“The coming of the Shepherd was foretold. They will lead us back to Mother and save our people.”

“Do you truly believe in this prophecy?” I ask.

Piia’s face lights up with a genuine smile. At least this subject cheers her up.

“We all believe it, we have nothing else.” She says, that is concerning.

“Who spoke of this ‘prophecy’?”

“It was Mother’s Voice.”

“So Mother talks to you, could you ask her about the humans?” An omniscient God that answers questions, sounds like this world's equivalent of a search engine.

“No Mother’s Voice is a title, held by an elder that communicates with Mother using Satyr magic. They guide the tribe in her fashion.” Sounds like a shaman or priest.

“And this ‘Mother’s Voice’ elder, are their foretellings and decisions usually accurate or helpful? Do they have an idea about why the tribe is falling out of Mother’s blessing as you say?” As I ask the question, Piia's smile falters.

“The current ‘Mother’s Voice’ is quite new to the role. He’s…” Piia considers her words.

“He’s what?” I ask.

“Seth you must understand Mother’s Voice is a position of respect and authority in the tribe and the elder appointed must be treated so, however he’s different.” She looks around the trees as if checking for listening ears.

I don’t say anything, hoping for Piia to fill that silence like a human would. It doesn’t take long, we have similar social behaviours.

“He isn’t like our Voices of old, he has strange sayings and tendencies for Satyr. He makes demands in the name of Mother.” As she speaks the last words, Piias eyes fall to the ground with shame.

“How Piia?” I try to make eye contact, but she avoids me.

“Piia what is he doing?” I push the matter.

“You are not of the tribe Seth. We have been through many woes in recent seasons and Mother provided a Voice for a reason. We should not speak ill of her decision or her choices.” She snaps the last words at me.

“Then at least explain to me why you appointed him in the first place. If I'm going to help, I need to understand where your people stand, how they think.”

“We have always chosen the oldest amongst us for the position. The new Voice comes from another tribe, found deeper in Silva. He said Mother spoke to him and told him that he could help us through our trying times. Our tribe is made up of young Satyrs now, the humans have hunted our eldest, leaving only the young behind. The Voice arrived in our darkest moment when our previous leader was taken.” she says with conflicting emotions.

There is something strange going on with this fella that she won’t talk about, however I shouldn't dive into their internal politics. I’ll let the matter drop for now, at least until I meet him. He did foretell my coming so he can’t be completely useless.

“We should cook this meat and head out.” I say reluctantly.

“Agreed, we should skewer a small amount over a fire and be quick about it. The smells will attract unwanted attention.” Her words concern me.

“Attention, from what exactly? Predators?” I feel the hilt of my new blade.

“Cooking flesh wafts on the wind Seth. I would avoid it if I could rely on Mother’s provisions. Which I cannot these days and I’m famished.” I nod in agreement. I’ve only eaten water leaves since arriving. Which, I assume like celery, consumes more calories than provided.

Piia, now covered in hardened healing salve, goes about collecting dry wood in the vicinity. I assist her, working in silence, until we have collected a small pile.

The Satyr rummages through the grass, pulling back clumps and lifting individual blades while keeping her distance from the Esca. “Are you looking for more kindling?” I ask, belly rumbling aggressively. She holds up a flat palm to me and keeps searching. I’ll be patient and observe, which is difficult when you’re starving.

Eventually finding her quarry, she lifts a hard black ball very slowly off the ground. I walk over to inspect her find.

“Careful human, we don’t alarm the Pyhera until we need to.” She says while carefully moving towards our small campfire. The Pyhera looks like a segmented sphere of black coral, with orange spots on each segment. As Piia approaches the kindling, the sphere unravels revealing an alien creature.

I suppose in this world I’m an alien, but my brain hasn’t accepted that I'm not standing on Earth just yet.

The creature's long snout resembles an anteater with long cat-like whiskers or antennae sprouting out from under the coral shell and covering all 360 degrees. When unfurled it fits perfectly on Piia’s hand, now searching the edges of this fleshy cliff with snout and whiskers.

I peek under the shell, the light orange underbelly resembles an ancient tortoise's neck, very wrinkly. I can’t see any moving legs or limbs.

“I’ve never seen a Pyhera before, can I hold it?” I ask like a child wanting to hold the new family dog and not some alien armadillo.

“No. Now stand back, this is dangerous.” I grudgingly moved back. Once I’m a safe distance away, Piia slowly moves to the assembled wood pile and starts shaking her hand containing the critter. It forms back into a defensive ball and Piia launches it towards the wood like a baseball pitcher.

A trail of smoke marks the path of the Pyhera, it crashes into the wood and fire erupts.

I jump back at the sudden combustion.

“Holy hell fire, what just happened?”

“Pyhera’s shells start fires when they’re aggravated.” I understand why she wanted me to step back now.

“Isn’t the shell protection enough?”

“Not from some of the dangers of Silva.” She explains.

“Did your tribe teach you how to survive in Silva? I mean out in the deep woods like now.”

"Yes, the tribe has lived here for generations. You see some Satyrs live in grasslands and even the mountains. Our young are taught skills and knowledge they'll need to survive." Piia says with a renewed positive attitude, she's proud of her people's way. The small fire blazes before us, the pleasant smell of burning wood fills the air.

"I would love to learn those skills. Being able to live out here would be incredible. I spent my whole life living in cities, the only things we get taught are how to earn and spend money. A real emphasis on the spending part."

“Well considering you're a hairless man, shelter and fire should be a priority. Finding a vagabond tree can be difficult without Mother’s guidance, so start by getting into her good graces” - She says with a wink. - “Fire is easy enough with all the dry wood on the forest floor. Searching for Pyhera is the challenge.

They like to hide in moist under bush or rotting wood. Sometimes you can see steam coming from a log, that will mean several are in there.”

She seems to enjoy lecturing a human.

“Once you have found a Pyhera, very slowly pick them up, without disturbing the sensory hairs sticking out their shells. If they start to smoke or feel hot, just place them back down. Setting on fire is a last resort for them. Another method is to shepherd one towards your firewood.” She says this with a cheeky grin.

I kiss my teeth at the joke. Piia breaks into her infectious laugh. I knew it, it is the same as rolling your eyes.

“You learn fast, maybe you will survive my home.”

I take the bear meat out ready to cook. Unfortunately the loot system hasn’t prepared the meat in bite sized chunks or a tasty season, don’t look a gift bear in the mouth.

The only blade we have is the sword, at least it’s not covered in blood.

It takes a few minutes to slice the meat as the blade isn’t very sharp. We make a few skewers with sticks and place them over the fire, storing the remaining slices for another dinner.

I inspect the blade while the meat cooks, my eyes returning to the strange symbol on the pommel.

“Piia, do you know anything about this symbol?” I hand her the blade. She stares at it for some time before shaking her head.

“Daemons were always part of the scary stories we were told as children around the campfire. Our elders taught us to fear their wrath, though my people have had very few encounters with them. I know little of their culture.” She says while passing the sword back to me.

“What do you know?” Those horrors intrigue me, I must be very unlucky to meet them on my first day in this world.

“They’re an uncivilised race. They are meant to have no arts, which makes that symbol very strange. Their only culture is war, which they mostly enact amongst themselves. I have never heard of them organising between their kind like we witnessed yesterday.” She says this with worry.

“I heard one of the imps call the tall Daemon ‘Opio’, then I looted an Opio pendant from his body.” I retrieve the pendant from my storage and hold the gunmetal jewellery out for her to see. Piia warily stares at me holding the dangling pendant.

“What’s wrong? Have you seen this before?” I ask, feeling a little self-conscious of her intense look.

“You can understand the Daemons? How?” Piia yells the question.

I hadn’t even considered the question. I understand Piia perfectly and she’s Satyr. Another mythical creature from a story, therefore understanding a Daemon isn’t that alarming to me.

“Answer me Seth.” Bitter mistrust was evident on her tongue.

“I’m not sure, I don’t even know how I can understand you.” I truthfully admit.

“We are speaking Silvic, that’s how. Not that Daemon poison they spit with corrupt tongues.”

“It must be an ability I got, a power from becoming a Shepherd. I would need to communicate with all manner of life to create my flock.”

“You would have Daemons in your flock?”

“That’s not what I mean. I am just saying the class gave me gifts and knowledge. Like reading the runes.” I was chatting rubbish now. I knew the Shepherd class only allowed me to tame cattle.

“How is it we spoke before you gained your class then?” She interrogated further.

“My people call it English, yours call it Silvic. They must be the same.”

Piia seemed sceptical of my poor argument.

“Piia I have never seen a Daemon until today, you saw that four-eyed bastard try to slash my throat out.” I reasoned with false confidence. She eventually let out a sigh and took the pendant from my hand.

“These are very bad signs, just seeing Daemons deep in Silva must mean something. Maybe Mother’s Voice will know. He is from another tribe.” I’m sceptical of him, however Piia has a point. He may have experience with them.

Piia picks up a partially charred skewer and bites into the meat, juices dribble down her chin. The smells were tantalising to my empty stomach, my mouth salivating with anticipation.

“They’re done and delicious. We should eat these on the trek. The smell of fire and meat might have already caught something's attention.” I grab three skewers for myself and finish one before I’ve fully stood up. Piia stamps on the fire and points to the remaining ashes and embers.

“Piss on that human, I know your kind likes to mark their territory.” She says with more humour in her eye.

“When you put it like that it seems rude, isn’t this Mother’s territory? I want to be in her good graces, remember?”

“I saw you piss against several trees yesterday without hesitation and Mother would prefer her forest not to burn down. I can look away if you’re shy.” She says and turns off, beginning her march back to the highway of Daemon blood and destruction.

“Just watch for Esca.” She shouts back to me.

I quickly go about my business, not wanting to be left behind. Then an idea forms. Looking over my shoulder towards the vagabond tree, I see all the Sana flowers have wilted and died, except one. I jog over and pluck it off the trunk, inspecting its beautiful petals I think to myself, ‘Loot’. The flower disappears. I look around the glowing forest.

“Thank you Mother.”

I rush after my new Satyr friend.