“I hate how the big folk treat us! They’re no different than the dwarves!” I looked up to the balding head of Pragsturosa and prayed to the gods that he heard me.

But my father wheeled about to nearly whip me with the reins. “They’re very different!” He loudly insisted. “They're caring people with hearts ten times larger than their frames! Like us.” He nudged me on the bow, then tapped his pudgy finger on his graying temples. “But they’re gruff and dense in the skull so they think kindness is weakness. But if anything, DeBoynton, be wary of the big folk,” Pa warned. “Even those with good intentions will tower over you as they would to their child. It’s demeaning. Especially when it's not intended.”

The deep sadness in his eyes rang truer than words ever could. It was one of the few times I seen the life in his eyes and face drain completely. As far as I was aware, only on four occasions did the rich brown of his features fade into the pale grays of dead wood. When he spoke of my uncle and his death in the mines. When the dwarves called him weak and spineless. When the big folk treated us unfairly.

And when I spoke of adventuring.

I hated seeing it. But I hated my inability to cheer him up even more. “Oh, I hear ya, Pa.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder. But he turned on me.

“You ought to!” He snapped the reins at me again. “You’re a few years out from bein’ old enough to go out on your own. And-”

“Shut yer traps!” A grizzled shout came from ahead.

His words sent Father reeling around, scowling, but his demeanor suddenly changed after seeing Pragsturosa dismount his carriage and palm his meaty hand to the ground.

“Sum’ ain’t right.” He growled just low enough for us to hear, then pulled his hammer from his carriage before waving to us.

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“Alright, Deboynton, remember.” Father turned his gray face and eyes to me. This was the fifth occasion. “Do not attack until you know what it is we face. If it’s out of our league, run to report to the town guard. Swear it to me!”

“I- I swear!” I swallowed hard and found myself hugging the short sword and shield my father shoved into my arms.

“Behind me.” He ordered after ensuring I was settled. Then, he faced about to step off the trail behind the rugged dwarf.

“Of all places.” The hammer-wielding brute muttered something obscene. And I nearly did as well. We were at the tail end of a three-day return trip from Colis, selling ingots and ores and the like. The gates of Oretta were just around this bend and a bit further inside a gorge that met the mountain on the backside. But it was this bend we were heading into. Where, just beyond the woodline, a wide sinkhole that fell when my pa was half my age sat.

It was a dead land. A barren hole, hidden behind this thicket of brush and tree. And thus it remained unnamed by the mouths of us Orettans. Or it had been at least. Now, it held a sight that stole the air from our lungs. Billowing clouds of white steam rose high and high and higher into the sky. So high they met up with the clouds, I couldn’t help but think. But Pa and the grungy dwarf were on edge with their beady eyes to the front.

Suddenly, Pragsturosa threw his heavy hand before us. “Hold!” he bellowed, then the ground began its rumble. Trees began to shake soundlessly, ripping leaves from their branches to coat the ground before us in a field of green. The rumbling then intensified, signaling the spews of hot steam to rise into the sky. Up and up like water ejected from the laughing ground's lips, the water silently arced. Higher and higher it went while deeper and deeper the ground trembled. The trees shook. The ground quaked from under our feet to slam into our backsides, allowing us to feel the entirety of a blast that I was sure could break the realm in half.

I saw only a flash of light before the ground left my body entirely. The world then spun all around me until I felt… something hit my backside. Then, all I saw was darkness reaching from the edges of my vision. And at the center, at the end of that long dark tunnel, I saw… snow. Falling ice. White clouds. And running through it all, skating through that snow and darkness, was a hooded figure approaching with outstretched arms.