Grenade in hand, she thrust her left arm upward to the sky, a vindictive smile as three spear-bearing Erlings jabbed their spears into her. A final explosion and a brief searing pain passing from hand to body to head was the last thing she remembered.

Until she snorted a nose-full of water.

2. Villa Guha - ??, Year 216

The sharp pain woke Sally up faster than the ice-cold temperature of the water itself did. She tried pushing herself up to hands and knees in order to catch some air, but barely got an inch before losing her balance and falling on her left side. Instead, she turned it into a clumsy roll and situated herself on her back. Thankfully, the water was shallow enough that this was enough for her head to be above the water.

After taking some greedy gulps of air, coughing all the while, she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The overly bright sun seared straight through her eyes and into her head, activating the pounding headache that had been lurking unnoticed.

Her whole body was both aching like a torn muscle and completely numb, her lungs were burning like she’d inhaled smoke and her head was throbbing like it was ready to leak out of her ears. She felt like she was dying, which she might well be, and her body began to quickly give way to a deep lethargy. Unable to hold them open, she closed her eyes and instead focused on not falling asleep.

For a couple of seconds – or minutes, or hours even for all she cared – Sally remained on her back, her breathing calming and deepening with each breath. Death seemed not yet ready to claim her, and the lure of the deep sleep lessened by every moment that passed. Both the ache and numbness subsided and she felt the cold water glide past her body, hearing it flow by her ear.

With her focus returning, she attempted to figure out what was going on.

Replaying the memory of their doomed hunt didn’t help. The last thing she remembered – the grenade – should’ve killed her one way or another, either through sheer force or by shrapnel. Even if that hadn’t done her in, she blacked out after being stabbed any number of times by the Erlings. She should have bled out before even the idea of rescue could have materialized, let alone arrived.

And she clearly hadn’t been rescued, or she wouldn’t be lying in a river – which made even less sense. How would she end up in a river? The arroyo had been dry and the closest ever-flowing river was at least two miles away. Furthermore, these were poisonous and who would bother dragging a still-living body that far just in order to get rid of them?

Every thought brought only more questions and no answers.

So, better stop thinking and start planning. The Guha Villa was nearest, roughly seven miles from the gully – if that was indeed where she was. If any of the others survived that was where they would go, and at the very least she should inform the Villa about what happened while trying to figure things out.

Plan now set, she should really try and get out of the river. Despite the water’s cold temperature, she felt rather comfortable, but she shouldn’t trust her body right now. Her headache was all but gone, her breathing was steadier and the lethargy was replaced with energy, but her memory said this should not be. So, better to get out while she still could.

She sat up, experienced a brief bout of vertigo before wiping the water from her face with her left-

She didn’t have a left arm.

Sally stilled in confusion before turning to look at her left shoulder. There was nothing there, not even a mangled stump as there should’ve been after having a grenade explode in her hand. It was as if someone had cleanly detached the arm from its socket, shoulder blade and collar bone unharmed.

Well, at least it is healed, somehow, she thought.

For a moment, she thought about what it meant to lose her left arm. Rapid fire images shot through her mind about things she couldn’t do anymore, things that would be substantially more difficult, before deciding to ignore all of it. She didn’t have time for this. She’d see things as they come.

Sally wiped the water off of her face with her right arm and stood up. A quick check revealed that her clothes were in tatters. Her jacket was practically gone, its remains barely clinging to her right shoulder and extending over only half her ribs, leaving her arms bare. Her shirt was better, covering her whole body and right arm, though it was riddled with holes from Erling spears and grenade shrapnel. Her belt was still attached, thankfully, and though her gun holster was regrettably empty, her knife was still there. Her pants and shoes were best off of the bunch, presumably because the body of the skinner-wolf protected it.

Another thing that was curiously missing: the bodies. She did a quick look around and found that, indeed, she was still in the same ravine as yesterday – favorite rock and all – but no sign of the battle remained. No bodies, no pits from the grenades or red patches of blood. Nothing remained, as if washed away with the arrival of the miracle water.

Her unease kept growing.

Thankfully, aside from the arm, the rest of her body looked and felt fine. There were no wounds, nor cuts, and not even blood stained her anymore. She felt remarkably good all things considered.

“Miracle water indeed,” her voice sounded hoarse and was barely above a whisper. Then why couldn’t it heal her arm? She ignored the bitter thought. Gift horses and all that.

She bent and spooned some water into her mouth. It was fresh and cold, rejuvenating to her parched throat. Tastes like spring, she thought, not liking the implication. She kept drinking.

Before long, she was sated and looked southward.

Seven miles, she thought, three hours, give or take. She looked toward the sun, high in the sky though not directly above. Should arrive before dusk.

Without any baggage to worry about, she set off.

In three hours, she would know more.

X

Sally crested another hill, one of dozens along the way, though this one would be the last for now. The sun hung lower than it had before, though higher than she expected. The orange glow and long shadows of a setting sun were yet to come. Despite the rough terrain, her pace had apparently been great despite her dark mood.

During the journey, questions had kept plaguing her, and while she remained firm in her refusal to let them consume her, it had certainly worn her down. She felt like she walked on the thinnest of ropes, held together by only a few threads that were rapidly fraying. If the questions kept haunting her, she’d collapse sooner rather than later.

Though the answers might be worse, she thought.

But the answers would come, and soon at that.

In front of her, within shooting distance was the Villa Guha. Its cube-like grey stone structure should be a sight for sore eyes to all living in the Villas, and its tower jutting from the top a welcoming beacon. It, along with the extensive works underground, had housed the Guha family for generations, ever since the Days of the Long Sun. All thirteen Villas had this same structure, the same layout, making it easy for everyone to feel at home even in whilst a guest with different families.

No such feeling came to Sally, unfortunately. Because – of course – something was wrong.

The tower was more of a nub and she could see a quarter of the structure had completely collapsed in on itself.

Furthermore, surrounding the Villa itself were a large number of tents which, in turn, were further surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Two more small wooden towers served as an entrance to the newly constructed base.

Within its confines were men in dressed in appropriately brown-colored army fatigues. They were marching, training, maintaining arms and armor, cleaning or shoveling dirt, or watching others perform these things. It was a bustle of activity normally unseen outside the Villa itself.

Further out from the base, farmers in clothing very different from the usual Villayet wear were tending fields that weren’t theirs, herding sheep and goats that might be theirs and driving cattle that were definitively theirs, though equally unwelcome.

These were Grandies, people from the Grand Central Union, the large state west of the Circuits.

Relations with them were usually good, at least relative to other communities outside the Circuits. Their caravans, entering from Gadeon and travelling the Gold Circuit before reaching the Villas, brought them much needed supplies in greater abundance than the Anteer cities around Lake Prior to the south and east. And usually at a lower cost, too, for the western Villas at least.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

But relations were certainly not good enough for an army to host itself in front of a Villa, let alone allow them to use precious farm- and grazeland so freely. That the Villa was ruined implied the worst.

She felt anger, sadness and confusion at the sight. She’d been here recently, it couldn’t have changed this quickly.

Another layer of dread was added to the pile, her tightrope a degree narrower.

Sally marched up toward the entrance. The guards at the entrance and up the towers spotted her with ease, but made no moves yet. They become more wary as she approached, perhaps suspicious because of her shabby outfit, and one of the ones up in the tower drew a bead on her with his modern-looking automatic rifle.

“Halt,” one of the two guards, a woman, at the entrance commanded Sally. The other flicked the safety off of his rifle, though did not raise it. “This is military property. State your name and purpose for visiting.”

“And who are you to ask that?” she replied, unwilling to keep the indignation out of her voice. “Where are the Guhas?”

The two guards shared a brief look, the man raising an eyebrow.

“Once again, state your name and reason for visiting Station Guha.” The woman said, a bit harsher though also somewhat confused, putting an emphasis on the final two words. The guard in the second tower also began aiming at her.

Sally doubted the name Guha would remain if they had conquered the Villa. They would probably name it Fort Victory, or something, she thought, though the humor fell flat even to her. Still, she decided to remain diplomatic.

“Sarah Olivia Palters, junior Warden of the Villa Palter,” she stated.

“Me, my mentor Niall, and Tarak and Marcella Guha – you know, this Villa’s Wardens” she couldn’t help but add acidly “were performing an investigation into a missing Guha farmer. Now, shit’s gone to shit and I would like to at least inform their family of their loss.”

Anger was getting the best of her. So much for diplomacy, she thought. I should be better than this. But her control was shot.

“Now, what is your reason for barring my entry?!” She all but spat at them.

There was a long moment of silence, neither side really knowing how to continue.

Meanwhile, they’d begun attracting attention. Men and women had left their duties and were watching her from behind the barbwire fence, murmuring and pointing at her.

She felt herself begin to shake and flush red from the anger, the anxiety, the shame at the loss of control, the weight of the stares and the ever-mounting feeling of terror. Thankfully, before she could either curl into a ball or begin yelling again, a voice came from the back.

“Now, what is going on over here,” a man, small in stature but apparently large in rank, said as he moved through the crowd. His voice was smooth and calm, but authoritative all the same. Sophisticated, maybe. It was at least very unlike the regular tones of Circuit dwellers.

He looked at the crowd, before focusing briefly focusing on Sally, then shifting to the gate guard. “And who is she?”

“A ‘Sarah Olivia Palters’, sir. Supposedly the junior Warden of Villa Palters,” the female guard replied, skepticism clear in her voice.

Sally scoffed in indignation, ready to tear into them again.

“Hmm,” the officer scratched his chin, “badge number?”

The comment caught Sally off-guard. Ironically, the non-sequitur snapped her out of her spiraling, and calmed down. Still confused, but calm

“What?” She replied.

“Your badge number, your identification as a Warden,” the man answered.

“We don’t have those. We are known to the community,” she stated in a somewhat bewildered tone. She had no idea where he was going with this.

The man gave her a nod and turned back to the female guard.

“Grab Ensign Zjevik-Ong, would you.” The woman gave him a salute, before marching off.

Sally blinked at the name.

The Zjevik-Ong were the third family occupying the western part of Villa territory. It was not exactly rare for a member of the Villas to leave and do their own thing – she considered doing much the same when she was younger – and not strange for some to end up joining the army of the Grandies.

She doubted that even after they left, a member of the Villas would join in warring against their former community, nor be stationed in their ruins there after a hostile takeover.

They waited in silence, not exactly tense but neither engaging to talk, before the female guard returned with a man in tow.

“Yes, Major?” The man said with a salute.

“Ensign, do you recognize this woman? Or the name Sarah Palters?”

Sally doubted he would. While the man wasn’t old, he wasn’t young either, early thirties she guessed despite his somewhat pretty-boy look. She’s only been a junior Warden for five years and doubted he had been with there when she was announced, let alone later during the times when she visited their Villa in the course of her duties.

Thus, it came a surprise that the man did, in fact, recognize her. By name at least.

“Yessir, I’ve heard the name. Came up during the defense in talks with the other Wardens. She and the other Guha and Palters Wardens had supposedly disappeared sometime before the Erlings descended. To investigate disappearance of a farmer and some herd.”

Disappeared sometime before, she noted. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“That’s consistent with what she told me, sir”, the female guard jumped in. The guard’s gaze then shifted to Sally, a look of pity in her eyes. “More or less,” she finished quietly.

Sally liked that even less.

“Very well. Warden Palters, if you’d please follow me to the command tent. Ensign, tag along.” He turned to face the crowd. “The rest of you, return to your duties,” he commanded with a raised voice before walking away. The crowd complied with a mumbled chorus of yessirs.

Sally began to follow, the ensign walking beside her.

“It’s good to hear someone survived, you know?” The man began with a smile. “We feared that-”

“Wait until we’re in the tent, Makilas,” the major interrupted.

The ensign looked oddly sheepish, tugging at his curly hair before giving her an apologetic look.

The signs were painting a very bad picture indeed.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the center of the camp, an unlit firepit surrounded by seven large tents, three to either side and one in front of them. The command center, no doubt.

They entered the one in the center, the ensign holding the entrance flap open for her. Inside was a small office complete with chair and desk front and center, with a number of racks with shelves occupied by miscellaneous equipment to her left and a duo filing cabinets to her right.

“Please, have a seat,” the major said, gesturing toward the chair in front of the desk while he went to the filing cabinets. The ensign went to stand in front of the equipment racks instead of seating himself beside her.

Sally didn’t budge.

“Why all this… secrecy?” She asked, frustrated and suspicious.

“Not secrecy, Sarah,” the ensign replied, “Empathy.”

She looked at them and was, again, met with a pitying gaze. It seems everyone knows but me, the bitter thought rang.

“Indeed, Warden, the privacy is not for us.” The major finished fishing in the cabinets and pulled out a file from the bottom drawer before moving toward the chair behind the desk. They were apparently well-organized.

She hesitated for moment before moving the chair in front of her.

“It’s Sally, by the way,” she said. “Not Sarah.” She received a nod from both men as she sat down on the chair.

“You may refer to me as Charles, and that is Makilas, as you probably heard earlier. Or Major Frelik and Ensign Zjevik-Ong, if you prefer the formalities.” She wasn’t in the mood for anything.

The major opened the file and asked: “It states here that you and your group went on an expedition, starting on January six and were last seen on the ninth, correct?” She nodded, though found the word ‘expedition’ a bit too grand. “And is that Friday the last day you remembered?” She nodded again, bracing for the news.

“Today is July seventeen.”

July seventeen, the word echoed in her mind.

She’d been gone for over six months.

Her first instinct was to deny it. She knew by now that she’d been gone for longer than a day, but six months? That was beyond insane, it was simply impossible. If it were true, she would have been beyond deader than dead. Even her bones would have been eaten by some beast and that beast would have likely been eaten in turn by that time. She wouldn’t be here, couldn’t be here if six months had passed.

But even it was just a day, let alone a whole week – the maximum she could imagine being realistic – she should not be alive, and the longer timeline fit her other observations better. The warmth, the spring– or rather, summer meltwater in the arroyo, the brightness of the sun, its position relative to the time of day. The fact that the Grandies had finished setting up shop in the Guha’s home and had filled up at least one whole filing cabinet already…

Her vision began to darken at the edges and she felt a mug being pushed into her hand. She took a sip of the water. It steadied her somewhat.

“Sally,” Charles said. She didn’t look up at him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Thankful for the distraction, she began telling them of their days searching, their plans for baiting their prey and the discovery of the skinner-wolves. She explained the revised plan and how their ambush, in turn, counter-ambushed by the Erlings. She told them of her final act – the one she’d presumably lost an arm for – and her blacking out before waking up, apparently, six months later.

They’d remained quiet as she told her story, the water and retelling helping her come over the shock.

“The mysteries of the new world are boundless and unpredictable,” the major mumbled once she finished. It sounded almost religious the way he said it, but when she looked up he looked at her only with compassion.

Before a dark look took over his features.

“Unfortunately, your encounter was not the result of circumstance. Somehow, the Erlings, led by some form of shaman-figure, had managed to either tame or create packs of skinner-wolves. A couple weeks after your encounter, they went down the mountains not to raid, but to migrate.”

Photographs, the first time she’d seen such things, were picked from the file and shoved toward her side of the table. They depicted familiar bodies of skinner-wolves and Erlings side by side.

“They struck hard and fast, and with the element of surprise at their side. The Wardens had only just begun to set up defenses, but were not prepared for the scale of the incursion. By the time they figured out what was going on, the Erlings had already penetrated deep, deep toward the south, up to and including parts of the Gold and Red Circuits.”

More pictures, this time of dead horses and people along with wrecked carts. Trading caravans, most likely.

“It eventually took the combined forces of the Wardens, the city of Gadeon, a number of the Anteer cities and a detachment of our own Frontiersmen to halt their advance. Thankfully, after the Wardens managed to track down and kill their shaman, they splintered and we managed to drive them back completely. But not immediately, and not without cost.”

New photographs, depicting familiar buildings in familiar places.

“Now, being the most northwestern Villa and the first to be struck, Villa Guha was quickly overwhelmed. The Wardens attempted to halt the tide at the Villa Palters, but as they were the next to be struck they did not yet know the full scope of the problem.”

Her home, in ruins. Destroyed by a threat she’d been investigating. A threat she’d faced on the field, hoped to face, even, these Erlings. She had teased her mentor with it, spooked Tarak with it, and she had gotten her wish.

They should’ve listened to Niall when he told them to retreat, to create a better plan, to ask for reinforcements from the Zjevik-Ong Wardens, to create a fallback plan. But they hadn’t, because she spooked Tarak into bringing his homemade explosives, which convinced Marcy to go ahead. They were just skinner-wolves after all, right? A rare and dangerous threat, but manageable.

They’d lost not only the battle – something to be expected considering what she now knew – but had failed to survive, failed to deliver a warning. When she had gained the inkling she might be the last alive, instead of trying her hardest to run away, she’d doubled down in pride and lust for battle and revenge.

But the major wasn’t done yet.

“Now, we’ve searched both Villas, every corner, every closet, behind every door and under every bed from tower to basement,” Charles said. Sally raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sally. We’ve found no survivors.”

She’d failed her community, her parents, her siblings, all those baring the name Palters and beyond. And now they’re all dead.

That was the final straw.

X

“What’ll you do now?” Makilas asked. “Return to your Villa?”

It had been a few days since Sally broke down into an embarrassing blubbery, teary mess. The now-dubbed Station Guha had been a kind host, more than kind. Beyond food, water and shelter, they’d given her clothes – the legacy of the Guha, she winced at the unfair thought. There would be more to their legacy than the clothes on her back.

They’d even gone ahead and given her a pistol similar to her previous one, equally capable of firing .45, along with a good amount of spare ammo. Apparently, it was not standard for most of their firearms and was instead used for visiting Wardens needing resupply. Which was what they saw her as, she supposed, although in her heart couldn’t agree.

“No,” she replied, a bit tersely. He didn’t deserve it, he’d been nothing but kind, but he kept trying to convince her to return to that ruin. To mourn or get some sort of closure, he’d said. But she won’t, she couldn’t handle it. Not yet.

“Will you return to the Wardens? I could probably guide you to the Zjevik-Ong at least. Maybe even further if I convince Charles, make it sound like some kinda relationship-building thing with the Villas and Wardens.” He offered.

It was kind of him. It was clear he was worried to let her go alone, but that was exactly what she wished to be.

“I have a brother in the Arcanist guild in one of the Anteer cities,” she said, though she couldn’t recall which. She finished packing her stuff and slung the bag across from left hip to right shoulder. “I’ll try to find him, I suppose. Let him know that there is another Palters.”

She walked out the front gate, the same guards that greeted her three days prior giving her a solemn nod.

“Do come back sometime, alright? I’ve yet to show you all the things we’ve done around here. The defenses we built, the plans we made for the region.”

Sally turned back one final time. Makilas was looking at her with concern.

She deliberated for a second, looking skyward and scratching her throat.

“Maybe,” she replied, unsure of anything right now. The past days had been tough, and despite the kindness she was shown, this place would likely turn into a bad memory before long.

She could only hope it wouldn’t remain that way.