I had grossly overestimated for how long I’d slept. It took hours before dawn painted the eastern sky in a soft pink. I used that time to scurry up breakfast in the underbrush. One advantage of leaving the wet swamps downhill was that - apparently - I was one of the biggest predators around. So I didn’t have to be as careful to hide all the time. Maybe I’ve also grown a little, but I doubted it was by that much. I still stayed away from the river though. Even if I missed out on the crayfish. I’d probably look for some if I came across a creek shallow enough for me to wade through. This high up though, there were only small rivulets and puddles. And I didn’t find any crustaceans anywhere for days.

Once I was full, I just lay down, waited and watched the stars. They looked completely foreign to me. The night sky seemed also a lot brighter than in previous me’s life. I wasn’t sure if this was just because of light pollution or something else though. The moon also seemed a lot bigger. Or just closer? I never noticed that before since there always were clouds or treetops in the way. That and maybe I never really looked up before. It was a breathtaking sight nonetheless. I was dozing off a bit at first light and napped until sunrise.

The light to the west was now replaced by thick smoke rising up into the sky and rolling down the mountainside. It looked nearly white in the early morning sun, with only a slight yellowish tint. I was reasonably sure that this was the same ‘fog’, I’ve seen all the way back on top of that damn tree. I must have travelled a bit too far southwards.

Could have been the detour I took east, before deciding to cross the river. Absently I brushed against the slowly regrowing stump, that was my left hind leg, with the tip of my tail.

If I estimated the distance correctly from here, I still had four or five days to go, before arriving at the fuming mountain. Maybe three, if I could follow the light after dark.

But of course, I couldn’t. The storm clouds returned as the day progressed and opened up in another violent shower a bit before dusk. Well, at least I didn’t have to dip into a fish infested stream to stay moist and hydrated. Small blessings? Nothing too exciting happened during the next three days either. I discovered a few more types of conifers and ate some new bugs I hadn’t seen before, but that was it. I still hoped I'd at least have four fully functional legs again before I undertook a similar hike in the future. This constant hopping was simply annoying by now.

When I finally reached the foot of my target mountain, I first noticed the incredibly dark, almost black earth. I didn’t see it before, because of all the lush vegetation that grew on it. Next, I spotted charred and burned tree trunks half-buried in soil and the thick undergrowth. Those were good signs, right?

Now I just had to climb up the side of this obviously active volcano and then befriend some spirits of fire. Childsplay, really.

To the best of my knowledge, I hadn’t met even one spirit of water or earth during the two moons or so I trekked through the swamp to get here. But if there were none up there, I had absolutely no clue where else to look. Searching for another volcano? Finding and befriending some other spirits first and asking them for directions? Well, I could try that, if plan A turned out to be a bust and I didn’t find any here.

I noticed the smell long before I reached the top. It was horrible. Like someone had very displeasing bowel movements or worse, had allowed some perfectly good eggs to go bad before eating them. It just reeked of rot. The higher up I got, the worse the stench became. I somewhat doubted that it would be good for my health if I stayed here for an extended period of time.

Nevertheless, when I reached the top it was already getting dark again. I stood at the edge of a huge caldera. Red-brown moss-like plants stretched throughout it like a furry carpet. Black patches indicated, where they got burned away recently. They were the thickest around the few places where the reeking smoke billowed out of the earth through natural vents.

Then, of course, there were the three lava lakes. I gulped at the sight, becoming aware of how parched I really was. I had to fight the urge to leave this smouldering basin behind as fast as I could. I felt like I was never ever supposed to be in a place like this. And I didn’t even see anything that looked even remotely like a spirit.

I really didn’t want to leave without making sure after coming all this way though. I decided to at least wait until morning. I absolutely did not want to go down into that crater though. So I made my way around it, looking for some kind of shelter for the night and to finally get upwind of this unbearable stench.

Once it got fully dark, I had settled down in a hollow crack in the sheer rock. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it had a nice open view over the whole caldera. That and it was far away from the nearest vent of stinking fumes. It was possible that this played a small part in choosing this spot over a larger cave, I found a few hours earlier. Maybe.

Everything was pretty quiet until I suddenly observed strange movements from the biggest of the lava pools. At first, I thought it was on the verge of erupting and was about to make a run for it. But then a fluctuating blob of molten rock just plopped out of the molten lake and moved around on the mossy shore like some kind of animated slime in a video game. I couldn’t quite believe what I was watching. It moved in the direction of the other two lava pools, leaving a trail of burnt vegetation behind.

When it reached the neighbouring pool, the ground next to it bulged upwards seemingly on its own, until a considerably large rock separated from it, flew in a steep arc over the middle of the lava pond and plunged right in. The reaction was immediate. A second blob shot out of the pool and threw fire at the first one. Which threw another rock and then shot right back a stream of fire of its own. The other blob dodged, far more agile than I’d expected it could, and sent shrapnel of tiny red-hot glowing pebbles. That went back and forth for a while and ended with them both rolling around in the first carmine, then ash grey moss as if… amused? It was a bizarre sight.

In the meantime, a third blob had emerged from the last pool and started to draw black shapes by singing the fuzzy carpet.

Were these the proto-spirits Memory was talking about? If they were not, I had absolutely no idea what else they could have been. They were the most magical thing I’ve seen in my existence. Deeply fascinated I just settled down again and watched them… playing around?

A short while later it began to rain again. I was used to it by now, so I didn’t give it any mind at first, besides being able to finally quench my thirst. But the volcanic spirits didn’t like it one bit. They started to form elaborate stone formations around their respective pools that reminded me suspiciously of an expressionist interpretation of castle walls. Admittedly, the architect would have had to be near blackout drunk when designing them and the builders must have joined the resulting party before finishing their job. But still, there was an undeniable resemblance. It was as if the spirits were expecting a siege of some kind.

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The wind picked up. A lot. And the rain had suddenly quite a bit of hail mixed in. I hadn’t seen any ice since I was born. It was way too warm for that in my swampy forest and the memories didn’t really carry over how it exactly felt. Sure, I remembered that previous me felt cold, surprisingly often to be honest, but it was something quite different, to experience it myself. Especially in tandem with the incredible heat. After getting hit a few times and shuddering when the hailstones ran down over my body, I retreated as far back into my shelter, as the cramped hole I appropriated for that task, would allow. Then lightning struck the first fortification.

I always wondered why I’ve never seen any spirits up until this point. Now I wasn’t so sure if maybe indeed I had and just did not recognize them as such? From above, little miniature whirlwinds descended into the caldera. They were greeted by jets of molten rock from the makeshift fortresses.

If those vortices of air were spirits, how would I have ever noticed, if I walked atop an earth spirit or swam by a water spirit? They looked just like normal whirlwinds, the only difference being that they seemed to have a will of their own and were now throwing water, ice and lightning into the crater. The noise was deafening. Not just the thunder, the wind was roaring with odd jabbing interruptions that made it sound not unlike mad cackling. All the while the lava lakes were bubbling and erupting with return fire, only for the projectiles to be sent off course by sudden gusts of air.

I couldn’t assess if they were having a serious fight, the time of their lives or both at once. If the storm was bullying the volcano or if both were just playing with each other. It didn’t matter much to me. A miniature meteorite impacted not four of my body lengths away from my hidey-hole. Either way, I was terrified out of my mind. Those were forces of nature. All I could do was duck my head in and hope to stay unnoticed.

They clashed for hours, neither side injuring the other to any noticeable degree. It was a spectacle throughout. If I hadn’t been afraid to get hit on accident, I'd have hightailed it out of there right when it started. I didn’t though and later on the winds became so violent and capricious that I’d probably be thrown right off the mountain if I had tried to climb down under these conditions. When the storm spirits finally moved on, it was probably way past midnight. I was tired enough that I just fell into an exhausted sleep right where I was.

In my dreams, a volcano was playing pong with a storm. With me as the ball, alternating between burning alive and freezing while being shredded. Of course, I had nightmares again. Did anyone expect anything else?

When I awoke in the morning, the sky was clear and the caldera lay in silence. The moss-like plants were busy retaking the burnt patches and already had made an astonishing amount of progress, considering the damage done throughout the night. I doubted I'd find any edible food up here though.

The lava pools were quiet, their inhabitants asleep again. Probably. Or they did whatever else they were doing when they stayed inside. Reading a good book or watching a movie. Wouldn’t that be nice? I sighed. Previous me liked doing that a lot.

How did I want to approach them? Did I want to approach them? Not really, but Memory wanted me to and if I didn’t make her happy, I fully expected her to just throw me down here again for my next life. With the same stupid quest. It’s not like she would run out of time for the next few million years. Evolution isn’t a ‘do it right now or miss your chance forever’ kind of thing. At least not until your species was about to go extinct.

I had absolutely nothing against being a scalamander. I was smart and pretty and sturdy and could regrow entire limbs and all of that was totally neat. It was just so gods damned lonely. The only one I could actually talk to was myself. I didn’t think that was particularly beneficial for my mental health. I definitely could not deal with that for the next few hundred or so lifetimes. So my current plan was to ask Her, as a reward for fulfilling her ‘little task’, to wait for a while before shoving me into my next life. At least until someone or something developed any means of proper communication.

Be that as it may, I still had to decide how to handle this. My vocal range consisted entirely of very monotone croaking. I somehow doubted that would be very useful. At least for a first contact. Wiggling around and gesturing could help. Maybe. Possibly. Yeah, probably not.

How did they communicate amongst themselves? They were throwing fire and brimstone at one another and… burnt geometric shapes into the moss carpet. That could be it. If I tried drawing something they might not understand what I wanted to say, but they at least should be able to deduce that I wanted to say something.

Well, it wasn’t completely impossible that they would.

So, begrudgingly, I hobbled down the side of the crater until I stood in front of the largest of the molten pools. It was unbearably hot and the stench was nauseating.

I still took my time to root up the red-brown moss in shapes that hopefully resembled three blobs and one three and a half legged salamander. It didn’t look all that great but it should still be recognizable, considering I planned to stand right next to it for comparison.

Warily I eyed the bubbling lava. There were no other movements or signs of activity. If I put it off for much longer, I’d probably be cooked alive before I even met them. With timid movements, I picked up a decently sized rock and threw it towards the centre of the pool.

It landed with a splash and then slowly began to sink. I had to jump back to avoid being hit by tiny searing splatters.

Nothing else happened for a few moments.

I gulped audibly.

Then the lava pool erupted like I’ve seen it do the night before and the volcanic spirit emerged, jumping right onto the shore.

I just stood there, next to my crude drawings, and didn’t know how to react. It mustered me intensely. At least I thought that was what it did. It moved a bit closer and the heat became painful. It was getting difficult to continue breathing. Every inhaling burned my lungs. How on earth was I supposed to spend any length of time with something so deadly hot?

I retreated a few steps, pointing hastily at the ground with my right index claw where my improvised message was slowly catching fire and burning away.

The spirit didn’t show any sign that it understood the gesture. Instead, it began to reshape a part of itself into… a rough imitation of my head? It was still far better than my drawings, though. Then it formed another copy of my extended right front leg. It looked as if it tried to mirror my shape. I’d have been very happy about that if I wasn’t feeling like I was roasting in an oven right now.

I let out a croak of suppressed pain. That noise seemed to startle the half scalamander, half blob and all molten rock. Because its immediate response, as if on reflex, was shooting a stream of fire in the general direction of its origin. Right at me.

It didn’t miss completely.

I cried out in agony and limped away from the spirit as fast as I still could. I had to escape! If I stayed any longer, that would be the end of me. I didn’t want to die yet. I couldn’t die yet. I wasn’t even a year old, for fucks sake!

How was I ever supposed to ‘procreate’ with something like that? Was Memory insane? Sure! Go fuck the living volcano! It’s such a small task. What could possibly go wrong with that?

I somehow clawed my way up to the edge of the caldera and risked a glance behind me. The spirit was still standing where It had when it doused me in flames. It seemed to be… contemplative? Confused? Bored? I had absolutely no freaking clue.

I just legged it.

Out of there, down the mountain.

At least I hoped I would make it that far. I must have had a lot of major burns. I couldn’t quite feel the whole right side of my body very well. I dreaded to check how bad it truly was.

So I continued my desperate hobbled run towards the treeline and prayed to Memory, who was probably watching, that I reached somewhere safe and preferably wet before the shock receded and the rest of the pain came crashing in.

Like there was any safe place in this mad world, to begin with.