Check – noun, In chess and similar games, a condition that occurs when a player’s king is under threat of capture on the opponent’s next turn. While a player is in check, they must use their turn to make a move that takes them out of check.

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???: “What’re the goats called again?”

???: “Jiyagi.”

???: “And why are we following the Ji-ya-gi?”

Walking side-by-side along one of the many muddy roads that wound through the wasteland was an old man and a young, bright-eyed child. Alistair chuckled as his grandchild carefully enunciated the name of the monster, reaching down to pat them on the head; his other hand stroked the stubble on his chin, his graying hair blowing in the breeze as they walked.

Alistair: “Jiyagi follow the paths of bigger monsters to scrounge for scraps. As long as we keep following ‘em, we know exactly where the most dangerous monster in the area is.”

The child nodded astutely. Dressed in a hand-sewn tunic and a small cloth poncho, Jackie had bright red eyes and a reddish-purple tint to their dark hair, clearly taking after their mother. They were shockingly articulate for their age, but Alistair had quickly come to appreciate their enthusiastic curiosity—answering their endless stream of questions helped him to sort through his thoughts, and Jackie was quick to point out any contradictions in his answers. He’d already made more than a couple small improvements to their daily routine based on Jackie’s questioning.

Jackie: “Isn’t going to the big monster a bad thing?”

Alistair: “Knowing where it is is worth the risk. An’ besides, if it decides to turn our way, the Jiyagi will come running back first, so we’ll know we need to run or hide in advance.”

Jackie: “Ohh…”

A soft laugh came from behind the pair. Walking just a few paces back from them was a second pair of travelers, representatives of the generation between Alistair’s and Jackie’s; to put it another way, it was Jackie’s parents.

The source of the laugh was their mother. Jacqueline was fit and muscular, but on the shorter side; dressed in ripped, flared trousers and a grey shirt with a lace-up neck, she bore the same distinctive eyes and hair as her child.

Hearing her laugh, the man beside her gave her a sidelong glance and sighed, shaking his head with a dry smile. “How I wish I could get as excited about monsters as those two.”

Loid was a tall and lanky man, his skin pale and his hair short and black. He was dressed simply—black trousers and a white shirt under a collared brown jacket. A pair of makeshift glasses rested crookedly on his nose, which he adjusted frequently.

At Loid’s complaint, Jackie spun around, walking backwards with their hands on their hips. “Monster stuff is important!”

Alistair: “Aye, ya gotta know how not to get eaten.”

Jackie: “Yeah!”

Jacqueline: “Yeah, Loid, it’s important.” She nudged his side with her elbow, snickering.

Accepting his fate, Loid simply sighed again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m glad we have a little monster expert with us.”

Rather than accept his praise, Jackie stopped and shook their head, raising a finger to wag at Loid. “I’m not an ex-pert yet. Al still needs to teach me.”

Turning to look back at them, Alistair stopped a short ways ahead of Jackie. “I’ll teach ya plenty more stuff if ya call me ‘Grandpa’.”

Ignoring him, Jackie turned their gaze to Jacqueline instead. “Mom, tell Al he has to teach me.”

Jacqueline held a hand in front of her mouth to mask her rising laughter. “Well, you heard them, Al. Better get teaching.”

Alistair sighed dramatically, shooting a defeated glance to Loid. “Guess neither of us can win with this kid, huh?”

Jackie huffed triumphantly as they swung back around, continuing their march down the mud road. Alistair waited until they reached him to resume walking as well.

The road wound through twisting valleys, flanked on either side by rolling hills, mounds of trash—ancient plastics and rusted metals—and the occasional ruin, some crumbled or blown into disparate bits, others standing ominously intact.

Between the mountains of trash and stone structures was a thick sea of grasses and ferns, some patches a sickly grey color, others a horrid neon green, and further others a deep red. Poisonous, all of them—a barrier that kept most of the wasteland’s denizens confined to the roads and ruins, Humans included.

The only other thing that rose from the sea of sickly grass were the bloodred willows. Their branches stretched out to the sky, long and jagged; their leaves hung limply from the ends of each branch, flowing in the wind. The bark of the trees was crimson red, and it even formed shapes resembling drops of coagulated blood, as if the trees themselves were melting and had been frozen in time.

The wasteland was an inhospitable place for Human life—doubly so for a child.

As the sun peaked high in the midday sky above them, the quartet came to a peculiar structure. A great marble pillar had fallen across the road, split in half at the center such that it left a thin crevice where someone could squeeze through. Just beside the path, a stone foundation stretched out, lined with the bases of several more pillars, the length of each either having fallen another direction or simply being missing entirely. The foundation seemed to extend forward from a larger building which had long-since completely collapsed, leaving only its front porch accessible.

It was here that the group stopped to take a rest. After a careful inspection to ensure nothing else had taken up residence before them, a small fire was lit just before the collapsed building, and food was prepared.

As the other three stood around the fire, Alistair stood a ways away from them, keeping watch over the road as he scarfed down his share of their rations.

Jackie: “Mom, can we practice fighting some more?”

After tearing a bite out of their share of beetle meat, Jackie turned to Jacqueline with shining, earnest eyes. In response, she tilted her head, tapping her chin with a finger.

Jacqueline: “Hmm… well, maybe for a little bit, but... We can’t have you getting tired. We still have a long walk ahead of us.”

Jackie: “How long are we gonna keep walking?” They pouted.

Loid: “Well, we don’t want to fall too far behind the herd.” Loid interjected, raising a finger as he spoke.

Jackie: “Oh, right… the Ji… Ji-ya-gi.”

Loid: “Good work.” He patted them on the head. “Plus, we need to find better shelter before nightfall. We don’t know how far we’ll have to walk before we find a good ruin.”

Disappointed, Jackie lowered their gaze. “At this rate, I’ll never be as strong as Mom or Al…”

Jacqueline chuckled and placed a hand on their shoulder. “Aw, cheer up, Jackie. Tell you what, if we find a good spot before its too dark, we can practice as much as you want.”

Loid: “You’re a bit young to be worrying about that, anyways…”

Loid joked with a dry tone, but Jackie turned to him earnestly, gripping their food in both hands.

Jackie: “Nuh-uh! I need to get strong so I can help you guys fight!”

Loid: “Oh, really? Think you can take on a monster on your own?”

Jackie paused, looking down for a moment as they seriously considered the question. “Um… Probably not.”

Loid chuckled. “You have to wait until you’re taller to help us out. Then, you can fight all you want.”

Jackie nodded intently. “How tall do I need to be?”

Loid: “Hmm… at least as tall as me.”

Jackie: “But Mom is shorter than you! Why can she fight?”

Jacqueline: “You either need to be as tall as Loid or as old as me.”

Jackie huffed in frustration. “Well, how old are you?”

Jacqueline: “You shouldn’t ask ladies about that.~”

Listening in on their banter from afar, Alistair couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was then that, just for the briefest moment, his senses caught something strange.

Immediately, he froze time around him on reflex. This was the secret power that only Alistair possessed, and the secret to his long life and combat prowess. He called it Recess—his little break from the world and from the passage of time.

When he entered Recess, not only did the world around him freeze, but his body did, as well. The only thing that remained active was his mind, though he’d discovered that, in this state, his mind could wander beyond the confines of his physical body, and it was able to borrow his body’s senses.

Of course, if he wandered beyond where his body’s senses could reach, all he would find was a white void. What he was focused on now, however, was not his vision, nor his hearing or his sense of touch—it was his sense of smell.

Death.

After a few moments, he realized that was the whiff he’d caught. It was the scent of death—no, to be precise, it was the scent of something that had died, of a corpse.

Where had it come from? It couldn’t be in the ruin or their immediate vicinity; they’d checked the area well, and they’d’ve smelled it already if that were the case. No, the smell was coming from upwind. As he retained the ability feel while in Recess, he could tell that a light breeze was coming from beyond the ruin, on the other side of the great fallen pillar.

The source must be further down the road.