Flames of the Son

Spirit Animals, Episode 1

The scent of man swept through Hemdom Forest, gradually fading as the sun fell toward the horizon.

Zan sniffed at the air, his animal skin cloak whipping up in the evening chill. They're still here, the boy thought, kneeling to inspect the tracks beneath a moss-covered hill overlooking the river. Two of them, pursued by many. He kicked at the mud and growled, stabbing uselessly with his fish-spear. “Vara, the scent ends at the river!”

A pair of blue moon eyes appeared momentarily in the darkness of the brush before a shadow detached itself and advanced on the boy. As black as the night sky, the shadow became a mighty wolf as it came into view, and Zan embraced her with open arms. Vara whined and licked some of the filth from the boy's cheek, then turned to face the river. Zan could feel she still had the scent and wasted no time climbing onto her back.

Vara stood over twice Zan's height, but she made it easy by kneeling. She had even nudged him up there herself the first time, to escape a hungry bear. That much he could still remember. Her hair was thick and coarse, but warm and strong enough to bear Zan's weight if he needed a handhold. Once he was in position, Vara loped off with ease, spanning the river in a single leap.

There was no place Zan felt safer than atop his lifelong animal companion—when they move as one.

The sudden lurch forced Zan to clutch tightly to Vara's fur, but they had done this countless times before so it made no difference. They had already spanned half a mile with just a handful of leaps; trees and branches swirling by in a chaotic blur. Zan's fox-eared hood flapped wildly in the wind as the wolf surged forward—his hair and eyes a blaze of gold inside the beams of light cutting through the canopy of the forest. Normally, the boy would sing or howl from the excitement of it all, but there were intruders in his forest—his home.

Not just humans, either.

The trail brought Zan and Vara to a clearing where the river drained into an overgrown valley. The canopy blocked out the evening sun completely, but songbirds could still be heard in the darkness. The boy's eyes betrayed him in the abyss, but Zan could still feel the overpowering foreign scents through Vara.

Not like the flowers and moss and wood of the forest, no. This was the fishy scent of a bog—some wetland far from Hemdom. Vara could smell the details, down to the type of clothing this intruder might be wearing or even what they ate today. She could even smell when Zan got sick. The other smell was more off-putting, though. One which spoke of cold and meat; the smell of a barren place Vara hadn't encountered before.

Ice and bone, Zan thought, then he felt a wave of reassurance wash over him from Vara. They heard something stir in the dark, causing Vara to growl. “Stop hiding please!”

When the darkness did not respond, Vara tensed up and snarled, ripping the air with a barrage of aggressive barks. Zan joined in. Though, his roars paled in comparison and caused his face to flush from the effort. There was a whimper in the dark, then, hushed whispers followed by silence. Now, there was a new smell—fear. Zan pulled his hood down over his head and held his fish-spear at the ready.

“Please!” a shrill voice cried out from the dark. “Please! Know peace, I beg you—”

A second, rougher voice rose up to interrupt, “Fool! Now they know we're here!” There was a scuffle in the abyss, then a shape fell forward into the boy's still-adjusting sight.

Zan burst into laughter; echoing off the river and ancient, oaken trunks of Hemdom. “You smell weird, Lizardman!”

“Watch your tongue, Boy!” the rough voice called back.

“Please!” the other voice whined, “I-I'm not with him!”

A sudden light flared up across the overgrown valley, exposing the pair—fire.

The Lizardman was there, in all his green-scaled majesty, just as Zan suspected. Behind him was a creature he had never laid eyes on before. Zan had often spied on men when their battles got a little too close to the forest, but this man looked different than any of those. He had sallow skin, tusks like a wild boar, and much more body hair than usual. It wasn't until he felt the smell of fear from Vara again that Zan noticed how terrified they both were. A pair of scared bunnies, he thought, my roar is getting good!

Zan almost forgot about the source of the light.

When he turned to look, he saw half a dozen men emerging from the brush wielding lit torches and clubs. Vara tensed up again; growling. Soldiers, the boy knew, each of them bearing the the mark of their pack leader on leather armor. Their half-capes were purple silk, trimmed black, and bound with gold thread—also bearing the mark.

One of them stepped forward—the alpha, Zan assumed. “Step aside, boy! These two are fugitives of King Ponos!”

Zan felt his face flush again, this time from frustration. “I dunno who that is, but you all gotta leave!” Vara snarled to underscore his point, positioning herself between them.

One of the smaller men approached his Alpha and whispered. The leader shoved him away and stepped forward, shouting, “So what if he is Bound? He's just a child!” The Alpha spat. “You there—Boy! Come with us and your wolf will be kept safe, by honor of Commander and King.” The man cocked his head, muttering something to their Beta, but Zan could still hear. “Commander Skapi would love if we returned with three Bonders.” A crooked smile spread out beneath the darkness of the man's leather cap.

Zan bared his own toothy smile and shouted, “stay behind me Lizardman!” just as Vara leaped toward the torch-bearers. The Reptilian replied with a guttural scoff.

The first man fell with ease under Vara's momentum; the second with a thwack to the head from the blunt end of Zan's spear. Vara bit down on the first man's arm, shaking him ferociously, but Zan could feel that she wasn't even biting hard enough to break skin let alone bones—like she could be. The remaining three men froze up with shock as their leader shouted commands in vain. Vara continued to shake her prey until he fell unconscious, then set her piercing blue eyes on their Alpha.

There's that smell again, Zan thought. “If you're afraid, then you should just go!” Vara crouched low and growled, slowly advancing as Zan raised the stone tip of his fish-spear and continued to bark. “Go! Go! Go!”

“Confirmed!” another one shouted over the boy, “he's Bound!”

The Alpha spat. “No matter. Commander Skapi will find them.” That crooked smile spread out on the man's face again. “Retreat!”

In two sweeping arcs, Vara tossed the two unconscious men toward their pack mates with ease. They landed roughly, causing one to wake up gasping for air. Vara never stopped growling until they all disappeared into the brush with the man still wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath.

Zan turned to the terrified rabbits.

The Reptilian feigned courage, but the boy could always sniff out lies. “You!” Zan shouted, “both of you!” They still looked terrified, but somehow Zan got the feeling they just needed a friend. No one in need of a friend can be that bad, right?

“The three of us,” the Reptilian quipped back in his rough, lispy voice.

The hairy one with the tusks continued to cower—Zan suspected most of the fear he smelled was his. “Us!” the boy blurted out, almost laughing. He climbed down from Vara and scratched her under her massive jaw, smile stretched wide. Without warning, the boy's expression turned sour. “Why did you lead them to our home?”

Vara advanced.

“We escaped during the battle,” the Reptilian replied. “We can leave.”

The one with tusks cried out, “I'm not with him!”

“I can leave then.”

As Vara advanced, the Reptilian stepped out of the way and allowed her to sniff at the little tusked one. “They said you are... Bonders?” Zan pointed his fish-spear. “What are you?” Vara licked at the little one's face until he broke composure and laughed, causing Zan to smile. How bad can they be?

A tiny, brown rabbit poked its head out form the tusked man's furs. “Bound,” he tried to say, laughing as Vara continued her assault. “All of us are.”

The Reptilian sighed with relief and interjected, “those who can link with animals, Boy.” There was a moment of silence as Zan lowered his spear; the wet sound of Vara's licking echoing into the air. “Deeper than just any bond, though.” The slitted, cat-like eyes of the Reptilian went from the boy to the wolf and lingered there as the tusked one's laughter intensified. “A spiritual one. One gifted to the world long ago, which runs deep as the soul itself... but you know this already, Boy. Whether you realize it or not, it embodies everything about you.” He ruffled his scales, almost bird-like.

Zan narrowed his eyes and raised his fish-spear again, toward the Reptilian. “You don't know me, Lizardman.” Zan's face went red with frustration, and he began to shout. “We aren't the same! You brought them here, not me!” the boy spat and lowered his spear, glancing over to Vara as she sniffed curiously at the little rabbit. “You stink, Lizardman. Your words stink too.” Still, Zan couldn't help but feel like they were just lost and scared little rabbits.

“My name is Ravos,” the Reptilian barked back; sweeping Zan's legs with his tail and catching his spear mid-air. The boy landed with a wet thud and looked over to Vara, who only watched with glowing blue eyes. “You should listen, Boy. Learn.” Ravos held the blunt end of the spear out for Zan to take. “They will be back for us—for you.”

Zan scratched his head and stubbornly refused the spear, stumbling to his feet by himself. “Why didn't Vara protect me?”

“She can sense my intent,” Ravos replied. “As can you. Through her.” He thrust the sharp end of the fish-spear into the mud as he continued to speak. “Once linked, the two become the one. It is a magic that Evyntir has gifted all of those who live upon it.” Ravos folded his arms and gave the boy a challenging look. “Am I lying? You can probably smell it. We are friends.”

Zan knew he wasn't lying, but refused to give him the satisfaction. Friends? he thought, trying to reconcile the strange feeling these two gave him—a feeling of kinship to the bone. I know them. It ran deeper than even the bonds he shared with the birds or snakes or turtles of the forest.

The tusked man with the rabbit began to weep. “Thank you!” he fell to his knees, cradling his rabbit companion with shaking hands as he continued to speak. “You saved Nin from those soldiers... thank you! Thank you!”

“What are you?” Zan asked, not unkindly, causing Ravos to chuckle.

“Winter's Mark,” the one with the rabbit said, almost a curse. “You've never seen an Orc before, have you?”

“It makes sense this far South,” Ravos spat. “I took you for a hairy Goblin.”

That got to him. “My name is Noro,” the Orc stood, no longer weeping, suddenly stoic in his resolve. “As I said, I'm not with the Reptilian. But I, Noro, pledge to help you in any way I can.” When Noro smiled, his tusks quivered. “You're a child, and Bound—like us.” He bowed his head. “You have my endless gratitude.”

Zan could tell Noro wasn't lying either. “Stay as long as you want, then.” He smiled and pet Vara lovingly around the scruff of her massive neck.

Ravos flinched. “You—No! You don't understand... those soldiers will be back for you and all of us.” He plucked the spear from the mud and held it out to the boy. “You need to stop them from returning to Commander Skapi!”

The light of the fallen torches flickered and guttered out, casting darkness across the clearing once again. Vara growled. He's still telling the truth, Zan thought, then took his spear and climbed atop Vara with ease. “Okay!” he announced triumphantly. “I need your help, Noro! Follow the river up to the caves near the volcano, it's safe there!”

“Mount Kovina?” Ravos asked.

The boy nodded with a smile. “Whatever you wanna call it, I guess.”

Zan could feel Vara tense up beneath him, ready to give chase. “Wait!” Noro called out. “What is your name, child?”

Zan bared his teeth into a lupine smile from atop his powerful, black wolf. “Your friend!” he bellowed, as mighty as a boy could, then disappeared into the overgrowth.

As the world descended into darkness and twilight, Zan and Vara became its shadow.

They found the first soldier cowering at the foot of an ancient ash tree, defensively clutching his lit torch with one hand and waving his club with the other. Zan approached separately as Vara pounced, striking the soldier in the back of the head with the blunt end of his fish-spear after the man was taken off his feet. He saw the other unconscious man was abandoned here as well, and bound them both up against the ash before continuing.

At least they'll be comfortable, the boy told himself.

When they found the second soldier, he tripped over the gnarled roots of an old oak, scouring his light source in the mud. The pack accepted his fate and never stopped fleeing. In the darkness, the man lost track of which direction he was going, and Vara put him to sleep quickly. They tied him to the oak before bounding off once again.

After that, the scent led them to the edge of Hemdom—the edge of his home.

Already, the air smelled different here. The trees thinned out as he traveled; the soil, hardening. Eventually, there were no trees, no animals, no insects—No Man's Land; an expansive field of blackened grass, drying rivers, and abandoned trenches rolling on into the Halot Hills on the horizon. Zan called it that because it's where the outsiders always seemed to have their battles. Battles the boy found hard to discern who the victor ever was.

Once War moves on, it becomes a graveyard.

Indeed, Zan had stepped into a world of the dead. They had long lost the scent of the pack in the decaying miasma of this place. Smoke slithered into the air in spots scattered all over the black hills, enough that it obfuscated the view of the stars near the horizon. Broken bones, spears, carriages and carts—broken hopes, dreams, potential, and families all. The whole sight made the boy sad and sullen; he knew Vara felt the same. The smells she picked up on hit him even harder.

The boy climbed down and wrapped his arms around Vara; tears soaking into her coarse, black fur. “It's not fair, Vara.” He sniffled, squeezing her as tight as he could. “None of these people had to... had to die.” Zan knew death well as a child of the forest, and he could smell it all around him now. He had encountered many corpses before—a fallen deer, an old bear, a half-eaten boar, but none of them had made him feel the way he did now. He had even killed before—any time he used his fish-spear to catch food. Zan knew what he was doing, but somehow it felt okay when it was a fish or a grasshopper. It didn't stop him from crying the first time, though, when he had skewered a catfish the size of his leg. At the time, it took Vara unapologetically digging in to make the boy realize how delicious it looked.

But that was death in another world—through a boy and his wolf companion's eyes.

Zan had lost count of how many bones they'd passed by, and couldn't tell whether some were person or beast. They're all beasts, the boy thought; feeling sadness give way to frustration as his eyes found a smaller skeleton. This one was his size. No, smaller, he decided, grinding his teeth. In the end, we are all bones and blood on the inside.

Vara was licking his face, trying to console the boy when the first arrow came whistling by.

Zan screamed out; leaping onto Vara's back as she sprung into motion. Two more arrows appeared out of the fog leaving a gash across Vara's backside. The wolf howled momentarily but never lost her footing or focus.

The familiar voice of the Pack Alpha rose up over the sound of Vara's growling. “Fire at will! Shoot to wound, not kill!”

Two more arrows appeared. One missed, and Zan managed to bat the second one aside with the end of his spear before it could find Vara. Shapes appeared in the fog, growing and darkening as the pair advanced. Another arrow glanced just over Zan's head when the wolf finally pounced.

They learned since the last encounter, and the soldiers had spread out in the trenches beneath the purple miasma of No Man's Land. The tactic made them miss and rooted them in place, but forced Zan and Vara to commit to one target at a time. The first man fell; putting up a surprisingly good fight against the wolf before Zan made him sleep with the blunt end of his fish-spear. As they pulled him from the trench, two more arrows appeared. Zan ducked out of the way of the first, and the second sprouted, quivering from the end of the unconscious soldier's leather boot.

The pack dropped their bows and broke off into a sprint; one of them wheezing relentlessly. “We can't outrun him!”

In the fog, Zan could hear the Alpha laugh as they gained on him. “I just need to outrun you!” the man's cackling echoed.

They followed the sounds of scuffling through the fog until they found the wheezing man attempting to scramble to his feet in vain. He was tangled up in a mass of bones, and the Alpha was gone already. Zan half expected a stray arrow to whistle through at any moment. He wouldn't sleep from the first thwack of Zan's spear, but after two more, the soldier finally started to snore—lungs whistling.

Zan and Vara were moving blind across No Man's Land now, losing time. The Alpha had a head start, and could be off in a completely different direction. The boy tried to ignore the bodies best he could; occasionally finding a silent grimace frozen forever on the faces of the fallen looking back at him. Swarms of greasy, green and black flies drew his eye to the worst ones, and the sight broke his heart. The boy could see the differences in the skeletons; horses, Humans, Reptilians, and even Orcs. But once they're bones, they can never tell anyone why they chose to die here, he thought, sniffling and wiping a tear away. They are all the same now, with the same expressions on their faces. The boy couldn't help but notice some skulls appeared to be laughing—others, screaming.

A reassuring warmth swelled up from somewhere deep inside Zan's bones, and he knew it was Vara.

No more tears came after that, and they found the first among many of the Halot Hills. As they ascended, their vision cleared when they rose out of the miasma of No Man's Land. Purple fog gave way to starlight and grass; landscape still stripped of trees aside from the occasional lone willow. These hills were massive, but most had been shaved away on one side and dug into with strange wooden frames built up. Most, if not all, of these places remained abandoned from what Zan could tell. Wooden skeletons now.

Far off, the boy could see light from fires in the soldiers' camp.

In the clear air, he could smell smoke and even sweat. Even if they were invisible, I'd still find them. Among the hills, Vara could leap, span gaps, and gain ground quickly. But Zan did not sing or howl. This is important, he reminded himself over and over again. The commander did this... the commander made everyone fight here, and sent those soldiers into our home. Vara snarled her approval as they made their way out over the framework of one of the larger wooden structures. “I don't know about this King PoPo person, Vara...”

The wolf howled and picked up speed toward the edge of the wooden frame.

Zan pulled his fox-ear hood down and squeezed her as tight as he could. “Maybe we can convince the Commander to go away!” Vara bounded into the air with enough force to collapse the wooden structure behind them.

For a moment, the boy could fly.

The wind carried the animal skins of Zan's cloak as they fell through the air toward another massive hill. The stars whizzed by in a blur high above; moon watching from the edge of the horizon. The ground rose up to meet them, then they landed with little enough impact that Vara continued to dash forward without missing a beat. Zan held on as his weight shifted; they had landed enough big jumps in the past for him to know what was coming. After the hundredth time being thrown from her back, he had promised himself never again. So far, he kept his promise.

They reached the fringes of the camp as the shadow of the sun appeared behind the horizon. Few were sleeping, and all of them were alert. Most likely awaiting the return of their kin, Zan thought, as they prowled their way around the perimeter of the camp. They kept to the shadows of the hill, a couple trees, and even tents when the need arose. They followed the strange sound of metallic clanging to a circle of onlookers near the far side of the camp. There, they waited in the darkness.

Zan cradled Vara's head and whispered, “shh, its okay. Be calm, Vara. All is well.” In response, he felt warmth wash over his bones—even his teeth—like sunlight. The boy always knew he was doing the right thing when he got that feeling of love spreading like a wildfire, deep down. Whenever he felt it, he knew Vara had his back.

The sounds intensified from what Zan could now see was some sort of pit dug out, with two men fighting. They wielded simple gray clubs, and whenever they clashed, that horrible metallic clang would rip through the air. One man wore leather, the other in furs. Neither wore a cloak or had a sigil visible, but the fur man was larger and had great black beard beneath his shaved head. The leather man was quick and wore long, white hair pulled into a ponytail. Zan imagined smoke and snow wisping around them as they clashed; swirls of ink and ice obfuscating their faces.

They weren't fighting for any reason apparent to the boy, only what seemed to be the sheer entertainment of the onlookers. Those watching passed coins to each other, whispering as the men continued their metallic onslaught. Eventually, the leather man cleverly avoided a strike and went for the fur man's knee. The bearded man cried out in pain, and some of the onlookers echoed his sentiment. Coins were exchanged again with angry whispers.

When the leather man went in for a strike, the fur man caught it and headbutted him. A second headbutt caused the leather man to drop his club, and a third sent him to sleep. Four, five. The fur man continued to headbutt; laughing maniacally as the crowd cheered on. Zan wanted to look away, but couldn't.

The boy could feel himself getting frustrated again. Do they fight for dominance? he wondered. It couldn't be food, he saw the cook fires and seemingly endless piles of fish or red meat himself as he stalked the camp. The fur man had to have gotten his furs from somewhere.

The last of the stars had all faded away, but the sun did not yet rise.

Zan spent the morning evading detection and watching the pit fights. One after the other, pairs would step up to clash as onlookers drank and continued to exchange their coins. Each combatant brought their own weapons, and when one couldn't be agreed upon they fought with their metal clubs. Some of them fought strangely. One fat man even refused to use weapons at all. Many coins were exchanged in the crowd when he was the only one who walked away from the pit.

The boy saw blunted blades, whips, clubs, shields—and even a woman who fought with only her unstrung longbow. She was his favorite, but she didn't win the day. That honor went to the enormous man with a gaunt face. He wore no beard, no hair on his head, and even lacked eyebrows. The man seemed to enjoy himself; bony face melting into a skeletal smile at the beginning of each match. He was one with a whip, foregoing the advantage of grappling from afar in exchange for more lashes. When the man struck with his whip, it seemed to come alive in his hands like a bouquet of tentacles or snakes.

He was the only one Zan saw kill anybody. For that, he hated him.

The boy had watched over a dozen combatants come and go, and none of them chose to kill their opponent. Seeing example after example of this ritual made Zan know that what the bald man did wasn't necessary. To him, this seemed to be a way most people tested their strength or settled differences. He liked that about these people, it was something he could relate to. But there was a sort of drunk revelry in the bald man's smile, like he yearned for it. Even the fat man, with all his weight, proved to be only a larger and slower target to him. Zan didn't like how ruthless this man was, and it only served as a reminder to why he was in this strange place to begin with.

The Alpha, the boy thought, the Herd Alpha. I'll meet their Commander in the fight pit and make them all leave. Vara licked his face as he scratched under her chin. I have a feeling we can convince him.

The boy ran out into the open toward the fighting pit, fox hood and furs flapping behind him. “Commander Scalpy!” A dozen pairs of eyes turned to greet him, then he felt all of them as he continued to yell, “Commander Scalpy! Commander! Commander Scalpy!”

“Commander?” one of the soldiers asked, looking at Zan like he was a ghost.

“It's Skapi,” a powerful voice rose up, causing everyone to look over in awe. A woman stepped through as the crowd parted. She was one of the few wearing armor, sheets of polished metal lobstered down her arms, legs, and chest. Her gauntlets resembled claws, and she held a bronzed lion head helmet beneath her arm. A ring of cat fur rimmed the top of her black cloak; gold trimmed edges catching in the first light of dawn as it swirled around her feet. She raised a clawed finger of her gauntlet to Zan, and it was then the boy noticed her eyes—slitted like a cat's and bluer than Vara's. “Take him.”

The boy raised his fish-spear to the first man and deflected his club. With a roar like thunder, Vara came crashing out of the shadows into the soldier, sending him rigidly into the next man and knocking them both prone. Zan was mounted by the time the third one reached him, and Vara clamped down before he could properly swing his metal club. Two strikes to the head from the butt of his spear and the man went limp.

“Enough!” Commander Skapi called out, and the soldiers backed off.

“He's Bound!” one of them barked, and Zan saw it was the man they had been pursuing. The Pack Alpha.

Skapi remained silent as she slid the helmet down over her head. “This is the child who defeated six men?”

Her slitted, blue eyes searched Zan for something. He felt cold whenever she looked at him; clinging to the comfort of his wolf, deep in his bones. Embers in an abyss, he thought. He felt uneasy, but the boy broke neither stance nor snarl. “I challenge you!” He leaped into the fighting pit and raised his spear, then Vara barked her approval.

Skapi stepped toward the edge of the pit and looked down at him. “I accept.” Her pupils narrowed as she unhooked a lion's head brooch and let her cloak fall to the ground around her. “You are from Hemdom, then? At the base of Mount Kovina?” When the boy gave no reply, she tightened the straps of her clawed gauntlets and continued. “What are your terms, Child?”

“All of you need to leave and never come back!” Zan growled, mirrored by Vara.

The expression on her face remained unchanged; frozen. “Very well. But if I win, we will keep your friend, and I will most definitely come back.”

Skapi's words gave Zan goosebumps. Keep? The boy thought; letting them hang there. His eyes went to his companion wolf. Does she mean Vara?

“We may use any weapons currently held by us,” she continued. “Yes, this includes your little dog.”

Vara didn't like that, Zan could feel it. He looked Skapi up and down, just to be sure he hadn't missed any weapons she might've been hiding. He didn't smell fear, nor could he detect any hint of a lie as she spoke. There was something, though, one of the many unfamiliar scents this place had. It made Vara nervous. I can still just... go, he thought, realizing his hesitation.

The Commander sniffed. “Whats the matter? If you're afraid, then I'm afraid it's too late.” She jumped down into the pit and pointed. “I accept your challenge and your terms, Wolf Child! Do you accept the chosen weapon?”

Zan could feel his face flush with embarrassment and frustration when some of the soldiers laughed. “I accept!” he blurted out, then charged.

Skapi made no move. “Leacia!” she roared.

Vara sprung into action then, knocking Zan prone and tumbling end over end with with a pale shadow. He didn't have time to react before realizing Vara was clashing with a giant white lioness. His blood went cold. I've never seen a lion before, the boy couldn't help but think, and indeed, she was a beautiful creature. Dwarfing Vara, the lioness was all muscle and claws. Her eyes were rubies and her fur was fresh snow.

Just as the boy scrambled to his feet, he felt the flat of Skapi's metal boot and skidded across the mud of the fighting pit; gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him. He didn't have his spear, the boy realized. By the time he found it, Skapi's boot had once again found him. He could hear Vara clashing with Leacia, sounds that made his heart race and his mind panic. Snarling and whimpering—jaws snapping with mud and rocks kicking up all around—but eventually the sound of his own wheezing overtook it all. A third strike from Skapi before he could get his bearings; a fourth.

I can't breathe, was all the boy could think, over and over. I can't... I... I can't.

Skapi stepped back. “To me!” she commanded, and the lion released Vara to return to her master's side. The wolf rushed over to Zan; nudging at the boy as he continued to gasp for air. “Your age shows, child. Even Bound, you're still weak.” Zan tried to respond, but could only cough with watering eyes as he stumbled to his feet. As he clutched at Vara, his hands slipped away and he found them covered in her blood. “I believe in redemption, however, so I shall give you another chance before our duel is concluded.”

A deep horn bellowed like a wounded bear throughout the camp, giving the boy a few more moments to catch his breath. “Scouts returning!” he heard a man shout.

Skapi scratched behind the white lion's ear, not unlike Zan did with Vara. “Strike, Child, and finish our agreement.”

The boy charged forward, screaming and stumbling. Mid-stride, he climbed onto Vara. She leaped into the air; falling toward the Commander with Zan roaring from her back. Skapi sidestepped as Vara came crashing in; roaring when she saw the boy use the downward momentum of Vara's leap to clap her lion across the face with his fish-spear. Yes,he thought, pressing his advantage. He clapped the lion a second time—a third. Until the creature was forced to rear back.

Skapi appeared and slashed at the air around the boy as he ducked and dodged. “It was a mistake to come here, Child.” Even as he avoided attack after attack, he never saw a change on the Commander's face. Cold, calculated focus.

The boy dropped low, launching the butt of his spear upward into the Commander's head. She reeled back; snarling and clutching at her face as her lion-headed helm flew through the air. A beam of morning light caught the bronze edge before it hit the ground, then Vara howled in pain. “No!” Zan cried out. Leacia dug into the back of Vara's neck and began shaking. “No! Stop!”

There was a flash of red, then everything went white.

The boy was hazy; realizing now he was laying on the packed, dry ground of the fighting pit. He tasted and smelled blood. Skapi stood over him—Vara still pinned down by the lioness and at her mercy. “I do you this one kindness, Child.” She whistled, and Leacia released her prey limping back to the boy. She leaned in close, causing him to flinch. “I would avoid the imprisonment of a child, even if you are Bound,” she whispered. Her cat-like eyes focused in, through him, like two cracked sapphires. “Did you think I would only send one team to find others like us?” Her eyes glistened and narrowed at him. “Go. Become angry. Grow vengeful. Grow strong.” She smiled with the same look of lust Zan saw on the bald man's face. “Then, come find me.”

The boy tried to sit up, but it only resulted in horrible pain and made it hard to breathe. Still, he lifted his head. “I...” He could feel his face flush with anger again, but he embraced it. “I am stronger than you!” Zan didn't need an untainted sense of smell to know his words got to her, he could see as much written on her face.

She stood again; wrinkling her nose. “Your friend is plenty enough for King Ponos to be satisfied.”

The sound of barking dogs filled the camp. Vara growled as she nudged Zan up to his feet. He could feel her anxiety building. The boy clung to consciousness as desperately as he clung to his wolf's fur. His head was throbbing and he found it hard to focus on anything. He saw Skapi, but behind her a man came into view. There, he saw the blurry shapes of all the dogs behind her lioness. Shapes of brown, black, and grays, dragging something green behind them. Bound by rope, he knew, but Zan's eyes wouldn't focus.

Eventually, they focused enough for Zan to see what the green blur was—Ravos. Behind them all, he saw fingers of black smoke gushing into the sky from the direction of his forest home. They looked like black ghosts basking in the morning sunlight. His chest tightened; tears pouring down his cheeks. “No!”

Ravos raised his head, coughing a pink mist into the morning air. “Boy,” he tried to say, but his handler laid into him with a heavy boot. Regardless, he still managed to cry out, “run!”

Vara jumped, causing Zan to lose his grip mid-flight. “No!” he mumbled. The boy slid across the packed dirt of the camp; consciousness fading. He felt Vara tug at his furs and lift him into the air. A lion's roar rang out.

The last thing Zan remembered was wind biting at the cold sweat of his skin, the smell of smoke, and the taste of blood.

Droplets of ice kissed at the boys face; waking him from dreams of endless gardens and into a whole new nightmare.

He was home, or, what was left of it. The sound of a river drowned out everything else but Zan's thoughts. The verdant greens, reds, and yellows of the forest had all been replaced by the hollow blues, grays, whites, and black of this new ashen world. Laying atop a lone moss-covered stone, his eyes followed the river flowing from a enormous cave opening—their den. Only, now it resembled some sort of giant monster's jaws with the remains of jagged, black tree trunks all around it.

Zan sat up and coughed. His head burned and pounded inside his skull, and he pulled his furs in close to stave off the chilly air. All he could smell was smoke and stagnating burnt things. The air was thick and wet, and above, Mount Kovina looked down mournfully at him. The sound of the river intensified as his surroundings became clearer to him.

Protruding from ash-caked earth, he noticed antlers. A great stag caught up in the inferno; dying for no greater purpose than people and their conflicts. No reason, but for Skapi and her King's hunger for Bonders. No reason, except me not being able to save you, Zan told himself, crying and hoping that somewhere the creatures of the forest could hear him. A crow shrieked from the dead branches of a scorched tree, watching hungrily. He continued to notice dead things; birds, squirrels, a fox, and even rotting fish along the edges of the river.

A shape moved in the darkness of the cave, then two blue moon eyes came alive and floated toward him. Zan began to cry harder. He didn't realize how much he missed Vara until seeing her exit, limping from the cave. The boy could see scratches beginning to heal all over her body from Leacia's onslaught, and guilt consumed him. He pushed himself stumbling from the mossy stone and crashed into the muddy, ashy ground. By the time he looked up, Vara was by his side licking his face and nuzzling him. “I... I'm sorry Vara... I could've gotten you killed. I...” Zan choked up and swallowed his words. I got everyone else killed. His thoughts went to Ravos. He thought of Noro and his little rabbit, Nin, and what horrors they must face now that he was such a failure.

Vara nuzzled him and urged him onto her back, whining. Zan patted her reassuringly, wincing from the lingering pain in his torso. “It's okay, Girl.” We're still alive, he thought bitterly. “We won't let this happen again.” Vara whined again, sensing the boy's distress.

They made their way through the apocalyptic remains of Hemdom to a parade of horrors.

Zan lost count of the dead; nearly breaking when he found the remains of the soldier he had personally bound to a tree. His friends never came for him, he thought, sniffling and trying to maintain control of his breathing. He thought of the others he left behind on his hunt. Were they all left to this fate?

For hours, the boy and his wolf wandered Hemdom. Eventually, they came to rest under a dead ash tree as the first stars came into view above. Zan sighed. They're so much easier to see now, without the canopy. It was a beautiful sight, but poisoned by the knowledge of what made it all possible. They only reminded the boy of torch lights flickering in the darkness.

Zan had no more tears to cry. “I will never kill again, Vara.” He scratched her behind the ear, then buried his face into her thick coat. “Never. Not even for food. Not ever!” He squeezed her even harder. “We have no home left to protect because of me. We need to stop this from ever happening again.”

Vara gave him a knowing look, sneezed twice, then licked his nose and one of his eyes. The boy knew that wherever he went, she would gladly follow. No matter the danger, Zan knew he would do the same for her. She was the only home he had left.

A low growl interrupted the moment, then the boy realized it was his stomach. Vara gave him another look, this time he felt judged. “Not even for food I said!”

“I have some food,” a low voice promised from the darkness. “Here.”

Zan heard movement somewhere behind him and lurched up to his feet as quick as he could; coughing. Momentarily, he searched beyond the dead ash tree before he found the source of the voice. “Show yourself!” the boy demanded. Vara growled; hairs standing on end at her haunches and tail.

The shape took a few more steps, and Zan realized it was Noro. “I just want to show my gratitude,” the Orc said with a sullen look, “for your bravery.”

Nin came bounding out from the dark, surging around Vara like a brown tornado until the wolf gave in and playfully gave chase. For a moment, Zan could almost forget the black and gray backdrop to the animals' joy. So simple, he thought, this feeling here. This is friendship, love. He couldn't help but smile as he watched Vara and Nin continue to jump around. Noro held a handful of berries out for Zan to take, tusks shaking slightly as his lips curled into a smile. That was when the boy decided that this is what Home feels like.

When he noticed the boy begin to cry, Noro said, “thank you, little brother,” and wrapped his huge arms around him. “I promised I would always help you, and so I will.”

When Zan felt the Orc squeeze, it only made him weep more. He was so thankful to have another person here, his first embrace shared with a person, that all he could do was squeeze back. Is this how Vara feels when I hold her? He found himself thinking, then decided it must be true.

Noro leaned up against the dead ash tree and popped a handful of berries into his mouth. “This is no place for a child, friend. Nor a wolf, a rabbit, or skinny little Orc.” Dark juice ran around his tusks as he chewed. “Nothin' left, and they'll be back.”

Zan tossed a handful into his own mouth before he spoke. “I'm glad you said it,” he mumbled; shrugging. “We'll leave after some rest then.”

The Orc smiled and nodded. “After some rest.” His eyes went wide just then, and he choked on his berries. “Wait, wait—go where?”

Zan continued to chew; juice running down his own chin now. “They got Ravos because of me. I know he's still alive.” He swallowed and bared his teeth into a grotesque, pulpy, red smile. “Or else, they would've just killed us like the rest.”

Noro grumbled a bit, then conceded. “Er, true... I guess.” The Orc sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I've never seen them do it for no reason... you're right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

The boy stretched out confidently, then settled up against the ash tree beside Noro. “It's settled then. We'll talk Skapi into releasing him at first light.”

The Orc shot up, staring daggers at Zan. “Talk?”

“Talk. I will not kill her,” then the boy pulled his singed fox-eared hood down over his face.

Noro sighed. “Sometimes you must—”

“I won't,” the boy interrupted, turning over to sleep with a scoff. “In the morning, then.”

Realizing his defeat, Noro leaned back against the dead tree. “Sleep well, little brother.”

Zan didn't know what the Orc meant by that, but it felt nice to hear. He didn't fall asleep right away though, even when Vara nuzzled up next to him. He thought of conflict, and wondered at it. What is it that makes these people fight? He kept asking himself. What do they trade for life? He thought of how far from home Noro was, or even Ravos. Both had scents alien to him, from other worlds. They can't be fighting for their home while standing inside another's. Zan could hear everyone snoring when he finally got drowsy; whispering a promise to himself over and over. “I fight for home, I fight for life. We are all just bones and blood inside.”

In his dreams, he found himself in the endless gardens again—still whispering, “I fight for home, I fight for life. We are all just bones and blood inside.”

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