Sam was delirious for a while after he arrived in the village called Hradar. His vision swam in blurry lines. People rushed all around him, shouting at each other. Where had they taken Ebahra? He’d be distraught if something happened to that sweet woman.

He tried to look around but nothing was clear. The day had taken its toll on him; the early morning work, chasing the chicken, the fight inside the house, and then the mad dash to the village. All of it drained him over the day, all he had eaten was the chicken and egg bowl. He remembered the savory spicy meal, it was delicious, and he wanted to eat more.

Now night had fallen on the land and he could barely see, just some shapes that looked like people running every direction. Someone was shouting about attacks and children. He couldn’t make much sense of it.

He tried to sit up but fell back onto whatever floor he was on now. Again, he was useless, lying on a floor and being taken care of by someone he didn’t even know. How much more pathetic could he get?

Then he felt a hand pushing him up, propping his head on something, and cool water flowing between his lips. Sam took in the water and coughed a bit. This was all too familiar as well. Slowly his head cleared, above him was a beautiful woman, tanned skin like his own, her dark hair braided into a single, thick cord that hung off her shoulder and tickled his forehead. She had dark eyes, green like emeralds, or spinach. Great, now he was hungry.

His stomach got the message and let out a growl. The beauty with full lips curled them into a smile, she put a hand over her mouth as small laughs escaped. “I’ll get you something to eat.” With that she stood up, gently setting his head back down, and walked off.

Wait, don’t go, are you single? The stupid questions could wait. Sam grunted and rolled onto his side, shoving his elbow into the ground and forcing himself up. The water helped a little to clear his head. How dehydrated was he?

He tapped his tongue against his teeth. Still dry. His eyes darted left to right, then spotted the bowl of water the women had in hand. He grabbed it and chugged down the last bit of water letting it swish over his tongue a few times. He gasped for air as he set the bowl down and then sighed happily.

A few pairs of eyes were fixed on him. The room he was in was a fair bit larger than Khomu’s home. Inside several people were sitting around and talking around two tables. The floor was covered in thin mats made of some kind of woven sticks, he was laid out on a thick square carpet in the corner. Overhead there were railings of thick carved wood supporting a triangular roof that they hung a few odds and ends from like tools and a large tapestry.

The people inside had a similar look to them. Everyone had dark brown or black hair, the men wore beards that looked combed and neat while the women wore braided hair either in long stands or tied up in buns. All of them had dark blue and green eyes from what he could tell. For the first time, Sam was wondering if his look was strange to them. He had dark hair and skin like them, but his hair was far shorter than all the others, including the men, and he barely had a stubble of a goatee when he first arrived.

Some of the people inside shot glances at him, he felt a bit awkward just staring back so he forced himself to sit down, legs crossed, and wave. “H-Hello.” What should he say first? Then the obvious answer slapped him in the face. “Where is Ebahra? The woman I brought in?” He looked around but saw no sign of the kind older woman.

“Ebahra is with the jemashni.” One of the men, a rather large and muscular man with thick arms, said from across the room. “She is alive but weak. They are taking care of her.” He stood, walking over to Sam then sitting beside him and leaning in closer. “So who are you?”

The tone of his voice told Sam he was suspicious of him. He just had to tell the truth, hopefully, they’d believe that. “I’m Sahmat… Ebahra and Khomu were taking care of me.”

“And where is Khomu? Why did he not bring his eshema here?”

Sam gulped a bit. The man looked ready to crush his skull the same way Khomu did to the mongor in the house. “He told me to take her and run along the river. I swear. While we were running Khomu turned and fought the… the mongors.”

“So he’s dead.” The way he said it, didn’t seem like a question.

“I don’t know. His light went out when I was running…” A pain shot through his chest at that admittance. Was the kind old man really gone? Would he never see that balding head and silly smile again?

“Those things don’t take prisoners.” The man groaned and pressed a hand to his head. “Now we must deal with them.”

Sam watched the man fall into distress. It was plain on his face, the furrowed brows, the snarling look on his lips and clenched teeth. Normally he’d leave such a man alone but he had many questions. “What are they?”

“The mongors? Seriously? Where are you from?”

“Lawashar…” He pleaded in his mind to whoever was out there that this man also didn’t know anyone from there.

“Lawa… ah. I guess the old rumors were true. Sorry for you… You seriously don’t teach people about the mongors there?” Sam sighed and held back a smile. Thank whatever god is out there the village of Lawashar was apparently a godless town of heathens and idiots… sorry Sardur and Kritra. I’m sure you were good parents. Best not to insult his dead fake parents.

“No… I think… I think those things attacked my village too. I was stabbed in the night and ran. I ended up on Khomu’s doorstep.” That was the only thing to make sense in his mind.

“Mongors, they’re creatures of fear. People who are tainted and twisted to be wild animals that act on fury and fear. The ones that were chasing you are Blood mongors. They thrive on violence and spreading their fear to others. They usually run around in packs like the one that attacked your village and Khomu’s farm.” The man sighed and looked down. “We drove them back, killed about ten of them. But more will come, they don’t stop until they are all killed.”

“Why don’t they stop?”

“If one gets away they go off, find more people to kill and taint, then the pack is remade, slowly. Then it all begins again. More blood, more death, more fear, and finally more mongors.”

“So… we need to kill them all? I saw dozens on the hill coming here!” Sam felt panic brewing in his stomach. How could they fight that many?

“Most of those kept back. From what the watchmen saw there are at least fifty still out there… Hradar only has about thirty fighting men in it, and we lost three keeping back the mongors.” His voice lowered at that. They were outnumbered almost two-to-one. Shit.

He doomed them. It was his fault those things were coming for them now. This village was Ebahra’s home, and he was going to be the reason it was ravaged by an army of monsters. He lowered his head and held it in his hands.

“You say your name is Sahmat?” The man looked down at Sam.

Sam just nodded. Sam. Sahmat. Didn’t matter, both were useless now.

“We need all the help we can get. Would you help us protect the village, Sahmat? It’s not your home but we need anyone we can get now.”

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Sam blinked. Was he asking him for help? Slowly he raised his head out of his hands and met eyes with the man. “You really want me to help? I’m not sure I can do much…” His voice trailed off. He was no good in a fight, Khomu had done most of the work at the farm fighting that thing. Khomu turned and fought against dozens of mongors and kept him safe.

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder. The man was staring right at him. “It doesn’t matter. If you try, you will be a great help. So will you stay here and fight? To protect Ebahra?” Deep green eyes stared into Sam’s soul. This behemoth of a man was asking for help to keep the woman he owed so much to safe.

He let her husband fight for him. He let the mongors chase him all the way here. If he let them kill her and destroy her home he’d be a pathetic piece of shit. “Yes… I’ll fight.”

“Good. I’m Jhonu. If you need anything, come to me. Right now I need to see to the others and get the gate locked up and fortified.” The man stood, patting Sam’s shoulder as he got up.

Just then the woman from earlier came by holding a short wooden tray. She set down a bowl of thick stew, some of the kacha bread, and a cup of water. “Here, eat up, you need strength now.”

Jhonu nodded in agreement. “This is my sister, Pellahen. She will take care of you.”

Sister. Damn, she was kinda hot in a mature way. She wasn’t a petite girl, she had curves that her dress clung to around the hips. Sam pushed away the lecherous thoughts, no time for that. “Thank you… both of you.” He looked down at the water. He needed water, but his mind craved something else. “Umm, do you have anything… stronger to drink?”

The siblings looked at each other and shared a look of confusion. Then Pellahen spoke up “Do you mean shoa?”

That sounded like some kind of booze. “Y-yes.”

She smiled at him and nodded. “I’ll get you some, start eating though you need something in your belly before you drink it.” The lovely-looking woman stepped away again with a small sway in her hips.

Jhonu nodded and grunted. “You have had a long day. Drink up and rest, we’ll talk more in the morning.” As he left the room more of the people present stood and followed him out.

Sam was left alone, looking down at the dark brown stew. It smelled wonderfully spicy and rich. He tore apart some kacha, dipped it in the broth, and caught some bits of potato, peas, and chunks of meat. All too eager for food he shoved it in his mouth and chewed. Flavorful, slightly sweet goat meat fell apart in his mouth with every bite. The broth was thick and full of warming spices, his heart started to beat faster as he brought the bowl up to his mouth and slurped it down making obscene noises.

His belly filled with the hot food, he wiped up more with the bread and shoved it down. The empty feeling in his gut was being replaced with warmth and satisfaction only a hot, home-cooked meal could make. He reached over and gulped down the water, it wasn’t alcohol but he still needed to wet his tongue before the better drink came.

As he used the last piece of kacha to scoop up a bit of peas and scraps of meat Pellahen stepped back in carrying a short jug and a cup both made of a polished orange and brown stone along with a lemon. “You were hungry weren’t you?” She smiled as she set the cup down and poured a clear liquid from the jug into the cup. Was shoa a distilled alcohol? Shit, he was bad with vodka and tequila, how would this be?

Once the small cup was about half full she stopped pouring, took out a thin knife, sliced the lemon in half, and started squeezing the juices out. The murky lemon juice and pulp mixed with the clear alcohol and she picked the cup up with just her thumb and two fingers, offering it to him. “I was pretty hungry. Ah, thank you.” He took the cup, it was a small vessel, maybe as tall as his pointing finger and wide as his thumb across.

He brought the drink up to his lips and sipped it. That all too familiar burn of alcohol washed over his mouth and for the first time in his life he welcomed it gladly. As it settled in his gut he took another sip and let out a long sigh. Burning within him, the booze gave him a surge of quiet energy, then all the little pains and aches slowed down and faded away.

“So, you’ll be helping defend the village?” Pellahen asked.

Sam turned his head, eyes meeting hers. Lovely green eyes and a smile that could make hearts leap out of a man’s chest. “Oh, well yes… I’m gonna try.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he’d be useful but he couldn’t just stand by letting people fight for him while he was laid out somewhere or running away.

“That’s reassuring, we need all the help we can get. Jhonu sent someone off to run to Tahmgrav to get more watchmen and maybe soldiers, but that will take a few days.” Her eyes turned downward, and that smile faltered as well.

A few days would be too late. She didn’t believe they would live long enough for that help to arrive. “Pellahen, are you afraid?”

“I… I think I am.” The woman licked her lips and shook her head. “Fear only makes them stronger, feeds the fear that drives them. But I can’t help but be afraid.”

“It’s only natural. Look Pellahen I…”

“It’s just Pella.” She looked at him and bit her lip to keep a smile up. “Only my father called me my whole name.”

Pella, a nice simple name. “Alright, Pella, it’s alright to be afraid… well not to like, be afraid all the time. But when we're afraid that’s… when we can be brave right?”

“I suppose that is true. You’re quite wise aren’t you Sahmat?”

Wise, right. He smiled and shook his head. “No, that's not something I thought of, just something I heard. And, you can call me Sahm.”

“Well, Sahm. You’re going to be out there fighting, what’s your passion?”

There it was again. Passion. Some kind of existential force that made magic real in this world, made Khomu strong despite his age and made the shawl Ebahra made warm despite the thin material. He reached up and touched the cloth still wrapped around him. “I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know your passion?” She tilted her head a bit as she asked that. It must have seemed so strange to them.

Cooking seemed like the natural answer, but he wasn’t sure. “I haven’t felt anything different when I cook or do anything.” Sam turned his eyes up and sighed. “Pella, how do I know what my passion is?”

“Passions are complicated. Even if someone likes doing something that won't necessarily mean it will empower them with the magic of passions. It just… happens I guess.”

“What about you? How did you find your passion?”

Pella stayed quiet for a bit, face scrunching up a bit as she thought of an answer. “I was fourteen. It was Imvalli, the festival of a thousand lights. There was a huge bonfire, food, and music, the drums were beating and so many boys wanted to dance with me. I had never danced when it wasn’t for ceremonies.” Her face lit up, the gorgeous smile returned and she started to glow with a faint golden light. “One of the boys, Rhorun, asked me first. We danced and danced, and soon almost an hour went by and Rhor got tired. He went to sit but I kept on dancing, sometimes with a partner, sometimes alone, but the beat of the drums and flutes kept pushing me on. Before I knew it the festival had died down and I had been dancing all night.”

Sam couldn’t keep himself from smiling as she told her story. “So, your passion is dancing… you’re having a flair right now right?”

She nodded and stood up, swaying side to side, the long dress swishing with her hips. “When the inspiration hits you, just remember the feeling of that moment, and you can flair with passion and power. Right now I feel like I could dance on for an entire day. If you keep that moment locked in your mind, keep feeling that moment and stretching it out, you can use the flair to do anything.”

Pella turned away and walked over to a stone table. She bent down, pinched the edge with her fingers, and lifted the entire table. The same kind of table he’d seen in Khomu and Ebahra’s home weighed so much he could barely drag it across a room. Now he was watching as Pella stepped around in a quick dance as she swung the squat table around like it was a plate.

“That… that’s amazing!”

The table twirled on her hand, she gently flipped it over and finally set it down back in place. “It’s passion.” Within a minute the glow faded from her body and she was sitting down in front of him once more. “That's all I know for sure, my brother is the warrior, he knows how to use the passion in battles better than me.”

“So, got any other advice for me?”

“Just think about what you love, do it some more, and it’ll come to you eventually.” Pella drank a small cup of the goa and lemon juice then stood up. “In my own opinion, discovering your passions is one of the most enjoyable parts of life.”

Sam nodded and drank the last of his cup down. He looked back down to the shawl around him, then pulled it off. There was a cut in the fabric, right over his shoulder. “Before you go, what happened to me? I was chased down and I thought one of those things cut me.”

“That’s the flair of Ebahra’s clothing. Her son Khomuran has a few things she’s made. They never tear and keep him warm. I think her passion and care she put into that shawl protected you, that mongor would’ve cut you down by the river. Instead, you have a small cut.”

Ebahra kept him safe, even as he was running and carrying her. “She is a wonderful woman… I hope she wakes up so I can thank her.”

“We all do. Get some rest, my brother will retrieve you when he needs help.”

“No, no more resting for me.” Sam forced himself to his feet, his legs wobbling just a bit, he took the shawl Ebahra made and threw it back on over his head. “Where’s the gate? I need to do something before I go crazy.” He needed to speak with Jhonu and figure out how to find his passions. He wanted to be useful for once.

Pella watched as he got up “Alright, follow me.”