I wake to foreign smells invading my nostrils, they are mostly repulsive. Death, blood, smoke, muk and piss. Underneath these overpowering reminders of yesterday's discoveries, are the pleasant scents of cooked food, my stomach rumbles with hunger.

I feel dirty and damaged, the aches of fresh wounds throb from severely damaged tissue. My right hand is completely numb, I try to clench my fist but find it barely responding. I squirm about, attempting to get a view of the damage and also feel out the rest of my body, a fresh stench kicks up from the disturbance and makes me gag.

The fight, along with vivid nightmares, has left a thick layer of sweaty grime and body odour on every inch of my skin. My dry eyes still sting from the smokey air and it requires a battle with my crusty eyelids simply to open them. I discover that I’m cocooned in a bedroll inside a Daemon's tent.

I want to stay in my nest. But the body makes demands I can’t ignore forever, water, toilet, coffee, food, clean then more rest.

I hope this world has coffee.

Single handedly unravelling the cocoon, I am transformed into a smelly broken man. I inspect my wounds and discover Piia has used bark wrap on them, unfortunately without the Sana flower.

She did say it was rare for Mother to offer the blessing to her most devout followers, my pharisaic nature barely touches the believers spectrum. Well, that will have to change, I’ll venerate that lady till she gets a restraining order on me.

The bark wrap works to numb the pain, mostly. I hope it stops infections, otherwise Piia has rubbed a ton of bacteria into the open cut. I shouldn’t doubt my companion, she’s a hardened survivor.

The palm of my right hand is covered in a two inch thick wrap, explaining the paralysed sensation I have been having. My right cheek is also stiff, I feel the crusty scab of bark wrap below my eye where I almost blinded myself with my sword.

I see the pommel of my Xiphos amongst my gear, the memory of the runic symbol glowing in the fire before I yanked it out. A very hasty decision that saved my life and gave me third-degree burns that I will carry into my old age, if I can survive long enough.

I will take those scars over an amputated limb, though without the Sana’s special properties, infections aren’t off the table.

The tent door flaps in the wind, revealing a glimpse of Piia stirring a large pot over a fire. We need to get away from this place before Daemons or hungry animals find us. My slow mind, still half asleep, only now notices my limited possessions are neatly laid out next to my makeshift bed.

Bear poncho, Xiphos and sword belt. All completely covered in blood. Another chore to add to the list.

I sit up intending to dress and head out, when the mound of bedrolls beside me moves.

I roll towards my sword like a trained soldier, however I am just an idiot from Earth and roll completely onto my bad arm.

“God damm!” The pain shoots through my limb, making my head swim.

I writhe around on the floor until an exhale of hot breath washes over me.

I stop in place and slowly crane my neck up.

A gigantic mound of pink-grey leathery flesh fills my entire vision. Two shiny spheres of darkness stare into my eyes.

The hippopotamus snorts another wet breath, showering me with snot and general nostril goop. I freeze, unable to reach for my sword or bailout of the tent. I am very aware of how dangerous these animals are, annually killing hundreds of people.

The hippo’s great jaws open wide in a lazy yawn, revealing its terrifying ivory tusks. Closing its maws, it leans in and rubs rough whiskery skin against my face. A rune appears in my peripheral vision, I semi-focus on the symbol and read the foreign language.

Tamed. I tamed a hippo.

Using my good hand, I carefully reach out to feel along the wide jaws of my new companion.

“This is incredible.” I croak.

Those beady eyes stare deep into mine, like a lost puppy that found its way home.

My hands continue inspecting until I reach under its muzzle. The hippo snorts, mouth gaping slightly and adorable tiny ears flutter with pleasure.

“Ah ha, you like to be scratched then.”

My hippo pushes against my touch, clearly loving every second of it.

“As the latest and only current standing member of my flock, I promote you to second in charge. Such a distinguished position can’t be held by anyone without a name.”

What shall I call my new companion? Looking underneath, I look for clear signs of gender, with no luck. I slowly stand, my hippo presses its snout into me, offering support. Its large barrel shaped body looks immense, even from above.

“Dam them, you poor thing.” A thatch work of deep scars covers the top and behind, fresh and old mixed, illustrating a life of brutal treatment. An outline of worn, callused leathery skin surrounds its neck, where a collar had been attached.

It was a pack animal, used to pull those overturned carriages I had seen in the camp. I look into those obsidian eyes and they search mine as well. I see an awareness, this is an intelligent animal, I am sure of it.

“You will never be treated so harshly again, Crook.” I smile and scratch its muzzle again, ears fluttering in response. I guess they like the name and every shepherd does need their Crook.

Crook sounds a bit odd.

“How about Cane?” Cane’s ears flutter in response. “Well you just love everything I have to say.” I look down again and this time I am certain he’s a male, and very confident he likes the new name.

The tent flap is drawn back.

“You're awake and standing! What a resilient sapling you turned out to be. You will feel weak for a while from the blood loss, but that burn is most worrying. It will need redressing daily.” Piia’s beaming smile softens my aches further.

“I am nothing without your healing knowledge and friendship. Seriously, I would have died a few times without you Piia.” I return her glowing smile. We share a happy moment until Cane snorts loudly, drawing Piias attention, and her smile dissolves.

“This Daemonic being clings to you like sap. I tried pushing it out of the tent, but it weighs more than a ferrum tree.” Piia scowls at the hippo, clearly unaware of our new friendship.

“Piia this is Cane, I tamed him with an ability or skill. I’m not too sure how it works. He is definitely friendly though. Poor guy has had a tough life and just wanted a buddy.” Cane’s ears flutter at my words, I doubt he understands what I am saying. He must be picking up on my tone and positive vibes.

“I would not trust any Daemon spawn, they are created to spread chaos and corruption.” Now it is my turn to scowl. I understand Piia grew up with stories of Daemonic creatures, she was practically conditioned to fear and avoid them. Cane was only a tool or work animal in their eyes, during World War 2 you wouldn't label every chicken on a German farm a Nazi.

“Cane is fine Piia, you said it yourself that I would need a flock to convince your tribe that I am a Shepherd.” She frowns at me with concern.

“But this thing is from the purple lands, it reeks of taint and corruption.” Piia pinches her nose dramatically.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not from these lands either, and I smell even worse.” I retort, starting to feel irritated by her silly argument.

She mulls that over for a few seconds then nods her head.

“Let us eat and begone from this place, we have lingered for far too long.” She abruptly turns and heads out of the military tent, the waft of cooking reignites my hunger.

I collect and don my possessions, Cane sniffing at the bloody layer covering each item.

“Cane you will soon discover, that I am no ordinary shepherd.” I didn’t want to openly admit that most of the blood was mine. Who knew shepherding was such a dangerous career choice?

I feel extremely dirty and disgusting, I sniff my bear poncho and grimace. I promise myself no matter what happens today, whether I teleport to another world or I’m attacked by a T-rex, I will wash myself and my clothes before the sun fades tonight.

Stumbling slowly through the tent flaps, a strong wind ruffles my attire and whips through the camp. I look towards the Daemon’s 15th Lux flag fluttering in the sky, it stands strong and poorly reflects the dead battalion it symbolises. The smell of conflict rides the winds deep into Silva, I have no doubt we are not the only ones aware of the mass death in the clearing.

Past the flag are several large orbiting spheres in the sky.

Planets, three giant planets. Their proximity to each other is minuscule, in scales of space distance, for them to be so large and visible without the need for a telescope. A swirling purple and blue gas giant with twisting violent storms.

A rich green and blue dwarf, in comparison to the gas giant, reflects Earth’s image. The final planet has an asteroid ring and contrasting stripes of colour. The ecosystems and climate there must change at very vivid lines in the land, or it has a strange atmosphere. I’m mesmerised by the wonders of this universe, so visible and beautiful, leaving me lost for words or thought.

Until my subconscious does the maths and kicks in my startled mind with a hard boot of reality. I am in a different world. I was still denying the facts, or at least being distracted by life threatening events that stopped me from considering my situation.

How the hell do I get home? Dazed, I stumble over to the cooking food.

Finally reaching Piia, I collapse in a heap next to the boiling pot emitting foreign aromas. Cane dramatically buckles next to me, forming a large pink and grey potato pillow for me to lean against. Is he trying to support me through this emotional moment or did he just mimic my wounded body's struggles?

“Let us break our fast before the shadows grow longer.” Piia says while spooning stew into wooden bowls. I look into the beautiful blue sky, back towards the alien planets, and only now comprehend it’s the afternoon.

“Did I sleep all morning?”

“Yes, you desperately needed rest. Did you fight an army of Daemon’s to sustain so many injuries?”

“It was this large dinosaur with claws and armoured plates in its limbs.” I shudder at the memory of its burning red eyes and bloody teeth.

“A Verox, one of Mother’s hunters. You can tell me the story later. We must be in the trees where She can watch over us.” She scoffs and drinks the stew between words, hardly breathing.

I follow suit. The food is fairly bland, my stomach and tongue taste only the fulfilment of satisfying a fatigued body making each mouthful wonderful.

“What are these vegetables?” I inspect the chopped chunks of blues and reds floating in the mossy waters.

“Another time, we leave now.” She snuffs out the fire with a pail of water. So much for my leisurely morning of coffee and more rest. I use Cane to push myself up, the food having worked wonders in boosting my energy. It’s not all about me and Piia now, I need to start thinking about my flock's needs.

“Is there any food left for Cane?” I ask while she wraps more vegetables into a marginally clean napkin. She answers by pointing behind me,

“He can forage his own food.” Hoisting a plundered grey leather satchel over her shoulder, Piia stores the wrapped food away. The Satyr suddenly begins a strange ritual of rubbing her mossy fur, disturbing the speckles of Mother’s light inside, and flicking her hands out in a whipping motion.

All the while muttering under her breath in a satanic possessed fashion.