Like pillars holding up the sky, the boundless trunks of the trees filtered out the harsh cold wind from the mountains to the east, making the air heavy and warm, like the hearth of a fireplace. Feeling inordinately snug, Zov’ha lowered her hood and breathed in the refreshing air, embarking on another leg of her journey into a new and unexplored territory.

Efiros was excited with the change in scenery as well — sniffing the flowers and rolling on the dewy gravel. He even found a stump to scratch his back and sink his fangs into. Even though he was very large, he would be almost as tall as her while standing on his hind legs, Efiros was only a cub. Two small bumps on his head were just the beginnings of a pair of antlers that would sprout in a few years. 

It was dawn when they entered the purlieu of the forest, and by noon they were deep within it, where the path had all but disappeared. Zov’ha relied on the position of the sun, and her perspicacity and patience, to navigate through the labyrinth of trees, both fallen and erect.

Coming upon a little rivulet, she decided to follow it. Most people in Xerbia built their homes around water bodies — she had come across settlements in her travels before but had never ventured into them, only observing the comings and goings of folk from a distance.

Seeing that the stream trickled downhill, she followed it a long way stepping over moss-covered boulders, through narrow spaces between rocks, until she reached a placid lily pond with still waters and a few ducks that decided to take flight when they caught sight of the fierce-looking, yet timid, bear cub. Schools of silver carp, and the glimmer of whitefish scales, discernable in the pellucid water meant that dinner would be plentiful. 

There was sufficient dry wood around the shore, and it seemed like a good spot to camp for the night. Coming upon a relatively dry mound under the shade of some pine trees, Zov’ha put down her backpack, untied her limb-wraps, brazenly slipped out of her travel-worn garments, and dove into the pond.

Like a blow to the abdomen, she felt the air gushing out of her lungs as the icy bite of the pond chewed on her skin and flesh and swallowed her to its depths. Writhing up to the surface, she devoured air like a hungry beast, thrashing and pedalling until the shock of the dive had dissipated and she could breathe normally again. 

While Efiros, who preferred to stay dry, went on his little adventure around the pond chasing after large moths. Zov’ha blissfully drifted in the water, scrubbing dirt from her ruffled, ash-coloured hair and from the silvery fur on her arms and legs that was now too long for her comfort.

Staring at her reflection in the water, she observed long lines of faintly-glowing tattoos on her face and arms that scintillated starkly against her olive-coloured skin. She had no memory of receiving these markings, signs of a past that seemed too distant and inconsequential to remember or to care about. 

The evening’s meal was delivered by Efiros — three, unfortunately over-chewed, carps. Thanking her companion with a good rub under his chin, Zov’ha took up the task of gathering firewood and flint stones. One fish was handed back to the bear, who, having already eaten some during his catch, gladly devoured his second dinner. 

Night came early, as it usually did in this part of the world, and with it came the noxious crimson fog from Hell’s Teeth, the barren mountains to the east. Zov’ha was prepared, of course. She produced a gas mask from her backpack to escape the rancid odour of the mist. The rings around the filters and valves glowed blue as she flicked it on from under the neck line.

Efiros was naturally immune and so laying on his side, fell asleep.  Zov’ha’s gratifying swim and satiating dinner compelled her to sleep, which was urged on by the symphony of the night singers — grasshoppers, toads, and curlews.

Hours later, dazed from a dream that could easily have gone on forever, Zov’ha woke up to the sound of a distant rumble. Whatever it was, it had stopped. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she realised that it was still the dead of the night. The red fog had thickened, mixing with the nocturnal mist, amalgamating into a swirling menagerie that looked like hovering liquid. 

Then it came again — a distant rumble from the north. There was a cacophony of screaming voices and what sounded like blasts. Efiros was awake as well, snarling in the direction from where the upheaval could be heard. Zov’ha picked up her belongings, doused the small fire she had used for cooking and keeping herself warm, and sprinted into the darkness with Efiros at her tail. 

After only a few minutes of running through thick clusters of trees and tall, thorny brush, a distant light was visible in the north. The crimson fog artfully refracted the fiery rays through the trees, blinding Zov’ha now and then, as she raced through a narrow glen towards the light.

The two travellers finally came to a stop at a clearing. A huddle of simple cottages, ablaze in an unruly conflagration, welcomed them in morbid ovation. A raided village, Zov’ha surmised — the villagers had either fled, abandoning their homes, or had died in the fire. 

Her skin began to singe from the heat of the apoplectic fire. She avoided going too close to the burning structures and made her way cautiously around the cottages. Efiros stayed by her side as they crossed the eastern edge towards what appeared to be bodies strewn across the ashen yard. None of them were recognisable, as they were burnt to the bone.

Walking amongst the corpses, Zov’ha held back feelings of horror and anguish, looking for anybody that could be saved. Curiously, she found a lance lodged in the back of a corpse. It was a very large spear, only someone strong and tall could have wielded it.

As she wrenched the weapon out, she observed slivers of dark, iridescent, crystalline dust on the corpse, where the weapon had been embedded. Granular in texture, it was coated unevenly, like crushed velvet, its vivid colours dancing in the light of the fires. She had seen nothing like it before, but the material seemed somehow… familiar.

Zov’ha decided to keep the lance for self-defence. It had a serrated blade carved out of bone, tied to a wooden shaft with rope. Though the woodwork was shabby, it had good balance. 

Efiros had made a round of the courtyard and found nothing. He let out a great snort as he joined Zov’ha, signalling that it was time to leave. 

Zov’ha turned to retrace her steps, but to her surprise, she perceived two silhouettes, one supporting the other, approaching her. Fear of contact with another, after years spent in solitude, suddenly gripped her, and she was petrified. Efiros sniffed the air around the newcomers but remained passive. 

Light from the inferno illuminated their faces — Zov’ha could make out sharp bone spurs protruding from their shoulders, heads, and limbs. They were both wearing gas masks that covered their countenance, but Zov’ha instinctively knew, as her past spun threads of memories in her mind, that the two men were Calcars — a sub-species of humans characterised solely by a rather vicious mutation of their calcified bones that gave rise to spikes and deformities of the skeleton.

Of them, the taller, brawnier one was injured and barely conscious. The second man was scrawny and bent, and was struggling to support the former. 

‘You…’, the gaunt Calcar barked, his voice static as it emerged from the amplifier of the gas mask. ‘Where did you come from? You look like you could give me a hand.’ 

Zov’ha was much taller and stronger than either of them, of course she would help! The scrawny man laid his companion down to catch his breath, leaving Zov’ha to inspect the lacerations on the wounded man’s chest and arms.

A mesh of iridescent crystals, like the ones on the corpse, coated the edges of the wounds, causing the skin around it to welt and whither. Feeling it with her index finger — the man winced at her touch — she sensed a slight throbbing in the crystals, as if they were alive.

But something else caught her attention, a sensation within her — an excitement, it felt like something was stirring in her chest and arms, an energy that radiated towards her index finger. She felt like she could prod further, even though she knew that it would do him harm. Blinded for a few seconds, she blinked, trying to focus. Coming to, she observed that the crystals under her finger had changed — they were bubbling like molten aluminium!