Zov’ha hushed Efiros’ low growls by wrapping one arm around his fluffy neck, calming him down. Feeling her heart pounding against her sternum, she took a deep breath to steady herself. Soon she realised why she felt this way — instinctively she recognised the sound of  hoverbikes — the distinct purr of the engines, and the alternating booming rhythm of the terra-magnetic turbines. 

Within minutes, three bikes whirred past them from the west, leaving a trail of white smoke as they headed southeast. The electric blue glow from the rear lights reflected exquisitely in the waters of the lake, lighting up boulders that they passed by. 

Zov’ha was mesmerised. Whether it was the smell of the smoke trail, the speed at which the bikes hurtled across the lake, or the flashy lights, she didn’t know what it was that intrigued her — all she knew was that she wanted one. Only after it was silent again did she realise that she had clenched her fists as if she were holding the handles of a bike and had been moving her feet to the sound of the revving engines. 

Glad that they had not been detected, Sinovan sighed and said, ‘As I predicted… Raiders! No Aerozan in their right mind would travel towards Hell’s Teeth at night. Looks like they have a new base in these parts. Farms like mine are an easy target.’

Keeping their ears open and their eyes peeled, they emerged from behind the boulders. 

Sinovan set up a small campfire on the shore of the lake for cooking and for warmth. Zov’ha’s fish-catching skills only rewarded her with red-orange freshwater prawns, which were good enough for the night’s meal, since she had gathered a lot of wildberries from nearby shrubs. Efiros would have preferred to have eaten a waterfowl, but his clumsy chase earlier had scared the birds away for good. 

Zov’ha finished her meal first and was sitting silently, watching a curiously large beetle make its way under a rock. 

She had been concerned about Sinovan and was struggling to find a way to commiserate with him. Now that the trauma of the raid had waned, the Calcar seemed to be mourning the loss of his home and family. More than once, over the course of the day, Zov’ha had caught him sobbing and trailing away behind them with the excuse that the drift-wagon would not go any faster. 

‘What do you farm?’ She asked him finally in an attempt to extricate him from his misery. 

Sinovan was avariciously devouring some berries he had kept for last. He looked up at her a little puzzled, berry juice dripping from his lips and besmirching his chin. The slightest smile appeared on his hardened face. 'Shuffle cones,' he replied, before resuming his assault on the berries. 

‘What are these… Shuffle Cones?’ Zov’ha persisted, albeit politely. 

‘The Divine Purge affected everything,’ the Calcar replied, wiping his mouth with a spare cloth. ‘...animals, humans…  plants. Most of the large pines at the foot of Hell’s Teeth mountains mutated into a stunted snag, and their cones began to turn red as flame with constant exposure to the Crimson Fog. Those Shuffle Cones proved to be a good source of fuel in Aeroz. For generations, we grew more pine trees and harvested their cones. They are nourished by a nightly dose of Crimson Fog. It’s dangerous work, but it pays.’ 

‘What happens now?’ Zov’ha asked, hoping that the conversation would ease his bereavement.  

Sinovan shook his head, ‘The farm belongs to the Merchant’s of Ro, one of Aeroz’s seven confederacies. They’ll simply assign me to another farm, and another family.’ 

‘I’m sorry… about your family.’  

‘Ah, it’s not your fault,’ said Sinovan, stuffing another handful of berries into his mouth, unable to restrain himself. Once he swallowed the morsel, he continued, ‘Don’t worry about my family. I may be in mourning, but I know there’s hope in Aeroz. Besides, I wasn’t related to them by blood. We were all brought to work there by the Merchants. But we knew each other well.’ 

Zov’ha didn’t press any further. 

Efiros had rolled onto his side and fallen asleep already. The moon was now at the zenith, spilling milky white light over the lake. An icy wind crystallised the dew on the rocks and the plants, blanketing the landscape like chalkdust, giving it a ghastly appearance under the moonlight. 

Sinovan checked on his brother, throwing a woollen blanket over him, before slipping into a thick pull-on blanket himself. The fire had reduced to embers, so he threw in some dry wood before  laying down. Soon he was asleep as well, leaving Zov’ha to her thoughts. She sat cross-legged staring at the fire, head resting on the palm of the right hand, the flame dancing in her eyes.

Eighteen months she had been wandering in the wilderness. She had mentally kept count of the days. Well, at least eighteen months is what she remembered counting — it may have been more. What had been her life before that? All she had were fragments of memories. 

She knew things, like “Autoichorium” — some substance or material that had an iridescent shine; she could almost remember how it felt but what it really was readily escaped her like an elusive thought that was at the tip of her tongue.  

Calcars — she had not met a single soul while she wandered the wild, and yet, when she came upon Sinovan and Segran she instinctively knew that they were Calcars, and helping them seemed… right. It was unnerving, of course, meeting another human after so long, but it also felt right. 

She had fumbled and said that her name was “Zovhara”. It was instinctive… as if she was used to saying it all her life. But was that really her name? Or something that sounded similar? Or was it the name of someone she knew?  

The only memory that came to her willingly was that of Efiros, who she had found whimpering at the foothills of Hell’s Teeth. She had offered him food, and they had been inseparable since. It was only when she had started talking to the bear cub at nights that she realised that she could actually speak, and that she knew that language quite well. 

The fire no longer prospered in the fuel of dry wood and had dwindled to crackling cinders. Feeling the heaviness of sleep caress her mind, Zov’ha’s head slipped off her palm and lolled between her shoulders. The air stiffened as the icy wind ceased, and she drifted off into a pleasant dreamless sleep. 

Dawn was welcomed by hoarfrost that carpeted the land and lake like frosting on the crust of Aeroz’s popular dinner cake. Sinovan and Zov’ha had to pull and stretch their encrusted blankets to get rid of the ice. Efiros simply shook off the frost that had hardened his fur. While the sun remained content behind a thick layer of clouds and mist, the weather remained brisk and uncomfortable.

 The travellers resumed their journey after a quick meal of rations and berries. Zov’ha armed herself with the heavy lance, which she had found in Sinovan’s farm, just in case they came across perils on the way. 

By midday, they had left the lake behind and had started up a steep slope. Stunted icicle-covered trees and twisted shrubs grew sparsely everywhere. Short grass carpeted the ground, covered in frost like white ash. 

A demanding hike brought them to the top of a knoll overlooking rocky plains. Far ahead, on the northern horizon, the towers of a grand city shone brilliantly despite the overcast sky. Sinovan’s smile burned away his despondency — there’s hope in Aeroz.

But his grin crumpled into a sour expression of concern as they heard a low hum of engines approaching from behind them. Throwing up dust and ice, they could see three hoverbikes heading towards them at frightening speed from the foot of the knoll.