Instantly, Zov'ha gasped and pulled away. The other man had not noticed her, he was busy petting Efiros, trying to find the smallest joy in the suffering that he had been through.   

He looked around when Zov’ha stood up disingenuously. ‘He is my brother,’ he mumbled. ‘We were raided. Everyone else is dead.’ 

When Zov’ha did not reply, the man continued, ‘There is a safehouse we can go to. It’s not very far away. I need to take him there.’

Handing over her bag and lance to the frail-looking Calcar, Zov’ha effortlessly picked up the injured man.

‘Follow me,’ he said, pointing northwards. ‘My name is Sinovan.’ 

Zov’ha nodded, and the four of them carefully made their way into the night. 

Their pace being slow, Zov’ha, Efiros, and the two Calcar brothers reached the safehouse at the break of dawn. The smouldering cottage ruins were far behind them, and the crimson fog had begun to recede. The air smelled heavily of petrichor, even though it had not rained. The freshness of the forest had returned with the first light, which had also awakened the birds that cawed and chirped, bringing a sort of calm and tenderness to their surroundings. 

Sinovan scurried ahead to fish out medical supplies from the safehouse, while Zov’ha carried the injured man to a haystack by the shed. Efiros had taken a detour, away from the safehouse, probably in search of some scent he had caught.

Taking off her mask and cloak, Zov’ha examined the man’s wounds properly. The crystal mesh still clung to his skin like a thin foil. A single word resounded in her head — “Autoichorium”. She was not sure where she had heard it before, but it seemed related.

Were there people whose blood contained this stuff? They existed in her past, somewhere in the fragments of her memory. Would they have been behind the attack? No... They were far away from here. Too many broken memories — piecing them together would be unfathomable, at least for now.

She felt the urge to prod the wound again, but resisted. Her index finger, which she had used to feel the crystals before, now tingled. Examining her finger tip, she thought she saw something squirm between the furrows of her skin.

Sinovan reappeared with a medical kit and some emergency rations, breaking her stream of thoughts. He tossed a packet to Zov’ha, which looked like some sort of nutrition bar. Nodding in acknowledgement, she unwrapped it to find a hard, chewy bar, biting into which was tedious but scrumptious. 

‘It’s been three months now,’ Sinovan said, setting down the medical supplies. We have been raided twice before by the same scoundrels! Only, it has never been so… catastrophic.’   

Sitting beside him on a wooden barrel, Zov’ha looked up from her meal at Sinovan, her grey eyes meeting his. He had taken off his mask, which revealed dark red skin and narrow brown eyes. The hair on his head was long and wavy. Four horns, black and blunt, grew out of his head; there were two more protruding from his chin. His arms and legs bore similar spikes, but smaller. He wore a farmer’s outfit, long lengths of fur and cloth stitched together at the neck, that cascaded down to his knees. 

‘The last two times they came,’ he continued, assiduously mending his brother’s wounds, ‘they threatened us with weapons, similar to the one you’re carrying there.’ Zov’ha glanced at the lance by her side. She only just realised that the bone blade had slits within its ragged edges, into which were embedded thin black slates. ‘We realised they were no ordinary weapons. We had never seen them in these parts. Look at this wound, some artefact of the Divine Purge I presume, leaving that grainy stuff like that. My family never thought those raiders would come back, so we carried on. And then they came and burned the place down and killed everyone!’ 

Zov’ha wanted to tell him that he was really brave, that few would have had the courage to carry on after such a harrowing experience… but she remained taciturn and unable to express herself. 

The first rays of sunlight escaped through the trees, illuminating the little hut in gold. The clearing around them was replete with tall, purple grass that grew in ball-like clumps, dancing in the cool breeze. Yellow, thumb-sized blossoms dotted the landscape, and creepers with large, velvety leaves snaked around the periphery of the edifice. When the sun had lit up most of the clearing, Sinovan finished his medical administration and sat down on the floor near the haystack, rubbing his feet and looking up at Zov’ha. 

‘You aren’t much of a talker, are you?’ he let out a nervous laugh. Zov’ha only stared back, not sure if he wanted a reply. ‘Ah… it may as well be. I believe we owe you our gratitude. I wouldn’t have been able to carry Segran all the way back here. You are very strong… and kind.’ He reached for a packet of ration, unwrapped it, and took a bite. ‘I may be able to send a message for help from the comm station inside the safehouse, but I don’t think anyone will come in time,’ he declared, now eating more energetically. ‘I’m planning to head to Aeroz. Were you heading there yourself? We can rest here and travel there together, if you’re keen?’

Being caught off guard, Zov’ha choked on some food and coughed and sputtered until Sinovan handed over a flask of water. When she felt better she stared plainly at him. Words failed to form in her head — she wondered if she even knew how to speak. It had been so long since she had met another human. 

Sinovan looked at her quizzically. ‘Are you from the mountains?’ he ventured. She nodded again, swallowing the last morsel of her ration. ‘You look like a Poban, but not entirely. What are you?’ asked Sinovan, only then realising that it may have been a bit too personal. ‘No, I apologise. You don’t have to tell me. Do you at least have a name?’ 

Strangely she did remember what her name was. Or what it sounded like. ‘Zov.. ha… ra?’ she fumbled, not being able to recall it properly, ‘I.. am… Zovhara.’

The motors of the drift-wagon hummed dully in the silence of dawn as it lazily followed Sinovan and Zov’ha through the woods. The heads of tall grass and reed bumped against its underside, producing a hissing sound that Zov’ha enjoyed. Segran had been heavily sedated and was sleeping peacefully within the drift-wagon, moaning unintelligibly every now and then. 

Having lived on farmland for as long as he could remember, Sinovan had learnt to treat, dress, and stitch wounds. The crystalline mesh, which he had carefully scraped out from the gash on Segran’s chest, had been placed in a tiny spice box, which he intended to hand over as evidence to the office of the Knights of Evalon — one of the seven confederacies of Aeroz that looked after the city’s defences.

Chuffed with the job he had done to mend his brother’s bruises he had decided to take the quickest route across the plains to reach an Emergency Care Centre at Aeroz. And so the trio had set off after a short rest at the shed. 

An hour after daybreak, the woods spat them out onto rolling plains with rocky hills that were barely covered with brush. A bashful clump of trees poked out from the horizon, but other than the woods behind them, the land was barren. Zov’ha could not help feeling exposed and watched. Years spent in the shadows of the Ire’zol Mountains or under trees had made her feel safe. This was daunting yet… exciting.  

Sinovan pointed west — a day’s walk would bring them to a shallow lake, then their route would gradually turn north again. They came across Efiros somewhere in the woods — he had been busy exploring the area, and was now covered in twigs and leaves and mud and whatnot. Curious about the new environment he stood up on his hind legs, sniffing the warm air and pawing the front of his nose. 

After an uneventful journey across the plains, and a quick stop for lunch, the travellers picked up their pace. By dusk they could discern the surface of the shallow lake — a thin line under the setting sun, shimmering in gold and crimson, the shadows of boulders creating black pillars that waltzed back and forth as a last performance before the curtain fell. Their path ahead was narrow and snaked through still and shallow pools adorned with water lilies. Gargantuan boulders stood upright like petrified giants, watching them as they passed by. Silvery shrub spotted the landscape from which came the croaks of toads and the chitter of crickets. 

The lake was so large that by night they had traversed less than half its length. They had no option but to camp in the open. Far from the Hell’s Teeth mountains now, the crimson fog would not reach them this far. A full moon bathed everything in a cool white light. The clear water of the lake mirrored the night sky that was speckled with stars.

A twinkling half-circle throbbed dully amongst the constellations in the west — the ruins of Orbita Cygnus, the dilapidated orbital city that was believed to have once been a great civilization of an evolved species of humans. It had been Zov’ha’s guide for the many years she had spent in the wilderness. She had felt like there was someone watching over her. It was her temple. A shrine to a nameless deity.  

Just as they were about to set up camp by the lake shore, Sinovan heard the low hum of vehicles approaching from a distance. He steered the drift-wagon behind a gathering of enormous boulders and turned off the engine, which caused it to softly land on the muddy ground. Motioning for Zov’ha to hide in the shrubs with him, he hissed, ‘Quickly, now! We cannot be seen!’. 

Zov’ha acquiesced and followed. Producing a shrill whistle from between her upper lip and tongue, she beckoned Efiros who came to her obediently. The three of them sat huddled as the sound of vehicles neared. Confused, Zov’ha tapped Sinovan on the shoulder who sat so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body. 

‘Raiders…’ he whispered, turning towards her. Under the moonlight, Zov’ha was magnificent to behold. Her grey eyes were like two half-crescents, shining bright like that of a feline beast. Painted tattoos on her face glowed dully and her skin glistened as if oiled. Her hair, though ruffled and unkempt, had a glossy lustre. Something about her was… unearthly. If Sinovan was taken aback, he did not show it. ‘I’m just being cautious,’ he continued. ‘There are a lot of unsavoury folks out here.’