Cecila is woken by the smell of burning barque kucken. Her body is stiff and aches but she still manages to sluggishly sit upright and gleefully look for the source of the fat-melting aroma.

Not too far in front of her sits Girgory, deeply absorbed in the task of tending to the cooking of the meat.

“Got enough there for me?” She croaks, with a dry throat.

“Cecila! You’re awake?” Replies the startled Grigory.

“Duh, what’s it look like?” She replies sarcastically.

“Smart ass... It’s just, I didn't expect a Oomen to regain consciousness so quickly, considering the amount of injuries you got.”

“We’re not as weak as you think, ya know. Sure we don’t have your fancy powers, but we’ve been live in same hellhole as you, and you know well that you can’t live here without being strong.”

“You’re right… I think I’m going to stop thinking less of you and your people from now on, maybe.” He quietly said the last word.

“Good, you ass.” Cecila lets out a weak smile. “You got any water? My throats dying over here.”

“Oh, sure.” Grigory tosses Cecila a half empty waterskin, which Cecila quickly proceeds to removes the ‘half’.

The cold liquid feels like heaven as it trickles down her throat and splashes into her stomach.

“Oh man that hit the spot!” She exclaims as she wipes the excess liquid off of her face.

“Thank you…” Grigory mumbles.

“What was that?” Cecila asks, as she did not hear him.

“Thank you.” He says once more, only slightly louder.

“Still didn’t catch that.”

Grigory inhales deeply.

“... Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my life… If it wasn’t for you I would currently be being digested by thousands of different kittilans.”

“True.” She simply states.

“What I did was stupid. I let my emotions get the best of me and nearly got us both killed…”

Cecila stands up and walks to where Grigory is sitting. She sits on the cold sand beside him.

“You know, it just occurred to me I don’t know how old you are. How old are you Grigory?”

“Erm. I’m seventeen, why?”

“What you did was indeed stupid, very stupid, like unbelievably stupid I mean…”

“Alright-alright, I get it. I’m stupid.” He interjects.

“Yes you are.” She replies with a toothy grin.

She suddenly pats him on the back and motherly rubs it in a small circular pattern.

“But don’t be so hard on yourself. Did you know I’m two years older than you? And I’ve done so much stupid shit in my life, and will most likely continue to do so. You’re barely an adult, it’s okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them.”

“I know, but this mistake almost got you killed as well.”

“Since when did you start caring about me?”

“Shut up!” He yells, his facing turning red.

“Hahaha… Did you know you can be pretty cute?” She says, feeling the sudden urge to ruffle his hair - if he had any.

Grigory just starts grumbling in response.

“There are going to be many times in the future when both of us are going to be in a life or death situation. All we can do is get stronger and pray we’ll make it out alive.” Her tone suddenly becoming more serious.

“You’re right - about the first part at least… I need to be smarter, stronger.”

“We.” She corrects.

“We…” Grigory agrees.

“Looks like the meat is done.” Cecila states.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

They both begin to ravishingly tear into the meat, their teeth clacking on the bones, all sense of decorum long gone.

* * * * *

Once all traces of food could no longer be found. The two just sprawled themselves on the sand, now just simply relaxing and gazing at the stars, with minor philosophical intent.

“Why are you here Grigory?” Cecila spontaneously asks.

“Huh?” He replies in sudden confusion.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Why is a seventeen year old travelling the Wild Lands alone? Wait, did you use to have companions? Am I reopening old wounds by asking?”

“No, I have always travelled alone.”

“Oh. Why? I mean you are a Ymdi and can be pretty badass at times. But you don’t really act like someone who grew up in the Wild Lands, and you mentioned something about a village when we first met.

“I grew up in a village about a four month walk from here.”

“Were there other Ymdi’s in this village?”

“Yes, everyone there was a Ymdi.”

“Whoa. So there’s a place full of hundreds of people as strong as you?”

“No. Much stronger. I’m just a youngling. A fully grown Ymdi can’t even be compared to me.”

“Shit. Wouldn’t want to mess with that place… So why’d you leave?”

“You sure are nosey.” He huffs.

“I know.” She responds with a beaming, seemingly innocent smile. “Is it so wrong to want to know about my new companion’s life?”

“I guess not…” He agreed reluctantly. “On a Ymdi’s Seventeenth birthday, a great party is held in their honor. Music, dancing, the finest food and drink, it was so much fun. Then, at the end, everyone gives you a present. My father gave me this armour and my mother forged my sword.” He said, gesturing to his equipment.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It was… The next day, as soon as the sun rises, the entire village then banishes you, and you cannot return until your twenty-first birthday.”

“Why…?” She asks, her eyes wide with shock and curiosity.

“This is a world where only the strong can live, like you said. So a Ymdi is cast out of their home and as a result, is forced to travel the world, so they can gain experience and therefore become stronger and wiser.”

“That sounds cruel. I mean, all Oomens are trained to fight as soon as they can walk, but not all of us become soldiers, most never actually leave the walls in their entire lives’.”

Grigory shrugs. “It is tradition. If a Ymdi returns, they are welcomed with a grand celebration and are now allowed to marry and have children.”

“You can’t wed until twenty-one? That’s ridiculous! Most Oomens are having their third child by then. Hell, I’m considered an oddball for being nineteen and unwed.” She sits up and yells.

“It’s so the elders and the people know that you’re strong and will therefore produce strong children. This method makes it so we will never be weak, and continue to survive.”

“Damn. How many return?”

“About half. The rest either die or decide to make a new life somewhere else… My brother turned twenty-one three years ago…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If he died then that means he was weak. If he lives… I guess he found a new home.”

“... How long have you been travelling?”

“About five months.”

“You sure are lucky to have that power of yours.”

“Chary.”

“What?”

“My power, it’s called chary.”

“Oh. Weird name.”

“Knew you would say that.”

Cecila grins “Mind powers working now are they?”

“No, you just have a very predictable sense of humour.”

“And you have an asshole sense of humour.”

“Not gonna deny that.” He replies, returning her grin twofold.

“Heh… So, tell me about your village.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Fine, but you’ve got to tell me about yours.”

“Deal.”

“Alright. Let’s see… When I was six, I tried to… And my father… Itched like hell…”

The night went on and the two spent the entirety of the time telling each other stories about their childhoods.

Many laughs were had and a bond was formed on this night. One that will influence their lives forever.