Akira’s leg wasn’t shaking because of the carriage ride. Noah pressed down on her knee. 

“Are we there?” she asked. 

He sighed. “Almost. Stop jittering.”

“Do you think they would know where she is?” 

Noah lowered his gaze. “No.”

She regretted asking. 

They went to Markus first. He hadn’t heard from Fia since they visited with Mikael. Arrival halls was next.  

“You still haven’t found her?” Raija said. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“She wrote once,” Akira said. “Said she needed time to sort herself out, so we decided to give her some space.”

“Are you sure it was from her?” Raija asked. 

Akira and Noah exchanged a helpless look. “We don’t know,” Noah said in a quiet voice.

“I’ll ask around,” Raija said. “Did you ask Dara? Or Pekka?”

“Not yet,” said Noah. “We’ll go there next.” 

They spent the night at the arrival halls and left for Wolf’s Ridge in the morning. 

Wolf’s Ridge was higher than Grey Peak, and despite the misleading names, it was the town that had the barren grey peak overshadowing the town center. It was late spring, so Pillars’ signature pink slopes were still green. The small town center had a few eateries, shops and a post office. Akira and Noah reached the town’s only inn at midday. The dark timbered lobby was deserted. Akira picked out a room key from the front desk drawer marked “Vacant”, switched the sign to “Occupied”, and the two went upstairs to look for a lock that matched. 

An hour later, they were back in the lobby, sitting across from Pekka on a square table. 

Dara placed a cup of tea in front of each of them and took a seat. “When did she last write?” 

“Just over a year ago,” Akira said. 

Pekka looked at Noah. “Why would she write to you?” 

Noah averted his guilt-ridden eyes. “She should’ve written to Akira.”

Akira leaned over the table. “We’ve run out of places to look. Did you guys hear anything? Anything at all, even if it’s just hearsay.”

Pekka shook his head. 

She licked her lips. “Do you think the hunters—” 

“No,” said Dara. “I’m sure they didn’t.”

Pekka gave him a sidelong glance. 

Dara placed a hand on Akira’s. “Don’t imagine the worst.”

Akira nodded. 

“Why were they in the forest?” said Pekka. “Was it related to the map she found in the burrows?” 

Akira and Noah shared a look.

“So it was,” said Pekka.

“She thought—” Noah said, “it could lead us back to Earth.” 

Akira felt Dara’s hand twitch, though his face showed no reaction. He noticed her eyes on him and gave her a warm smile, squeezing her hand before pulling his away. 

“You both know such ideas only create trouble in this world,” Dara said. 

“We’re already in trouble,” said Noah. “If knowing this can help you find her then we prefer you know.”

“Knowing this wouldn’t help anyone. And she may not be in trouble. She did say she needed time.”

Noah nodded.

“Could she have gone back to the Trench Forests?” said Pekka. 

“No,” Akira said. “The satchel was lost. We think the hunters took it.”

“No point mentioning it again, then,” Pekka said. 

“Not even to people you trust,” Dara added. 

The two men left soon after. Akira and Noah spent the rest of the day asking the townspeople if they had seen anyone with Fia’s description. 

The bell tolled as dusk settled into the sky—the last call to come through the town gates—as they strolled down the dirt road back to their inn with no leads on Fia. The wind made Akira’s fringe attack her face like shards. Noah had done his hair in a quick braid the moment he stepped out into the windy day. 

“I will kill her when we find her,” Akira said.

“I feel too terrible to help,” Noah said, “but I’ll be rooting for you.” 

They chuckled. Akira hugged Noah’s arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn’t complain about her rabid hair; she knew he wouldn’t. He was raised with a language of a few thousand words and still struggled with the vast vocabulary the Garden had bestowed on him, but he understood touch better than any of them. 

“Noah…” she said, “do you think she’s alive?” 

He nodded. 

She was glad she asked.  

---

Pekka was sprawled on the bed in a loose shirt and shorts, playing with the knives on the side table; Dara had set them out when he undressed for his bath earlier. The bed’s headboard was an unfinished work of art, a carved Pillars’ landscape with some Earthly blooms hidden within it. The bedroom floor was covered in animal hides, as was typical in Wolf’s Ridge. The quaint house was Pekka’s, but Dara had slept in this room enough times for it to be his. 

Dara didn’t betray his surprise at seeing Pekka when he entered—only a warm smile. Beads of water clung to his hair, dripping onto the loose yarn shirt of his pajamas. He glanced over the books on the shelf beside the bed and picked one marked with a bookmark.

“Is your bed not comfortable enough,” he asked, pushing Pekka’s legs aside and leaning back with a rolled pillow under his head, “or were you just lonely?”

“If I were lonely, I wouldn’t have come to your room.”

“You break my heart, Pekka.” His eyes flicked over the page until he found the point he left off at.

“You’re being creepy.”

“Nothing I say is ever creepy. It’s the cobwebs of your own mind that make it so.” 

Pekka sighed. “I know I told you to back off, but that was when we knew where she was.” 

“You were right, and so was she. I overstepped.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Also, I didn’t listen to you then; what makes you think I would listen to you now?”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Why should I be?”

“You’re being harsh. You claim to be noble; ever try forgiveness?”

He threw a glance at Pekka. “And who would I forgive? There’s nobody here in need or even want of it.”

“You’re really not worried about the underground traders?”

“No.”

“You already did something.”

“Hmm.”

“What?“

“Abraha knows about the bounty. The hunters are dead. No one would dare go after her.“ 

“Why didn’t you tell them?“ 

Dara looked at Pekka, his lips a thin, straight line.

“I’ll tell Noah,” Pekka said. “They deserve that peace of mind.“

Dara nodded and went back to reading.

Pekka sat up and eyed him. “Is she safe?”

“I can barely guarantee my own safety. What makes you think I can guarantee hers?“ 

“You know where she is.“

“No.”

“Dara.“ 

“Hmm.“

“Cut her some slack. It’ll take her time to adapt. She’s not from a time like yours, and she was protected in her first years. Not everyone is forged in fire.“ 

“Mmm, yes. I forgot how privileged I am to have crawled out of hell itself.” He fake-smiled at Pekka. 

Dara’s rolled-up sleeve revealed faint claw marks running down its length, but they were no longer something either of them noticed, an old story buried under scar tissue a long time ago.

“You know what I mean,” Pekka said. 

Dara sighed. “I’m not heartless, Pekka. I would not have left her on her own if I didn’t think she had the means to protect herself.”

“So you met her.“ 

“Saw her. Months ago. She didn’t see me.“ 

“How was she doing?“

“She was being forged in fire. If she makes it, and I think she will, she will be quite the marvel.” He flipped the page. “You can tell Noah and Akira the bounty hunters are dead. Don’t tell them I saw her.“ 

“You’re not going to help her?“

“No. I was wrong to think I could.“ 

“Let Noah and Akira help her then.”

“I don’t know where she is anymore; that would require I find her, and I will not. However, I assure you, it was not that she couldn’t return to them; she chose not to. I will not interfere.”  

“Are you punishing her?“ 

“I’m doing her a favour.” 

“You’d do this for anyone. You do more for your trainees.”

“None of my trainees ever tried to find catharsis in kicking me down in front of others… I don’t blame her, though. I do make quite a spectacle.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t offer yourself up. You probably saw it coming before I did.”

A furrow flashed on Dara’s brow. “Fine,” he conceded and looked up at Pekka. “I knew what I was doing, and I should have been prepared to find in her words what I already knew from her actions. I should never have done it. But as I see it, now you want me to offer myself up for what could lead to another catharsis.” He gave a small shrug. “I will not do it for her. Do you want me to do it for you?”

Pekka sighed in surrender. “No. The satchel?” 

“She didn’t have it.” 

“The bounty hunters?”

“Not with them either. Could you be mistaken?” 

“I don’t think so.” Pekka stood up. “Good night, Dara.”

“How can it be, now that you’re leaving? I feel cold already.” A knife hissed by Dara’s ear and buried itself into his pillow. He laughed quietly as the door closed behind Pekka. 

---

The Garden was liberal with its use of the word wolf when naming pack hunters. Most looked nothing like an Earth wolf, but the amazon wolves of Skadi were an exception. They had larger eyes and paws, and fangs that hung out an inch from their closed mouths, but could easily go unnoticed in Siberia. Their name was an ode to their social structure. The packs were all female. 

The domineering matriarch of an amazon wolf pack usually cared for her sickly mother and aunts, and for a part of the year, some pups, too. This particular matriarch that now had her prey cornered, had neither type of weakling.

The mating season was near and her pack needed nourishment. The sires vying for them had proven themselves worthy by surviving the winter, and they’ll be here as soon as the childbearing members of her pack came in heat. Just one dog was enough for all of them, but she’d allow more as long as they agreed to share. As for herself, she no longer bore any pups; that was the price of the throne. The reward was the first feed of the kill. She watched the prey dangling over her pack patiently. 

“I know, I know,” Fia said, cheery despite being teary-eyed and hanging upside down from a rope. “I should’ve run for the treeline.” The matriarch blinked her amber eyes, as if she agreed. She was larger than the others and had a thicker rust coat. 

Fia sighed. “I can’t believe I was outwitted by a damn wolf.” She kicked the cliff to give herself a swing out of sheer boredom, the same reason she’d switched to hanging upside down. Her arms were used to carrying her and it had only been an hour since she’d swung the rope around a rock protruding from a cliff to escape the hungry jaws of her pursuers. She’d instantly realized it was a mistake. She couldn’t climb the veil of melting ice that covered the smooth cliff, and with the wolves now assembled beneath her, running was no longer an option. The tears had continued to roll sporadically since then. 

“I’m not crying, there’s just something wrong with my eyes. It’s been like this for some time. I blame Mikael… What? You thought I have no friends? I have a pack just like yours, and if they were here, your girls would be fighting over who gets to fill your spot by now.”

The matriarch stood up.

“Oh, oh, that got to you, huh?” Fia cackled.

The matriarch walked over to the sabre Fia had dropped when she bit her wrist, sat down on the blade and stared at Fia as her tail pounded the pommel. 

Fia’s mouth flew open. “You—” She shook her head and sighed. “Thank you for not peeing on it, I guess. Tell me, is that a male thing? Or do you girls do that too?”

The matriarch’s ears pointed to the trees behind her. It sounded like the prey’s pack had arrived, but it had only one member. Not enough for her to shift her attention from the promised meal. 

“You know, I like what you have going on here,” Fia said. “I think it’s nice to not have any men—WAAAAAHHH!” A wolf had jumped up at her. Fia swirled her legs down, and pulled herself up. The matriarch cocked her head. 

“Damn it! Damn you damn dogs!!” Fia wiped her tears and gave the matriarch a seething look. “I’m thinking, okay! I need time!” She clicked her tongue. “This is all Mikael’s fault. If only he had told me the truth, I wouldn’t be here talking to a stupid dog debating if I should take my chances with the cliff or a dozen hungry bitches! No offence.”

The matriarch gave a low, guttaral rumble.

“You think it’s obvious isn’t it, Diana. Can I call you Diana? You look like a Diana. You had me outmatched even when I had the sabre so it’s obvious that I should try to climb the cliff; it’s the best option. If I make it, I make it; if I don’t, I face the inevitable. But it’s not. And you know why, because of Mikael. Yes, the same guy from my pack. Sometimes friends can screw you over too!” Fia drew in a shuddering breath and collected herself. “Anyway, the thing is, as much as I would love to die for your cause—you beautiful, marvelous thing—I don’t think I’ll die if I fall off this cliff and I am petrified that you monsters would start eating me regardless. So forgive me, if I’m debating my prospects. 

“Because if I have to fight you, I’d rather do it without falling from a cliff. But… do I really have to fight you at all? I don’t know. Or maybe… maybe I should embrace it. It’s poetic. Fallen and devoured alive. Are you here to offer me redemption, Diana?” Her eyes glazed, and lost focus. It wasn’t Mikael she was thinking about.

She drew in a deep breath, turned upside down and kicked the cliff. “Speaking of Mikael… I like what you’re doing, this no-men rule. I mean, we girls, we respect privacy but we also know when to spill our guts.” 

If Diana understood human non-verbal cues, she’d know Fia’s lone pack mate found this ironic. Fia’s hearing wasn’t acute enough to hear the snigger herself.

“So,” she went on, “if I live through this—no, I haven’t given up on that yet—I will also go all-girls in my life.”

“There’s a better lesson you can learn from Diana.” It was a man’s voice. “There’s strength in numbers.”

“Andrik!!” Fia flipped right way up. “You… how? How did you know?” 

“You are not the only one with skills,” he bit out and nocked an arrow in his crossbow. A lot better than telling her he knew she’d snuck out at night because he didn’t hear her whimpering, or worse, screaming. Andrik didn’t know the demons that haunted her, and he figured he didn’t need to. 

Fia hollered. “You’re done, Diana!!”

Andrik shot the wolf that had jumped at Fia. It yelped and he finally got the pack’s attention. A few more arrows—only one lethal—were enough for Diana to turn tail with her pack. 

Fia picked up her sabre, and stretched her arms and legs. 

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Andrik said. 

Fia wiped her tears and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” 

She grinned. “I did!” She broke into a run and Andrik followed. 

She was one of the warmest people he had ever met, and yet her warmth only flowed outwards. He’d asked about her past, not out of curiosity, but because she seemed to carry too much. It worsened her night terrors and made her disappear for days. So, he stopped asking. All he knew was a name—Mikael—that he’d heard between sobs, screams and calls for her mother just before she woke up from her nightmares. Today was the first time he’d heard her say it while awake. But, she’d been talking to Diana, so he couldn’t ask more.

Fia dropped to her knees next to an old satchel and a box. Andrik knew the satchel well. It was a battered old thing that she held on to like dear life; the wet snow wasn’t doing it any favours. He once asked her how she got it and saw horror flash through her eyes. She didn’t answer. He didn’t know why she valued it so much, but he’d seen her poring over a map, and—when she thought he wasn’t looking—he’d seen her going over some papers that made her cry. The box—as big as the satchel—was new. 

Fia pushed down on the dagger still lodged under the lid and popped it open. There was a smaller box inside. She opened it—a black rock. She closed it and gaped at the pile of paper beneath it. “It’s in Garden tongue…” She flipped through the pages, and stopped at one. Andrik didn’t recognize half the characters on this page. The top read ‘Family’. It was followed by a two column table; the first in the strange characters, the second in Garden tongue. 

Fia let out a crazed laugh that made Andrik frown. She was far too odd for him; there was too much energy, and he wasn’t sure if all of it was good. 

She flipped back and forth through the papers for a while, mumbling to herself. “No way… What? They’re letters; why is it in Garden tongue. ‘Dear Namir, we’ve moved to Skadi… we met an Augment… Dinah has made…OH MY GOD!!!” Fia looked up at Andrik. “Thank you for saving me, you wonderful, wonderful man.” 

Andrik’s face scrunched. 

Fia gathered all the papers. “Help me!!” 

He did, but he scoffed at her first. 

---

They arrived in Dasu some weeks later. Fia clutched the strap of her satchel and grinned at the landlady. The woman looked very young, but had three old houses in the village that she had once built herself. The one Fia was looking to rent was on the outskirts of the village, at the edge of the grain fields. 

The landlady eyed the two prospective tenants. “Why would I rent it to you when you have no money?” Her eyes kept returning to Fia’s unkempt hair, a bob cut—slashed off with a sword—in a frizzy mess of a ponytail. She’d accidentally gone too short. The perfectly combed chestnut brown hair of her ruddy companion made it look worse. 

“I’m glad you asked, Izabella,” Fia said, taking a seat next to her on the veranda chair. “Look at us! We’re able-bodied workers. It’s a win-win. We can look after the fields, keep the creatures out. Right Andrik?”

Andrik crossed his arms over his short brown jacket. He would rather sleep in the fields than to humiliate himself by begging for a place. 

Fia waved her hand. “Nevermind him. He’s just like that. So what do you say? We can do a trial. If you don’t like us, we move out next week.”

“Are you two—together?” Izabella asked. 

Fia burst out laughing and Andrik’s gaze shot to her. “No,” he said.

Izabella smiled. “Well, that’s good. We have a few women in the village who would love to meet you, Andrik. You do like women?” 

Andrik smirked. “I do.”

Fia winked at him. 

The house was adequate—one bedroom, a living area, and a kitchenette—with a small annex near it. The door creaked as Fia and Andrik entered.

“I’ll take the annex,” Andrik said.

“Oh great, because I’m loving the colour in here!”

The house was plain; a single bed with off-white bed sheets; khaki curtains against wooden walls; four chairs and a dining table, also wood and unpolished.  Andrik sniggered. Her humour was beginning to grow on him.

He grabbed a dust-covered glass from the kitchenette, went out and shortly returned with an arrangement of budding branches. 

“Here you go,” he said, setting it on the table. 

Fia laughed. “Much better!”

He grinned on his way to the annex, which was as dull as the main house. He opened the curtains, looked over the sun-bathed, sprouting field and drew in a deep breath. He would hear her screams even here. 

In time, they renewed the window and door insulation, and he could sleep through the night—aware that he was the only one. Their friends in Dasu grew. Andrik met the girls Izabella had mentioned—one a lot more than the others. Their rooms grew more colourful. The walls and floor of Fia’s room became plastered with papers, and no one was allowed in. Her screams grew quieter, and on some days, he didn’t hear them even with the windows open.

Eventually, he was allowed to accompany her on hunts for artefacts he didn’t understand. Many lead to dead ends. Then, on her good days—when she smiled more and laughed less—he heard stories of a happier past, of family, friends and adventures with people even more skilled than her. She never told him any real names, but always described them with such vivid detail that Andrik felt he knew them already. 

All except one. 

The one who was everywhere—on Earth and in the Garden—even if she pretended they weren’t the same person. He remained faceless in her stories. She never even made up a fake name. Andrik wondered if the one name he knew belonged to this person, but he never asked. His excessive pride made him callous with most people—but not with everyone. Not with her.

Then one day, about a year after they found another of the black rocks and more letters, Fia invited him into her paper-covered room. She replaced the fake names in her stories with real ones. Laid open the maps and boxes he’d only caught glimpses of. And told him about the faceless one with a yearning that made him glow. Mikael. The one who arrived with her. Who had dragonfly wings in a shade of purple Andrik had always associated with her—the only drop of colour in her black outfit, the tassel hanging from the hilt of her black sabre.

That day, he learned about the demons that haunted her and the calling she must return to.

---

Message from the Author:

Part 1 ends with this chapter, and Part 2 after a two week hiatus!