Sergey chewed mechanically on a large piece of tough sponge he had torn from the bark of a dying oak. The days passed endlessly slowly as he wandered. He drank from streams and puddles and ate anything that was digestible and would not run away. When night came, he walked until he couldn't walk anymore, and then he just collapsed and slept until he woke up the next morning and started all over again. It would have been impossible for him to hunt an animal for a more substantial meal in this condition. By now, he stank so badly that any potential prey would have smelled him from afar and run away. From time to time, he would be circled by flies trying to land on him. However, his skin was gradually losing its grayish tint, and the blackness on his fingertips was fading. However, it was no longer noticeable under the crust of dirt that still covered him and grew thicker with each passing day.

"Sergey," Stella said, looking at him from the side. The creature, whose blurred outline was often hard to see, depending on the light, had been hovering silently next to him the whole time and had usually remained quiet. They hadn't exchanged any words in the last few days and hadn't met anyone else.

"Hm?" Sergey grunted and continued to chew on the piece of sponge, his tired eyes never leaving the path. Undeterred, he continued to shuffle along the dirt road. His boots were now in a desolate state.

"Sergey, this is boring! Nothing exciting is happening. It's been ten days! How much longer do I have to watch you eating weeds? How much longer is it going to be?" asked Stella with a clearly reproachful undertone. But he took his time to answer, swallowed the dry and tasteless mass in his mouth with difficulty, and then coughed briefly.

"How should I know?" he replied. The midday sun beat down on him. Not much longer and he would have to look for water again to keep from drying out.

"Still no memories?" Stella asked impatiently.

"No," Sergey sighed and bit into the tree sponge again. "My head is empty, just empty. No matter how long I think about it, nothing new comes to mind. It's as if I never existed." Stella was still looking at him.

"I'm sorry to have to say this, but it looks like these memories won't come back on their own. While your other organs have stopped working, I was able to preserve your brain at least enough to keep your basic abilities intact. I could imagine a memory returning if you were directly confronted with something or someone from your past. Other people, places, certain impressions, something like that. But maybe not, I don't know enough about you humans for that," Stella explained.

"Maybe I wanted to go south because that's where my home is?" Sergey interjected. It was at least a glimmer of hope that he wanted to keep. "If what you say is true, could I possibly remember when I meet people from my past? Maybe someone down south knows me?"

"Yes, maybe," Stella replied. "And hopefully that will happen soon. Or at least something else, this boredom is almost unbearable. Anything is better than this." Sergey turned to the figure and threw the rest of the tree sponge at her. The bitten piece flew through the faintly glowing figure and landed in the grass behind her.

"I'm not responsible for your entertainment, you pleasure-seeking cloud of exhaust fumes!" Sergey growled at her, irritated. "I didn't ask to come back from the dead and wander around aimlessly in the middle of nowhere! Should I be grateful for that or what?"

"I'm sorry, you're right," Stella whispered, slightly dejected. "I just thought it would be different, more exciting..."

"More exciting?" He shook his head in disbelief. The whole situation was bizarre enough, and now this.

"Yes, more exciting. More interesting, more thrilling. You know. Big cities with pulsating life, lights, sounds, languages, music, lots of new impressions... I want to learn something!" Stella said, circling around him. Sergey stopped and followed the figure with a confused look.

"You want to learn something and that's why you brought me back to life? It sounds to me more like you just wanted to have fun?"

"You don't understand," Stella replied, doing a quick pirouette next to him.

"Then explain..." Sergey started to answer, but was cut off. There had been a sound, a bang like an explosion, far away from here, coming from the south.

"Did you hear that?" Stella asked.

"Yes," he answered curtly, listening intently to see if anything else could be heard.

"I know for a fact that you heard that. I fixed your hearing right after I fixed your brain. The sound came from the direction we're heading. Maybe it's the target you're looking for?" The former hunter just shrugged, swatted at a fat blowfly crawling on his head, and resumed his march.

"One minute you're silent, the next you're babbling like a waterfall..." he grumbled.

It was late evening when they reached the source of the sound. Before them was a huge hole in the landscape, dug in stages by heavy machinery. It was an iron mine, as several information and danger signs explained. Sergey estimated that the circular mine must be at least two kilometers in diameter. In the last light of day, excavators and dump trucks were still driving around, their heavy engines roaring up from below. A large group of them had gathered around an uneven area deeper inside the giant funnel. They had probably hit harder rock there and set off an explosion around noon. That was the sound they had heard.

"Look, there, other people! Sergey, look! You must go and talk to them right away! This is probably where you wanted to go. This place is conspicuous enough, it can't be otherwise," Stella instructed enthusiastically.

"Yes, that sounds quite likely," Sergey agreed, nodding. "The shelters are over there," he said, pointing to a collection of rusty construction trailers, tents and containers, also well past their prime, a few hundred meters away.

"Wonderful! Hurry!" the shadowy figure urged him on, and he set off. As they approached the makeshift settlement, they could make out three men in dirty work clothes sitting around a campfire, guarding a cauldron over the fire and chatting. When they noticed Sergey, they got up and slowly approached him, stopping in front of him with a skeptical look.

"Hello," Sergey said curtly. The middle man was the tallest of the trio. Stocky, broad chin, forearms covered with colorful tattoos, short cropped hair. The one on the left was the complete opposite, rather slight, black curls, glasses with extremely thick lenses on his nose, making his eyes look comically oversized. The one on the right was also stocky, with short blond hair, a few broad scars on his face, and bony paws for hands.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you read the signs? This is a restricted area," the middle one replied coldly.

"I wanted to ask you if you know me. My name is Sergey Gromov," Sergey replied. The three looked at each other uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"Nobody knows you here. Now get out!" the middle one snapped at him.

"He's probably got some kind of disease, let's not get too close to him," the lanky one said, taking a step back.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Aye, just look at his skin," the one on the right agreed. "He looks like a leper! Get out of here!"

"You don't know me, what should I do? Do you have any ideas?" said Sergey to Stella, disappointed. The figure was still hovering right next to him.

"Who are you talking to? Guys, he's crazy too and he smells like a sewer!" the middle one barked at his comrades more aggressively now.

"Sergey, they can't see me, only you can. Maybe I should have told you before," Stella said meekly.

"What? Damn it, why are you only telling me now?" Sergey growled at Stella.

"Hey, calm down, this is the first time for me too, okay?" the figure defended herself.

"Enough of this shit, get out of here!" the middle one yelled at him, while the lanky one took another step back, now holding a stained handkerchief to his mouth and nose.

"Stay here, Dimitri," the right one grunted. "You'll be back in your office soon enough."

"So... um... could I have something to eat and drink? I'm not causing any problems, certainly not, I can work for it too...", Sergey turned back to the middle one, despite his aggressive attitude. Maybe he could defuse the situation. He had to take this chance. Even at the risk that this place might not be the destination of his journey. He had to talk to other people, live among them. How else would he get information, how else would he be able to answer his questions? And he had had enough of tree sponges and grass, the tea over there on the fire smelled delicious to them.

"Last warning, bum!" the middle one snapped at him.

"I'm not causing any trouble, I just want to work for you," Sergey asserted, raising his hands defensively. But the other one stomped towards him and punched him in the stomach with his fist, knocking the air out of Sergey's lungs. He fell to his knees and coughed.

"Sergey!" shouted Stella. "I don't think he wants to negotiate, or do you want to try again?" The man in question gasped and slowly sat up.

"Good punch, Alexander," he heard the man on the right say from behind.

"I think... this... is a misunderstanding... I really just want to eat and work for it..." Sergey gasped. Alexander was surprised that his opponent had gotten over the hook relatively easily. The foreman was one of the strongest men in the mine, and no one dared to stand up to him. This dirty homeless man was undermining his authority by disobeying his orders. He could not let that happen under any circumstances. He lashed out again, punching Sergey in the face with his fist. The force of the blow knocked the former hunter, who was still bent over from the hook in his stomach, to the ground. He groaned in pain, blood streaming from his nose.

"Get out of here, now!" Alexander shouted again.

"Sergey, it doesn't work like that," Stella said. "Sergey, can you hear me?" But he just groaned and remained curled up on the floor. Stella thought about it. "I've come to the conclusion that the men there don't want to negotiate. You have to defend yourself, Sergey, you have to earn respect. I think that's normal here."

"And how?" he murmured so quietly that the men couldn't hear him.

"This is going to be exhausting for me, I can't keep this up for long. Hurry up Sergey, be quick..." the figure explained. Suddenly he felt something inside him, an indefinable force rising from his solar plexus. His breathing calmed. The force flowed from the center of his body into his arms and legs, into his head. He stood up again. Only the skin on his left shoulder burned as if boiling water had been poured over it. Unable to bear the fabric of his torn shirt, he pulled it from his body and tossed it behind him. The markings on his shoulder, tattooed there as a child by the strange spirits of the forest, shimmered a bright blue in the twilight, just as his eyes now began to glow in the same color. Alexander had to step back. Sergey now looked downright frightening in the twilight, his long black hair hanging in his face. Alexander shook his head. He could not retreat now, no matter who the stranger was who challenged his authority.

"All right, you've had your chance," he growled, preparing to strike again.

"Fight back, Sergey, fight back!" shouted Stella. Sergey saw Alexander's left fist fly towards him. He caught it with his right and twisted Alexander's arm downward, forcing his upper body to bend inexorably downward. Sergey grabbed his attacker's head, pushed it down even further, and kept hitting him with his knee right in the face, which was getting wet with his blood. Then he let go of the head and gave Alexander a powerful uppercut that brought him back into a straight stance. The foreman, his face covered in blood, didn't know what had hit him and staggered backwards as he saw Sergey flying towards him. Another blow hit him right in the face, on his already broken jaw. Alexander fell muffled to the ground, let out a gurgling scream, but was immediately grabbed by two hands. Sergey grabbed him by his belt and neck, lifted him off the ground as if he had no weight, and threw him over five meters against the wall of a nearby construction trailer, which shook from the impact. Alexander crashed into it, bounced off, and fell back to the ground, lying motionless. Realizing that his strength was failing him, Sergey looked around. The man on Alexander's right had obviously fled. Meanwhile, Dimitri was crouched beside the campfire, holding his arms above his head and whimpering.

"Don't hurt me, please, don't hurt me!" he repeated fearfully, trembling. Sergey came closer and looked at him with his bright eyes.

"Why should I hurt you? I just want food and work. That's all I ever wanted. How many times do I have to tell you?" replied Sergey. Dimitri looked up at him, horror written all over his face.

"You are... a forest devil," he stammered.

"A what?" asked Sergey. His eyes and the tattoo on his shoulder slowly lost their glow.

"You are a forest devil, for sure. The old people in our village have told stories about you. Of creatures with pale skin and shimmering eyes that live in the forest. Of marks like the one on your shoulder that no one can read. We always thought they were fairy tales, myths. Stories to scare us children. We laughed at them and didn't believe them. Don't kill me!" Dimitri said with a trembling voice.

"The man must be imagining things. I don't know about that tattoo on your shoulder, but you're a normal person, or at least you were when we bonded," Stella said. "But at least they seem to respect you now, and the fight was really exciting!" the figure added, doing another enthusiastic pirouette. Sergey sighed.

"Food, now!" he ordered Dimitri. Dimitri looked at him with wide eyes, nodded frantically, got up and ran to one of the construction trailers to follow the order.

"Amazing, he does exactly as you say!" Stella rejoiced. "It worked!"

"It's... a start..." Sergey replied. He still had no idea where it would all lead. But the prospect of a proper meal made him happy. If he stayed here for a while, he would hopefully regain his strength. And maybe these men would have soap and fresh clothes for him. He would pay for everything with his own hands, he didn't want to owe anything. Then he looked over at the still motionless Alexander and wondered if he would get up again.