Pyrite woke to the smell of thimbleberry jam.

Her stomach growled as she sat up. When was the last time she had eaten? Where was she?

“Hey!” Turquoise ran up to greet her, helmet visor up. “Pyrite! You’re awake! Come on, have some toast.”

“Toast?” Pyrite groaned. She'd never heard of such a thing.

Turquoise grinned. “It’s a Surface thing. You have to try it!”

She tugged Pyrite to her feet and gave her a few minutes to adjust.

“Woah.” Pyrite steadied herself against the nearest tree and gazed around at her surroundings.

She was in the middle of a clearing. It was small, just big enough to fit a campfire and a few sitting logs. Around the clearing were tents, made of tarp and covered with mud, sticks, and leaves. Bows and arrows were propped against a few trees, and a clothesline ran the length between two of the trees.

Pyrite gazed at the campfire, which was currently aflame. Three figures sat it, chatting and laughing with one another. Turquoise tugged Pyrite in that direction.

“She's awake!” Turquoise cried as she led Pyrite to one of the logs.

“Here, have some toast,” one of the figures—a male—said, handed her a slice of something warm, crunchy, and good smelling. It was brown and gold, with thimbleberry jam spread across the top.

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Pyrite accepted it and took a bite, surprised by the flavor. It was indescribable, like she didn’t posses the words or terms to say what it tasted like.

“How is this made?” she found herself asking.

Everyone laughed. The person who had offered her the “toast” grinned at her, then said, “We take wheat and other grains, grind them into a powder called flour, and use water, salt, and something called yeast to make dough, which we cook and make bread with. Then we slice up the bread and cook the slices, making toast.”

Pyrite blinked. “There’s a powder caller flower? What are grains? Dough? Yeast?”

The others were still giggling as the male explained to Pyrite what those terms were.

“Wow.” Pyrite stared at her toast. “It tastes amazing.”

One of the females laughed. Pyrite looked at her closely, and recognized her as one of the girls who had peered at her on the forest floor. She had black hair, dark tinted skin, and warm, brown eyes that shone in the firelight. “We expected you to ask questions like ‘where am I’ ‘who are you’ or ‘where is everyone’, not on how to make toast.” She laughed again.

“I do still wonder those things,” Pyrite admitted. “Can you answer them?”

“Your friends are fine,” the male said. “We just used sleeping darts on them, not poison that kills. We gave the dark-haired girl and your dragons back to the forest along with directions to the nearest river.”

Pyrite was relieved, then confused. “Why did you keep me and Turquoise?”

The others exchanged looks.

“We’ll let our leader answer that question for you,” the female said. Pyrite noticed that the other female, a brown-haired girl with royal blue eyes, stayed silent.

“Your leader?” Pyrite asked. She got her answer before the others could say anything, though.

“That would be me.” Another male stepped into the firelight.

He had dark hair, not quite black and not quite brown, and steaked with gray. His sad, silver-green eyes glinted in the firelight, a bow and arrow slung over his back. A deer hung draped over his shoulder, dripping blood.

“Hello, Pyrite,” he said in a deep, gentle voice.

Pyrite gazed, for the first time in eleven years, upon the face of her father, Jasper.