It was early morning. Lieutenant Sigi Protz of the Black-Wolves Mercenary Company sat on a log, while looking over the camp of survivors that he and his handful of men had escaped with when those damned pirates attacked the airship that the Black-Wolves had been guarding. Even without dwelling on the lives lost, Sigi couldn’t help feeling a little exhausted and disheartened as he thought about everything that had happened at length.

First off, their failure to protect the airship was almost surely going to be a black mark against the company. The only saving grace was that they’d been able to do just as much damage to the pirate’s ship as the pirates had done to their ship. Secondly, it had been three months since their crash landing, and they’d yet to see any sign of a rescue coming.

Trying to find their way back to civilization wasn’t an option because they had no clue of where they were. If one climbed one of the tallest trees, and managed to avoid the carnivorous trees and the giant insects that were pretending to be trees, all one would see was a sea of green. A sea of trees that extended as far as the eye could see.

Their compasses were useless due to the absurdly high levels of spiritual energy in this jungle, and no one had been in any state to pay attention to where they were falling to, as the escape pod was hurtling down from the ship. Which made the maps that were packed in the pods useless as well.

All that their group could do was let the escape pod's emergency beacon signal for help, while occasionally feeding spiritual-energy to the pod’s radio so they could broadcast an SOS. There were no other options, because the Bellgrave Jungle was one of the shattered world’s famously massive wildlands. Large enough that if they happened to set off in the wrong direction, even if they miraculously avoided running into danger, they might still be walking until they’d died of old age, before they ever set sights on civilization again.

Speaking of danger, Sigi supposed that the situation wasn’t “all” bad. For whatever reason, their camp had received hardly any beast attacks. Alina, the most seasoned and well-traveled, of their group supposed that this had something to do with the large rocks they’d found surrounding their camp one morning. Rocks covered in runes and sigils that were clearly meant to serve as protective-wards, according to their group’s one mage. One of Sigi’s brothers-in-arms, from the Black-Wolves.

Sigi heard some chatter. He turned around in his seat and saw that the rest of the camp was already starting to stir, and that a number of his fellow survivors had already started a campfire and gathered at their camp’s earthen pot. The creation of their camp’s one mage. Sigi was glad to see the fire started and that cooking was already underway. He’d been getting a bit hungry.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Taking another look, Sigi spotted Alina, the camp’s unofficial leader, talking to a set of familiar faces around that pot. It was the kids. Jack and Jill. Sigi saw one of his men walking over. A swordswoman with a saber for a core-treasure. He nodded. She nodded, and once she took Sigi’s place at the log. Sigi got up and headed over to the campfire where Alina and the kids were.

“Hey,” said Sigi. As he approached the small group that was getting breakfast ready.

The camp cooks gave Sigi a nod, and a wave, before going back to their discussion over what to make with the fish, wild potatoes, and miscellaneous greens that lay in the, surprisingly sturdy, leaf-baskets at their feet. Sigi guessed the food was another of the little gifts brought over by the two youths.

“Morning, Sigi,” said Alina. Looking up and smiling at Sigi in her cold but personable way.

“Good morning, Mr. Sigi,” said Jack. The more chatty of the two children.

Sigi nodded in return as he continued to make his way over to the group. He remembered resisting that assignation for quite a while. Wanting to maintain a certain distance and formality. However, the girl wore him down with persistence and charm, and now he kind of wished she’d drop the “Mister” because he felt it made him sound older than he was, or like some household pet.

“Morning, sir,” said the girl’s dark, quiet, shadow. Jill. The one Sigi tended to turn to whenever the girl did something that confused, or bewildered, Sigi. The one who bizarrely enough reminded Sigi of his father, of all people. A taciturn man, whose presence had always given a younger Sigi a feeling of steadiness and reliability.

Sigi could remember the first time the two youths disappeared on their own, when they’d all just crash-landed. Sigi and Alina almost started a search for the two but that would have jeopardized the rest of the survivors. There was also a serious concern that there was something in the woods that had picked off the weakest and youngest first, and might come back to take someone else from amongst their number.

Then the two children appeared again, shortly after their group had set up a camp, and Alina, Sigi, and a few other survivors who’d decided to care for whatever reason were a bit peeved by the children’s disappearing act. Wanting Jack and Jill to stay with the group where it was...well, not safe, but at least, much safer than wandering in the jungle on their own would be.

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that neither youth had any intention of following that plan. In hindsight, it kind of made sense, Sigi still had no clear idea of what Jack and Jill had been running from. Yet, he’d seen enough in his time in the military and in the Black-Wolves, to roughly guess at why they might feel a reasonable wariness at laying their heads down amongst a bunch of strangers. Even if that potentially meant putting themselves at an increased level of risk.

Fortunately, the two children seemed to be uncommonly adept at surviving in these woods. Strangely enough, the two juniors even seemed to be more adept at living in these conditions than the rest of them did. It wasn’t at all an overstatement to say their survivor camp owed its current level of comfort to the advice, and little gifts, that the two children would give during their visits to the camp.