I wake to the thudding of hooves.

My tiny body has been swaddled in a thick wool blanket, and tied to a horse’s saddle. A green cloaked figure keeps a hand on me, pulling me close.

I can’t make out most of their face, only a strong chin covered in stubble. He whips the reins, urging the horse onwards. Turning his head, the full moon is revealed, peeking through the dark clouds of night.

Things start to sink in, my thoughts whirling round and round as I process everything that has happened. I try to stop thinking, to order my thoughts. So I reach and grab onto one.

I’m a girl.

Well, Cereus had said he wasn’t in charge of what body I was going to be put in, and that there were only so many available. Despite that, I still can’t get past, I’m a girl now.

I take a few deep breaths. I guess it’s too late to ask for a refund. And this might have some interesting possibilities…

I slap myself mentally, stopping that line of thinking. There are more important things to think about.

Cereus had said something about undergoing a ceremony to gain access to the game system. I am pretty sure whatever Tiron did to reveal my “status” was the ceremony.

So, how do I open it up again?

I’ve read a few stories about people going to other worlds with game like systems, so I get the general idea.

Status!

Nothing happens.

Okay, so maybe I can’t think it. Maybe I have to say it?

I try and say status but all I get is a gurgling mush of language, my baby mouth unable to form the correct syllables.

The man carrying me looks down for a second, and rocks me a little, whispering, “It’s alright, little one. All will be fine.”

I glare up at my captor, or at least try to. Failing that, I flail my limbs a bit, trying to punch him in the nose.

My tiny fist brushes across his cheek Like a feather. Success!

He doesn’t say anything, just adjust me on the saddle.

I go back to ignoring him, sifting through my thoughts.

Holding back the flood of emotions that risk overtaking me, I focus on what has happened.

So, I can’t access my status. Do I need that crystal ball to see it?

It makes sense, as it seemed to be projecting the information. Well, that sucks.

They’d done something to me. Stolen something just as valuable as my soul, and I can feel the empty hole from where it was. They stole my Djinn, whatever that is.

Weren’t djinn spouses to be genies? Omnipotent wish granters that would twist you wish around so that it bites you back?

But I don’t think that is an accurate description of what it was. It seemed more like a class of some sort.

Blade Magnus. That was what it was, and from the way Tiron and Everstar where talking, it was a powerful class tied to my blood relation with the Lord.

And they took it from me.

Lord Everstar had called me a bastard child, so I can guess that my new body is that of a child born of wedlock. Also, the fact that I saw my “racial bloodline” and that it said half-elf also seems to be a tip off.

Dear old dad didn’t seem all that great anyways.

He’d referred to me as an it and a mistake, and I can guess that he took me away from my mother. My new mother was an elf.

I still don’t understand exactly what has happened. Why I am a “bastard child” or why I was taken away from my mother. But I know that my new duck of a father has taken me from my mother and stolen my class.

I let the anger through my mental blockade. I have a name. Everstar. And I also have whatever his class his, Blade Magnus. I’m going to find him and get some answers.

I wriggle around in my blankets in mock rage, flinging my tiny fists about in rage. After a bit, I get tired and my flailings cease.

I just look up at the rider and my captor, and the night sky behind him. The moon peeks out through the dark clouds and I can make out the stars every once and awhile.

I don’t recognize any constellations.

My former dad and I used to stargaze while camping. I can still remember it vividly, the smell of smoky wood as the campfire burns merrily. The forest preserve around us dark and the trees rustling with the passage of night critters and wind. Of the gooey s’more I chomped down on while sitting next to my father, taking turns looking out the scope at the stars.

Those were good memories, good times. Before he… passed on.

Now mom is all alone, and she’ll walk into the house, angry from our argument about the party, only to find my body cooling on the wood floor and our valuables plundered.

That is the final straw that breaks the camel’s back, the flood gates opening and emotions rushing over me like a tidal wave.

I start to cry.

My captor shushes me, rocking me gently and whispering comforting words. They don’t help. He doesn’t understand why I am crying, can’t understand. He doesn’t know my pain.

We continue on into the night, my captor riding the horse ragged. Eventually, I get tired of crying and just curl up, exhausted and broken.

The hollowness in my chest remains, like a sinking pit.

I’m completely helpless to my captor’s whims, just a infant unable to move properly, much less run.

Soon, he slows the horse to a canter, then down to a slow walk. Pulling off the road, he stops in a small clearing.

I watch as he dismounts, tying the horse’s reins off to a tree branch. He moves around the animal towards me, reaching up to untie me from the horse.

As he brings me down, I lash out one of my hands, my tiny, pudgy fist striking the man right between the eyes with the force of a gentle breeze.

I gurgle in amusement as he the man rubs the spot.

Maybe I can get used to this being a baby thing.

All that flailing about wasn’t for nothing, I’d gotten the idea of how to rein in my body and control it proper. Though it is more spamming my muscles to do what I want more than control, and I have the accuracy of a drunk monkey.

The green cloaked man straps myself to his chest, and starts unpacking a bag that was attached to the saddle of the horse. Bringing it over to a fallen tree, he sits down.

Pulling out a piece of metal and what looks like flint, he sets it down next to us on the log. He unstraps me from his chest, resting my bundled up form against the log on the ground.

My stomach gurgles in hunger as I stare at the man, watching as he goes around the clearing and edge of the forest, collecting sticks and wood.

I it starts to slowly sink in. I’m in a medieval world. That means no internet, toilet paper, or even pizza.

For not the first time, I wonder if I should have taken Cereus’s deal. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea, then again, I also wasn’t connected to my emotions. Too late now.

Watching idly as the man constructs a campfire, I start wiggling my fingers and trying to get them to obey me. It isn’t easy.

Once the man gets the fire going with his flint and steel, he moves back over to me. He checks on me, waving a finger in front of my a cooing baby noises.

Don’t patronize me, you’ll live to regret it!

I manage to get my left hand’s fingers around his one giant one, and waggle it around in rage. I also try to bite it, but find that with only gums and nod teeth, all I’m doing is amusing the made.

Gurgling in anger and brooding, I watch as the man extracts a leather bladder filled with some kind of liquid from the bag. He pops the cap, sniffing it and then closing it again.

He moves over to the fire, hovering the oiled leather pouch over the fire. It takes me a minute to figure out why he is doing it.

He’s heating it up.

After a bit, he moves there bag away from the fire and comes back over, sitting down on the log.

Picking me up, I finally get a clear view of the clearing. The forest is pushed back in a rough circle, the trunks cloaked in night. The fireplace throws moving shadows everywhere, providing light for several feet.

The man uncorks the leather bladder and holds it up to my mouth.

Uh, what are you doing? Don’t bring that thing near me!

Despite my whining, gurgling protests, the man pops it into my mouth, tipping it so a drizzle of what is inside flows into my mouth.

It is a warm mixture with a rancid-like taste. I scrunch my face up and push at the man’s hands. I choke on the foul substance, gagging at the taste.

Ew, ew, ew! That is disgusting! You can keep whatever it is.

He pulls the pouch filled with the evil substance away from my mouth, chuckling and saying in a lightly accented voice, “Don’t much like goat’s milk? Too bad, though, kiddo. Ya’ gotta eat something.”

He brings the mouth of the leather bladder back up to my mouth and I gurgle in protest. I try and bat it away, but my mighty blows might as well be a feather.

He pops bottle back in my mouth, the warm liquid streaming over my tongue and into my stomach. I force it down, glaring at him the whole time and trying not to gag.

I start pushing on the bottle, or at least trying to, and the man extracts the nozzle from my mouth with a pop.

Uuuuhhhg, I feel so full. And I want to barf.

A burp wiggles its way up from my stomach, exploding from my lips.

The man chuckles a little, bringing the bottle back up. I scrunch my neck up, trying to pull away from the leather pouch and its nozzle.

If I throw up on you, it isn’t my fault!

He stops at the last moment, the nozzle hovering before me for a second, then he pulls it back, capping it. “Not hungry anymore? Good.”

The man sets me back down on the ground, off to his left.

My captor stuffs the leather bladder back into his bag, pulling out a roll of wax paper and a flask. He unrolls the paper, pulling out a few strips of dried meat and a loaf of bread.

Splitting the bread in half, he puts the rest of the food away.

I glare the best I can at him, I flail my arms about a bit, trying to give him the bird.

The man sits there, staring back at me and taking a bite of the salted and dried meat, ocasinaly taking a swig from his flask.

I hope you choke on that bread.

The man rips a bit of bread off the half loaf, popping it into his mouth. He looks my tiny form up and down, assessing. Then he says with a full mouth, flecks of chewed bread flinging out of his mouth, “Ya’ probably don’t even understand me, but this is gonna’ be a long trip, so might as well.”

He holds out a his hand, “I’m Calter, though most call me Cal.”

I try to reach out to grab his calloused hand, but my arm just flops around. Curse this body!

I settle for trying to blow a raspberry at him, all I end up with is covering my chin with drool.

The man shakes his back and forth, barks a laugh, and drops his hand. Going back to his meal, his gaze wanders to the fire.

A yawn coaxes itself from my mouth, and I can sleepiness creeping up on me. God darn it! Why do I need to sleep so much?

I glare at the man as my eyelids shut of their own volition and I fall into a deep sleep.

***

I close my eyes, feeling the hollowness inside my chest.

I’m still not sure how, but I can reach my consciousness out, kind of like extending a third arm. It’s like having an extra sense, an awareness of something, even if you can’t see it, but the only problem is that I can’t do it well.

I can branch my mind out into my body with relative ease, but trying to push my mind’s awareness out is like trying to push through molasses. I can feel that I can do it, it’s just that I don’t have enough skill or that I’m doing something wrong.

Moving my awareness to my heart, I get the faint impression of a empty hole, a hollowness, and strands of something tangled up in the center. It’s not actually in my heart, but more like above it, in a different dimension. A space that isn’t really there, but there.

Or like a spiritual realm or something.

I poke around the hollowness that is inside my chest, and can tell something is missing. Something vital. My Djinn.

I’ve been trying to puzzle out what exactly a djinn is for the past week, while my captor, Cal, having ridden his horse to near death the first two days, then calmed down after.

We’ve ridden through several villages, stopping in a few to resupply, the forest turning slowly into a more mountainous region as we go higher. Wherever he is taking me, it is quite far from where ever I was born.

And he can’t be bothered to buy anything other than goat’s milk.

I’ve gained a new passion, that of despising anything goat related. Who in their right mind started milking bloody goats? Rancid, curdled milk would be preferable to the stuff!

I go back to my probing.

The sense that something has been ripped from me isn’t the only thing I get when I explore the hollowness. There are some kind of strands, ropes, tied up in the center.

This must be what is stopping me from making “bonds” with more Djinn, as Tiron put it.

I’ve tried to unknot it, but it feels like there’s a complex puzzle on top of the knot, like a lock. My attempts at unlocking whatever mechanism that holds it have been less than successful.

I eventually got so tired of it that I started mentally bashing at it, and all that gave me was a headache.

Having a headache while being a baby sucks! Felt like my entire brain was on fire.

I crack open my eyes, peering out of the warm blanket bundle and to the bright, cold outside world. It’s gotten increasingly frigid, the terrain becoming more rocky, the dark forest turning to coniferous trees.

Cal speaks sometimes, thinking out loud perhaps. Whether he thinks he's talking to me, himself or even the horse, I have no clue. But he sometimes talks about the world, and that information I greedly soak up like a sponge.

“You’re a half elf, aren’t ya? I can tell by the ears, even if they’re small,” He says in a low tone, staring off into the distance, “You’ll not have an easy life, that’s for sure. Ya’ see, elves used to rule tha’ world, before the Fractured Age… Hah, look at me, talking to a freaken’ baby. I must be going mad.”

I gurgle, trying to encourage him on.

He glances down, and shakes his head, “I’d swear you understand me, but that’s ridiculous. Though… before the Shattered Era, elves ruled over nearly the entirety of Akaron. Of course, they were split into several nations.

Back then they used to go by a multitude of names, the elves I mean. There were the dusk elves, tree elves, high elves, sea elves, even freakin’ dawn elves. Nowadays, they’re all just called elves.” He looks down at me, adjusting the fur blanket around my face to better cover it against the frigid wind. “I’d say you’re half dawn elf, got that bronze-like skin of theirs.”

He adjusts his position on the saddle, sitting up a little straighter as his horse plods down the dirt path. “Elves used to be everywhere, ‘course there were humans too, and the dwarden, before they followed the same path as the Ancestors. Multitudes of races back then, hailed it as the Golden Era. But, back to tha’ elves, they ruled Akaron, from the Storm Sea to the red cliffs of Hunrah. Their nations squabbled with each other, but never to the point of a war. A more peaceful time than now, it was.

“Then the Fracturing happened. Devastating enough to rival that of what the Ancestors did. It’s said the humans got fed up with being the oppressed, ‘cause the elves liked to keep ‘em as slaves, and so they became the oppressors. ‘Course, that wouldn’t have happened without the start of the Fracturing, the opening of the Spirit Well.

“They say it lit up the night sky like the sun had come down to grace Akaron with its blazing fury. History speaks of the man that did it, the first Djinni. His real name, well, no one remembers it, just the title he went by; Tha’ Revenant.

“He rose up against the elves, the rulers of the world, and overthrew them by using an army of Djinni, spirit warriors. Historians say that Revenant was slain several times in the ensuing war with tha’ elves, but he always came back, somehow. ‘Course, he won, at great cost. Millions died, but the elves’ empires, alliances and nations were left as rubble, much like the Ancestors. Soon after, the Revenant, having led the human race to victory, placed himself as Emperor.

“I’d say he was an arrogant bastard, selfish and craving power. Well, he got it. He had subjugated the whole of Akaron, through much bloodshed. People say that he’d gone mad, but I don’ think that to be true. He just got to big for his britches, his empire to vast to monitor.

“The generals, lieutenants and any number of official set themselves up as Nobles. Greedy, they were, and they weren’t content to let the Revenant sit on the throne. So, years later, they rebelled. Their rebelling shook the empire to it’s foundations, Fracturing it as Nobles fought against Nobles, tearing it apart.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Now, records speak of the Revenant, that he couldn’t die. That his soul was immortal. Some think he was a god, others think his Djinn was the reason he was unkillable. Some even think he became a Djinn with a body because he was the one that opened the Spirit Well. Really, no one knows. The only thing known was he always came back from death, and was vastly powerful. So, when the Nobles rebelled, they made sure they had a way to subdue him.

“History speaks of them plotting for years on how to kill him. It is said they slayed him, with no small amount of effort, then wrent his soul into pieces, trapping them in vessels. Objects like crystals, swords, crowns, all manner of things. The nobles that slayed him scattered these Vessels all across the world, preventing the Revenant from ever coming back.

“‘Course, it’s all more legend than history, myth even. There ain’t much proof that the Revenant ever existed, just that a powerful Djinni led a rebellion against the elven oppressors, and won. ‘Just that after, the many human powers that came together Fractured into kingdoms and nations, all fighting over power over the others.

“But some believe that the vessels that contain fragments of the Revenant’s power lie scattered and hidden, waiting to be used, to be completed. For me, though, I think it’s a load of carp. Hah! What do you think of that, girlie?” He looks down at me, his brown eyes filled with humor and rocking me a little in the cradle of furs and blankets.

I gurgle back at him, unable to tell him that I want him to take me back. Or to at least know where he is taking me. Though that was a pretty interesting story. At least I know something about where I am.

That tale got me thinking. If the Revenant,came back from death every time, was he something like me? A person who got a chance to be reborn, only revived several times instead?

What exactly is this ‘Spirit Well’, and how does it connect with the Djinn?

Cal stays silent for several hours, idly scanning the surroundings while I tried to push my mind past the boundaries of my body.

He speaks after a while, the sky having darkened significantly. My captor looks down at me, his brow scrunching up, “I know you’re an Everstar bastard, but did the lord make you a Djinni before he sent you off? He did take a bit of time with you before giving ya’ to me.”

The man rummages in a pocket concealed in his cloak, pulling out a glove.

It’s made of thick worn leather, the fingers having been cut off. What makes it interesting is the half crystal that rests on the back of the hand, symbols spiraling around it.

“It’s been bothering me, why he would let you go. I’d have half expected him to off ya’ right when ya’ were born, so that you wouldn’t be a threat to him in the future.” Cal pulls the glove on his right hand, flexing his fingers.

He extracts one of my hands from the blankets. Curious of what he’s doing, I let him touch my hand to the crystal on the glove.

I watch as my status screen springs to life in front of Cal, the man looking it over.

Status:

  Name: Kara Suntec Everstar

  Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf

  Gender: Female

  Age: 0

Djinn:

  N/A

Statistics:

  CON: 1

  STR: 1

  DEX: 1

  INT: 1

  ARC: N/A

  Free Perk Points: 0

Skills:

  N/A

My captor looks puzzled, and shakes his head. “So you are a Djinni, just not one with a Djinn? Strange, even stranger that he would make you one, and your Arcane is messed up. I’d have expected ya’ to have a blood-bound djinn, like the Lord’s. Though, that is probably the reason ya’ aren’t dead now.”

I gurgle at the man, waving my hands about and kicking my legs a bit. He takes off the glove, the status page disappearing from the air. Stuffing it back into his cloak, he enshrouds me in the blankets again, insulating me from the cold.

So I’m a Djinni? One of the spirit warriors? I guess that kind of makes sense.

Cal glances at me, “I suppose you’re lucky, even if ya’ don’t got a Djinn. Most folks nowadays can’t afford the cost of the ceremony. In the old days, back when the Well was first opened, they just dunked people in it and they’d get a Djinn, requiring of course that they survived it. Then the Djinni made the Ceremony of Binding, which only requires some fancy rune scripting and ya’ be near a Spirit Fissure. Then, bam! Ya’ got yerself a Djinn and are considered a Djinni.”

Now, that is useful to know. Even if I don’t got a Djinn of my own now, and can’t get one. It means that Djinni aren't common.

I eye the pocket he put the glove in. If he has one of those strange crystals that reveal the status screen, does that make him a Djinni too?

Almost like he read my mind, Cal says, “Not to worry, though girlie. ‘Cause ol’ Cal here is a Djinni too. I ain’t anything quite as special as Lord Everstar, of course. Just a Vermillion Metalmancer. Nothing gonna hurt us out here with me around.”

I’m a man, god damn it! Not a… girl.

He doesn’t elaborate further, and I glare at him, gurgling at him in annoyance. I close my eyes, going back to the only source of entertainment I have. Trying to figure out how to unlock the strands and push my awareness out of my body.

Time goes by, we stop for the night, Cal building a large fire and rolling out a bed roll. He feeds me the evil goat’s milk again, munches on some of his rations and goes to sleep with me bundled up in the crook of his arm.

The first few times he slept with me in the bed roll, I pitched a fit. Eventually, I got tired of it and stopped. The fact that the climate continues to get colder the further we travel also contributed to the fact that I stopped complaining. But I still don’t like it.

I stare up at the night sky, only a few clouds insight. It’s so much brighter than from when I lived on earth. No light pollution to block out the stars.

And strangely, the air feels cleaner too.

It wasn’t something I noticed before, probably because I’d grown up in the suburbs. Out here, on this world wherever it is, there isn’t any pollution. The night sky is crystal clear, the stars shining alongside the moon like light bulbs.

It’s beautiful.

I shift around a little, not feeling the need to sleep, having already slept a while ago. The long journey that we have been going on has worn my complaints down, mostly because I can’t voice any.

I hate being a baby. Who knew it sucked so much.

I’d still not exactly come to terms with my less than ideal departure from earth. And my arriving here.

This is like a bad gender bender fiction, I don’t want to be a girl!

My complaints go unheard, and I go back to exploring this strange awareness I have of my tiny body.

Soon after that, I fall into a restless sleep.

***

I yawn, my toothless gums snapping together as I feel the galloping of the horse.

I’m not sure, but I think it has been about a week an 3 days, though time blends together. My frequent power naps don’t help keep track of time either.

Cal has been his silent self, occasionally checking on me. I still don’t have a lick of a clue where he is taking me, but from what Everstar said, it’s on the “fringes of civilization”.

A dot of cold strikes the tip of my nose, and I blink, my eyes going crossed as I look at my button of a nose. A small drop of water rests on it.

I look at the sky, dark gray clouds cover it all, not a hint of blue anywhere. Dots of white slowly drift down from the sky, twirling in the air.

Cal watches one of the dots pass by, “It’s snowing. Let’s hope it doesn’t turn to a blizzard, eh girlie?”

I gurgle in annoyance. I swear, if you call me girlie one more time, I’m going to barf on you the next time you force feed me that vile milk.

I watch idly as the snowfall increases, fat snowflakes drifting past us and sticking to the cold ground. It has been getting increasingly frigid, our elevation increasing rather drastically. The trees have gotten more sparse and the landscape more rocky.

I can see a ridge of mountains above us, though it’s hard to make out from my angle and the fact that I’m a baby and god darn it, turning your head is hard.

The horse, with us on its back, continues to trudge forwards along the winding and snaking path. We have started climbing into a pass between two rather large, jagged mountains.

I’m interrupted from my idle pondering philosophical thoughts on the world, the meaning of life and why I am even here by Cal.

“Almost there, just a mile or two,” He says in a hushed whisper. I gurgle at him my annoyance of being interrupted from my thoughts.

He glances down and looks back up, holding the reins of the horse in one hand as he carefully guides it up the rocky slope. “You’ve been a rather well behaved child. More so than I thought you would. And I’d swear, you understand at least part of what I say.”

Yes, I understand you perfectly. And you smell, your looks are more average than average and you are finally getting that I have been insulting you this entire trip. Is what I want to say, but my vocal chords don’t cooperate, along with the fact that I don’t have teeth, so I end up gurgling something that sounds like ‘birche’.

I’ve come a long way in motor control skills, but I am far from mastery. I can move my fingers, but not independently, so I am a far ways off from being able to give Cal the bird.

I’m interrupted once again, this time during my practice of raising my tiny, pudgy middle finger.

There is a growling, and I watch over Cal’s shoulder as a mass of fur leaps off a rocky ledge we just passed. It is massive, and a roar ripples through the air as the blur crashes into the back end of the horse.

Me and Cal are flung from the horse, my captor scrambling to grab me and protect me. We crash into a bank of thin snow, Cal rolling up to protect my small fragile form.

My ears are filled with a horrid screaming, the horse shrieking it’s pain.

Once my eyes stop spinning in my cranium and Cal rolls over, I get a look at what has attacked us.

It looks similar to a brown bear, the massive head and paws, thick brown fur and rippling muscles. But that’s where the similarities end. It has six large, powerful legs tipped in four razor sharp claws. Four of those legs are upper limbs, with two hind legs. Its muscles ripple under its thick hide and fur, and it is covered in what appears to be thick plates of stone, almost like armor. The stone plates run along its back, encasing the upper half of its head and its six limbs, the underside devoid of them.

The thing is slicing into our horse, the beast carving it up and smashing it into the ground with a spit flecked roar.

The poor horse lays broken on the ground, its guts hanging out as its horrible screeches fill the air. It kicks its back legs in vain, flailing on the ground.

With a roar, the beast slams one of its massive paws into the horse’s head, a crack and crunch resounding. The horse falls quite, steam rising in the air from its cooling corpse.

Cal gasps, cradling me in his arms as he crawls back.

My eyes are riveted to the beast.

What in god’s name is that thing?

My captor whispers one pained word, “Ursa!”

He scrambles to his feet, cradling me to his chest in the crook of his arm. He quickly throws the strap that kept me attached to the horse over his back, letting me fall to his chest like some kind of bandolier.

The ursa looks up from its meal at us, its maw dripping blood and the fur of its muzzle stained crimson. It looks at us with rage and hunger.

A involuntary wail worms itself from my throat as the beast notices us. Eat Cal first!

The ursa hops off the corpse of the horse, slowly stalking forward, its breaths billowing out in white clouds.

Cal takes several steps back, then stops and glances back, grimacing. Behind us is a steep drop off, trees clinging to the frozen soil on the side of the mountain.

We’re trapped. Dread fills my tiny body, and I gurgle in fear.

Cal takes a step towards the right, then another, slowly moving as the ursa cautiously approaches us. I stay quiet out of fear, afraid that if I make a noise, the beast will charge us.

Cal’s breathing has steadied out, and he stars at the ursa calmly as he slowly shuffles in a semi circle. The ursa follows us, a roar building in its throat.

The snow is now in a flurry, wind whipping at us and blowing drafts of snow over the edge of the forested cliff. I can feel my cheeks reddening from the cold, but also the blood draining from it.

The ursa lets out a roar, pounding the ground and launching itself towards us, with surprising speed for its size.

Cal immediately tumbles into a roll, jumping towards the dead horse.

The world spins and comes back upright as Cal lands on his feet, launching himself over to the cooling corpse. He immediately reaches towards the saddle bags.

I watch as the massive shadow of the ursa looms behind us.

Cal wrenches himself to the left, barely ducking under a massive swing of the beast’s paw.

Coming back to his feet, he scrambles around the corpse of the horse, using it as a barrier.

The ursa lets loose another roar, bloodied saliva raining down from the air and its sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. The snow sticks to the beast’s stone plate armor, but melts when it touches its fur, covering it a blast of white.

Cal curses profusely, running to the right along the ground, my tiny body bouncing against his chest.

The ursa leaps over the body of the horse, landing with a ground shaking thump and air splitting roar. It turns to face us, Cal now standing several feet away from the horse.

He snarls, “Come and get me ugly.”

I gurgle at him in desperation. Don’t taunt it!

The stone plated beast roars, leaping forwards at us, four of its paws raised in the air to come crashing down on us.

Time seems to slow, the bear like monster moving through the air, the snow whipping by slowly. My eyes widen in horror as the beast’s shadow looms over us.

Cal bursts into action, rolling to the right and out of the path of the ursa. He hops to his feet, launching himself at the horse’s corpse, making a mad dash for the saddle bags.

The ursa comes down on the dirt path with a tremendous crash, fur and claws flashing in the cloud of snow that explodes outwards from its landing spot. A roar of outrage rips from its throat as it turns, preparing to charge us again.

Cal darts his hand into the saddle bag, tearing open the straps of the leather bag. Black metal shards spill out, glinting and falling into the puddle of crimson that surrounds the horse.

I can’t help but let out a wail as the ursa charges us, a grutal roar tearing through the frigid, snow air.

Cal holds his shaking hands over the metal shards, uttering strange words in quick succession. The shards seem to gleam with a silvery light as he finishes.

He thrusts his hands out towards the ursa, screaming, “KEEL!”

The shards shake, and I watch in slow motion as they lift from the ground, floating in the air for a second. Then they launch forwards in a deadly, spiky pillar of metal.

The stone plated ursa and the whirlwind of dark metal shards crash into each other, sparks flying. Most of the spikes spark off its stony hide, but a few lodge themselves between the cracks and deep into its flesh.

The ursa stumbles, a scream-like roar ripping itself from the beasts snout.

Cal leaps back, waving his hands as he tries to desperately put distance between us and the ursa. But he isn’t fast enough.

The ursa throws a massive right paw out blindly, the thing whistle through the air and sending the snowflakes into a furry.

It crashes into Cal’s shoulder with a sickening crunch, and I can feel the massive amount of force as it ripples through Cal. We go flying through the air, flung halfway across the road.

Cal screams in pain, rolling on the ground. We stop just short of the rocky ledge into white oblivion.

The snow storm has picked up, large flurries of snow whipping across the mountain side.

Cal crawls to his feet, gritting his teeth and raising his right arm, his left hanging limp. He twists his hand into a claw, whipping it around.

The metal shards come flying, hovering up from the ground and fling towards us. They twirl around us in a dark, deadly steel whirlwind.

The ursa is bleeding now, from a dozen deep gashes, dark shards lodged in its hide. Chinks of stone are in its armor, and some metal spikes are embedded in the stone plating.

It stares at us warily, blood flowing freely from a gash in its head. It lets out a roar, raising up on its back legs and bringing itself up to its full height.

It towers over us at about 12 feet, snow flowing around it.

The ursa brings itself back down, smashing its paws into the earth with a crash. I watch in horror as the earth cracks and spikes of stone hurl themselves at us.

Cal whips his arm around, the metal shards flying in front of us. They clink together, forming a thick shield of metal.

There is a screech of metal being ripped, and I watch as several stone spikes punch partially through the tight knit shield of metal shards, stopping only a few inches from us.

Holy cow!

Cal grits his teeth, flinging his arm forwards.

The shield unlocks itself, the metal shards flying forwards. They rip through the snowy air at the ursa, only this time the beast is ready.

It roars, shifting itself to take the brunt of the attack on its shoulder, the shards sparking off and only leaving chinks in its thick armor.

The ursa growls, taking several steps back as the swarm of metal shards flies back towards us, twirling behind Cal and flinging forwards over his broken shoulder.

They rip through the snow, the air whistling with their passage.

The ursa lets loose another rage filled roar, and starts retreating. It quickly turns tail, running back the way we came, its lumbering form disappearing into the snowy storm.

Cal brings his right hand up, curling it into a fist. The shards stop instantly, then he jerks his hand back, and the fling towards us.

He’s gasping for breath, his green cloak wet with snow and mud, blood streaming down his limp left arm from the gash torn into his shoulder.

We won! We actually won!

The dark shards hover around us, the bitter cold wind whipping the snow in our faces and around us. Cal stumbles towards the corpse of the horse, his breathing falling into a rhythm.

I take everything back Cal, you’re freaking awesome!

I try to gurgle my appreciation and thanks, but Cal ignores me.

He starts rummaging through the bloody saddle bags, his breaths short and in quick gasps of pain as he jolts his left arm around. He unstraps the ration bag, unhooking the flap with shaky, numb fingers.

The shards gently float over, their points facing upwards. They glint with a silvery aura as they coalesce above the bag, and slowly lower themselves inside it.

They tinkle and clink together as they fall inside the backpack, and Cal lets out a gasp of relief as he lets go of control.

The dark shards stop glinting with the silvery light as Cal’s control over them lapses. He buttons the leather bag up.

He grits his teeth as he stands up, cradling his arm to his chest along with me. Moving back to the saddle bags, he grabs a rolled up blanket from one of the bags, unrolling it with a swoosh.

He pulls out a knife from a sheath on his belt, and stars cutting the blanket up hurriedly. Soon, he has fashioned a crude sling for his arm, along with a bandage for his shoulder.

Damn, he’s like some kind of rambo or something.

Cal swings the strap of my bandolier over his shoulder, setting me gently down on the ground. He wraps the sling around his arm, tightening it so his arm is cradled close to his chest.

I watch as he shakily wraps the bandage around the gash in his broken shoulder, tying it off and pulling it tight with a groan of pain. I watch as the brown of the blanket quickly stains crimson, a blossom of red appearing on it.

Cal stoops down, picking me up with his good arm. He puts the leather straps back over his right shoulder, strapping me to his chest like a carrier. He wraps the green, soggy cloak around me, offering minimal protection against the bitter wind.

He barks out a laugh, looking down at me, “You’ll have a quite a tale to tell, and me the scars to prove it, aye?”

Moving over to where he left the bag full of metal shards, he loops an arm through it and swings it onto his back with a grunt of pain.

Cal starts trudging through the snow, following the road up. The blizzard has gotten so bad that we can only see a few feet in front of us.

He whispers something to me that makes my heart run colder than the snow whipping into our faces, “It’ll be back, it's probably watching us right now, licking its wounds. Working up the courage for another attack.”

I can see Cal’s eyes darting around, back and forth, scanning the snow cloaked mountainous forest. His eyes are hard, a steel will showing through them.

It’s hunting us? Fear bites at my heart, and I can’t help but feel even more helpless. I’m trapped in the body of a baby, not even able to speak much less help. My life is entirely in Cal’s hands.

Cal speaks again, whether it is it me or to himself, I’m not sure. “A cave to hide in is out of the question. The Jagged Maw doesn’t have many, and it isn’t safe to stay out here with the ursa about. Our only option is Carlisle, it’s only a mile or two up the road. But the blizzard is going to make it harder,and there’s no telling where the ursa is going to come from.”

He trudges through the quickly building up snow, the ground now covered in several inches of the white powder. His teeth chatter in the cold, and he hugs me close, trying to keep me warm.

The cold is biting, worming its way down to the marrow of my bones. It’s at times like these I would kill for a warm fireplace mantle and a cup of hot chocolate. But I’d be lucky to find a fireplace, much less hot choco.

Cal walks against the whipping wind, his thick wool cloak pulled tight and his eyes squinted against the flying snow. The bag full of dark shards clinks everytime he takes a step forward, the wind howling it’s outrage at us as it tries to launch us over the edge of the path.

Call mutters under his breath, “Why couldn’t you have been born in the summer, girlie?”

I force a gurgle out. Hey, I didn’t choose to be reborn into this body.

We trudge on through the blizzard, jagged rocks looming out of the snow and vanishing back in as we climb alongside of the mountain. I keep my eyes peeled along with Cal for any sign of the ursa.

Maybe it gave up because of the snow storm.

Cal keeps me close to his chest, making sure I am protected against the worst of the storm.

He says through chattering teeth, “You’re most definitely not a normal child. Any other baby would be bawling its eyes out by now, not being silent. If we make it through this, I’m going to sleep for a bloody year.”

A strong gust of wind hits us straight on, and Cal stumbles, nearly losing his balance but catching himself at the last second. He continues to push onwards, through the now knee high snow drifts.

I can barely see five feet in front of us, the snow whipping past at a blur.

Cal continues to speak, and I realise that he is trying to keep himself awake, his eyes drooping dangerously. “Why couldn’t I have been a Flamemancer, or even a Fire Magnus? Maybe an Elementalist? No, I just had to get the Metalmancy Djinn.”

I look at his bandaged shoulder. His cloak is covered in snow, and I can see a massive dark stain over his shoulder. The makeshift bandage is barely keeping the blood loss above fatal, and the cold is taking a heavy effect on him. He won’t be able to go for much longer.

We’re going to die, aren’t we?

I don’t want to die, not for a second time. The first time was horrible enough, being murdered is nearly as bad as freezing to death.

A massive, dark shape looms out of the white screen of snow in front of us, and for a second I fly into a moment of panic. Then it is revealed to be a wooden log spiked wall, a wooden plank gate shut tight.

Cal breathes a breathless whisper, “Carlisle.”

A shape appears over the wall, a torch’s flame whipping in the frigid wind. They shout something, but it is torn away by the wind.

Suddenly, the ground shakes with a mighty roar.

Cal turns around, the hulking form of the ursa lumbering out of the snow behind us. It is blazing towards us at a full charge, its six thick legs pounding into the ground.

Cal’s eyes widen, and he starts sprinting towards the gate.

The guard up on the wall is waving and screaming, urging us on.

The ground shakes with each bound of the ursa, it’s size letting it cut through the snow. It’s gaining ground on us, barely a few feet away.

Cal is in a dead sprint, pushing against the bitter wind and the knee deep snow, his face twisted in pain.

The one of the doors of the wooden gate swings open, revealing a fur clothed guard holding it open. The guard up on the wall is shouting and waving desperately.

Cal’s gasps come breathless, his chest heaving.

Time seems to slow as I watch over his shoulder, the ursa a mere foot from us. It’s powerful legs slam into the snowy, frozen ground, the corded muscle rippling under the shinked stone plates and fur. I watch as it bunches up, and with explosive force, launches itself forward into a snarling leap.

Cal lets loose a roar of his once, bounding forward through the snow. We are feet away from the gate.

He bounces into a slide, tumbling through the gate.

The ursa lands in a cloud of snow, roaring its rage. The wooden gate slams closed, a solid wood bar falling down over it. I watch as it nearly caves in with a crack, the ursa smashing into the gate.

The guards rush about, pushing back on the gate to reinforce it. The wind carries on it the bloodthirsty, rage induced roars of the ursa.

I can see guards up on the walls dipping arrows in flaming cans of oil, lighting the tips on fire. They launch them in volleys over the wall, directed near the gate.

I watch as the gate cracks, a sliver of wood splintering off as the ursa wails on the wood.

Cal scrambles away form the door, clutching me close and gasping.

There is one final grutal roar, then the pounding on the gate stops. Another roars comes over the wall, this one more distant as the ursa gives up pursuit of us.

Cal barks out a harsh laugh, looking at me in sheer relief, “We made it! We made it.”

His head falls back into the mush brown snow of the village, lolling about as he loses consciousness.

I can only think of one thing. Hah! Look who’s falling asleep now!