection of who I was on the inside. That in some ways I was dangerously unstable, and liable to escalate a situation beyond reason. Hells, look at Colchet. That was presumably the thing that had ended me up in this fucking cage, though no one seemed inclined to keep me informed of the reasons either way.

So, patience. I repeated it like a mantra. Patience. Your time will come. Patience.

I looked left to the Dragon-Spines once more. Of course, the continent-spanning mountain range didn't just burst forth from the earth like the spine of a titanic lizard. Like every good mountain range, it was ringed by smaller hills and rolling forests carpeting the transition from open plane to rugged terrain that we couldn't, or perhaps shouldn't, cross.

It would be folly to try and escape deep into the mountains, since Jorge had heavily emphasised to me that there were parts of the world far too dangerous for me. Places where the creatures, and sometimes even plants and the very earth itself, were far too powerful. Places where even a 4th tier warrior – those nigh-invincible gods – would struggle to survive.

The deep peaks and valleys of the Dragon-Spines were some of those places, and while there was less danger the further from the highest peaks you travelled, that was relative. Anywhere in the mountains-proper would be too deadly for anyone not already in their 2nd tier, and a strong one at that.

I could stick to the hills though. The lowlands, the rough meadows and rocky outcroppings, treading deep into the forested valleys, and hiding my presence in the vast wilderness. While I didn't fancy a fight with all three of the weaker captors, I had no such qualms about out-running them. They may even have movement Skills, but my combination of strength, agility and endurance was high even for a warrior at the peak of the 1st tier, and I would back myself against any similarly levelled individual when it came to a chase through wild hills.

No, the issue was that fucking Francis fellow. Any escape attempt would have to start with him distracted, and for long enough for me to get out of sight and lose myself among the trees. Probably longer, as I'd need to cover my tracks as well. I could see the edge of the forest on my left as we trundled along the packed earthen road, probably no more than a mile away.

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Now all I needed was the luck of the gods to shine down on me and drop a massive distraction in my lap. Easy.

More cage-yoga for the time being, then.

I tracked the heavy clouds as they rolled towards us from the mountains. Dark, foreboding and full of promise, the storm-front swirled and scudded across the sky, wind leading the charge and whipping the hair from my face.

I tried my best to contain my vicious grin, but I needn't have bothered. Francis had seen the storm just before I had and was busy shouting orders to the two idiots pulling my cage. The scout was already returning.

"Shavkat, Rank; get that fucking cart turned around! We're heading to the forest. Now!"

Francis's commanding voice cut through the charged air, and the two bulky guards scrabbled to obey. The speed at which the storm arrived was impressive, but also not unexpected given the mountainous environment. Weather changed quickly here, and while the locals would probably call this nothing but a quick shower, the heavy clouds and scything wind seemed more than a storm to me.

My captors clearly didn't want to be out in the open plain either with this weather, and as I was finally wheeled under the cover of the forest canopy, I caught the first few impacts of fat raindrops on my head. I turned my face to the sky, eager to slake my thirst, knowing this may be the last chance I would get before my desperate escape.

As the team bustled around setting up their camp, I tried desperately to think of a suitable distraction. Ideally, I'd want to lure a creature here that could challenge Francis. Something powerful this close to the plains would be difficult to find, let alone lure without arousing suspicion. I knew a few calls that could come in handy, courtesy of Jorge's lessons – mountain lion, bear, auroch, and a few species of birds – but I was liable to get my teeth kicked in if I started hooting in the middle of the camp.

Couldn't be sound then, that was too obvious. Smell wasn't not really an option either, and taste was out. Sight then? But what could any creature see in this fucking forest? Anything I could do that they'd see would mean they were already here in the first place, and I currently saw no animal-shaped distractions happily swanning around the camp.

"Get a fire going – not too large, though. We don't want to draw unwanted attention. If we're sitting though a thunderstorm, we'll need some hot food. Get the kettle out, Sven."

"Right you are, boss."

I nearly laughed with relief. Smoke! That would do it. I just had to make the not-too-large fire into a definitely-too-large fire somehow. Smiling to myself internally, I settled back into the cage in position three and waited to be released.

My time came no more than an hour later, my captors no doubt keen to get bedded down inside their canvas tents and out of the cold rain dripping through the canopy. I actually did let out a smile when I saw the sadistic one – Shavkat – come to grab me, knowing he would give me more plausible deniability.

The cage door clanged as it opened, and a thick arm thrust its way in, grabbing a handful of my cloak and pulling me roughly out. I fought back, acting affronted that I would be handled in such a manner, going so far as to spit at the burly man as I was pulled out of the iron crate-on-wheels. His reaction was swift and outsized, as I had hoped.

I was thrown bodily to the ground, a cacophony of swearing from the man as his boot sunk into my stomach. I groaned and flung myself in the air, not having to do much at all to simulate the movement, such was the force of his strike.

Unfortunately for him, I landed directly on the small cooking fire that Sven was nursing. I rolled, at first just trying to spread the fire to as much of the still-dry underbrush as possible. Within a few heartbeats though, the heat started to become noticeable, and my act became a frantic scrabble to put out the flames clinging to my heavy cloak.

I eventually succeeded, although I'd left a nasty burn on the wolf's fur cloak around my shoulder, and singed some of my hair, not to mention the reddened skin on my cheek that would likely develop into a proper burn soon. I barely looked up in time to block another hefty swing of a heavy boot coming at my face, diverting enough of the force to merely knock me on my back rather than break my nose outright.

"I'm gonna make you bleed for that, boy." He leered down at me beneath a tangle of greasy hair as he lifted his foot again, intent in kicking my teeth in. He was shoved off by an equally red-faced Sven, who seemed just as pissed, although at his companion rather than me, thank all the gods.

"Fuck off, Shavkat. You ruined my trousers! And there goes our tea too, you idiot!" He bellowed, pushing the burly man again.

Shavkat for his part seemed bewildered, gesturing wildly down at my prone form as he raged back at Sven. "It was his fault! Idiot boy spat in my face, you think I'm gonna just let that slide? And why are you pushing me, hey? Need me to remind you what happened last time a man got in my face like that?"

Sven blanched, and Shavkat took a menacing step forward, hand dropping to the handle of a thick knife at his belt, clearly noticing the change in demeanour and relishing the fear he put in his companion.

I was bewildered. The burning logs now scattered about the forest floor were catching in the underbrush. The wild grasses that covered the plain had lost their grip on the land inside the forest, being replaced by carpets of mosses and pine needles, but given how close we were to the edge, the ground was still predominantly made up of tall yellow grasses.

Grasses which acted like kindling, twirling and dancing in the overcast twilight as they shared their eager flames with each other. I watched in awe as the fire spread, snaking through the camp and climbing up one of the tents and another of the trees by way of dried, moss-ridden vines.

I gaped in amazement as the two massive idiots argued and squared off against the backdrop of their camp collapsing behind them, entirely unnoticed. I wondered for a single joyous moment if they'd even come to blows and give me enough time to sneak away myself.

That was until Francis' cultured voice cut through the night, no longer so delicate and refined as before. "Oi! Get your asses back here and clean up that fucking fire before I put both of you in that cage with the little bastard."

His voice echoed around the clearing and the two idiots stopped abruptly, hastening to obey his orders once more. Shavkat gave me a look that I'm ashamed to say made me flinch a little, and he curled his lip before spitting at me, his smirk promising retribution that I definitely didn't want to be around to endure.

The flames were quickly stamped out, water thrown over the vines and tent, surrounding us with the sound of hissing and spitting for a few moments. Then, without much fanfare, the fire was put back together, the camp reorganised, and the evening continued on as normal. I caught Francis watching me a few times, but he didn't say anything, and for now seemed to buy the idea that I was a victim of circumstance rather than an instigator in the whole camp-on-fire oopsy we'd just experienced.

I watched as smoke curled up and away from us, winding through the canopy and hopefully shining like a beacon in the sky above to mark our camp for every predator around. I certainly knew it was a risk; with us being so close to the Dragon-Spines there could easily be a Cave Bear, or Titan Rook, or even one of the more fearsome apex predators like the Rakshasa around. That would push my plan from the 'risky gamble' category into the 'firmly suicidal' one.

Nevertheless, I'd made my bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

Luckily for me, it was only a few hours later that they arrived. The embers had long since burned themselves out, but my senses were still aware and my mind sharp. Above the hesitant drip of water from leaf and the cautious rustle of small animals snuffling about, I heard the first growl.

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