Season I | Episode IV | Chapter I

285 days until Affliction Day

They say goodbye to Isolniel soon after the incident with Mama Mountain Scorlion. Goodbyes aren’t Tarrick’s forte, but by the look of it, Isolniel’s enthusiasm doesn’t look like it’s been quashed by saying goodbye. She hugs them all, one by one. Then she explains what new plans await her. She wants to find another high peak to climb before going to Yeagsant, the Wide Canyons village. Maybe they’ll see each other again there! Thus, Isolniel leaves them at a crossroad, walking away with a spring in her step. Since then, they’ve been walking around the Wide Canyons. In search of another story.

Again, Tarrick proposes to go to Yeagsant. Again, Grandma refuses.

Until she can’t refuse anymore. They haven’t seen anyone else in weeks. Even after going to Yeagsant, they can always go back out into the wild, Tarrick argues. Grandma finally caves in. With a heavy sigh. Grandma, Tarrick and Prothea are half-way on their way to Yeagsant when they have to stop. Tarrick crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot. They’ve taken a wrong turn. The canyon shrinks into a point. Into a cul-de-sac. A dead end.

Grandma groans, one paw on her hip. “The map led us astray.”

“Of course, ‘the map led us astray’.” Prothea glides from up on Tarrick’s shoulder and onto the ground. “Look around you! This entire place has been shifting for years. Remember? There’s something we celebrate every year that teaches us how nothing is permanent and everything shifts once in a while. It starts with an ‘A’ and finishes with ‘Ffliction’.

“You don’t have to be all sarcastic about it!”

“Don’t I?”

“Look, it’s not my fault the map isn’t up to date!”

“Yes, it is! Your job is to get us up to date maps!”

“All right, enough!” Tarrick raises both paws. “Time out. Peace. We’ll get out of here, okay? It’s fine. We just have to follow our footsteps back towards the edge of the road and take another turn.”

“That’s the problem!”

Tarrick blinks. Prothea slaps her paw on her forehead.

“If Grandma’s map isn’t up to date, maybe we’ve been running around in circles for a month! What do you think about that? Huh? We can’t trust a map that leads astray!”

“I see.” Tarrick takes a deep breath. He needs to be calm to think. The sun is hitting especially hard today and the heat gives him a headache. And headaches make it hard to think. Or maybe it’s just Grandma’s and Prothea’s bickering that give him a headache. Or both. “The Growing Rock is in the east, right? It’s over there. See where I’m pointing at? So that’s east. And the sun rises in the east too. So we’re going… we should be going south. Where is Yeagsant, Grandma?”

“In the south.”

“Exactly. We saw it while sitting on the mountain scorlion. Right?”

Prothea stubbornly doesn’t answer. Tarrick pushes on.

“Right?”

“Urgh!” Prothea raises both paws and looks at the sky. “Right! It’s south.”

“Then, that’s where we go! We follow back our footsteps and go south. All right? Follow me!”

Tarrick starts to go back the way they came from. He doesn’t get very far.

The ground rumbles.

“Tarrick! Watch out!”

“Be careful!”

The wall on their right collapses. Rocks cut clean off the wall and fall. Tarrick can’t move. Rooted to the spot by fear. Everything shakes. The ground. The sky. Tarrick’s bones. He falls to his knees and shields his face with his arms. Dust rises. A cloud of dust blinds him. Grandma and Prothea disappear. Tarrick breathes in. Breathes out. He tries to, anyway. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. That is, until the dust settles. Tarrick cracks an eye open. An insurmountable wall of rocks has appeared in front of him. A few paces away.

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“Tarrick! Are you okay?”

Warm arms wrap around him. Tarrick sinks into Grandma’s embrace. Everything still shakes. No, that’s not true. He’s the only one shaking. But everything’s fine. He’s safe, now. Safe.

The first thought that crosses his mind is: he’s lucky to be alive.

The second thought that crosses his mind is this one: they’re stuck. Completely stuck.

“Great. Marvelous. Wonderful!” Prothea’s voice is close to him. On the ground. “We’re stuck.”

That’s true. They really are stuck.

It hits a second later. “Oh, no!” Tarrick pushes himself away from Grandma. They’re stuck! They’re really stuck! “What are we going to do? We’re stuck here! Completely stuck!”

Grandma looks up at the wall. “We can always climb.”

“Climb? No, no, no! That could fall at any moment. We could get killed.”

“Then what do you suggest, Mr. Genius?” Prothea’s voice cuts deep in Tarrick’s fears.

Tarrick points at Prothea. “You!”

“Me?”

“You could fly over that wall. Go get help. We’re going to need it.”

“Um… Tarrick? Prothea?”

“You just said it,” protests Prothea, flying up to put herself in Tarrick’s face. “That wall could collapse again at any moment! I’m not leaving you here.”

“Tarrick? Prothea?”

“But… you have to! You have to go find someone.”

“Who?”

“Anyone! Someone in Yeagsant, maybe?”

“That could take days! Weeks! I told you. I’m. Not. Leaving You. Here!”

“Tarrick! Prothea!”

“What?!”

Grandma points up at the sky. “Look up there.”

They do. Tarrick frowns. He squints at the bright sky. What’s that up there? A feet or two above the wall? Is that… a Davrian? Yes. That’s right! He’s a Davrian. With hooves and horns and a long, thin tail ending in a puff of hair. He sits on a long, thin rock. He’s floating.

Floating?

“Hey!” Prothea waves her arms and wings around. “Hey, come here! Come help us!”

“What are you doing? He could be the one responsible for the wall collapsing!”

“I beg your pardon?” she says.

“Think, for a second! Look at this guy! He’s floating on a rock! In the air! Don’t you think he could be using Meaning? And what does Meaning do except being dangerous and unpredictable?”

“Oh… you’re right.”

“I don’t care,” says Grandma. “He could help us. Hey! Hello! Sir! Can you come down and help us?”

“What are you…” Tarrick pulls on his ears. “I just told you! Don’t do that!”

Too late. The Davrian’s rock floats down at eye level. The Davrian’s legs dangle a foot or so above the ground. That’s not what surprises Tarrick, though. Surprisingly enough. The Davrian looks… well. He doesn’t look like he’s made out of flesh and blood. His fur has been replaced by rock-like skin. It’s a dark grey, almost entirely black. Like volcanic rock. His veins pop. Tiny rivers running up and down the length of his arms, feet, head, and disappearing under his sandy-coloured clothes. Red and orange and yellow. It looks like he’s made of… Of lava. He looks like he’s a walking volcano.

When he opens his eyes, the irises burn like a burning fire. Tarrick shudders.

“What are you?” Tarrick asks.

The Davrian scoffs. He rolls his eyes. “That’s not exactly a nice conversation starter, don’t you think? Do you ask that to every stranger you meet? ‘What are you?’ What kind of question is that?”

“Um… I… I mean… I’m sorry.”

“That’s better.”

“Rycrofth?”

All turn to Grandma. Her mouth hangs open. Her eyes are wide behind her round glasses. Both paws grip her cane, knuckles trembling. She gasps.

“It’s really you.”

The Davrian - Rycrofth, Tarrick supposes - looks from Tarrick to Prothea to Grandma.

“Do I know you?”

“Rycrofth, it’s me! Maeena.”

Rycrofth cocks his head to the side. Then, his mouth and eyes open wide too. Tarrick shudders at the sight. The inside of Rycrofth’s mouth looks like flowing lava.

“Maeena! It’s good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too!”

“Can anyone tell me what’s going on?”

Grandma blinks at Tarrick. “Oh! Of course. Tarrick, Prothea, meet Rycrofth. We know each other from my old Chronicling days!”

“You do?”

“You do?”

Tarrick and Prothea exchange a glance.

“Didn’t your mother tell you about him?” he asks her.

Tarrick had been made aware, a few weeks ago back when they were still waiting for that bridge to open up and let them leave High Tobain, that Prothea’s mother had been Grandma’s familiar way back when she was still exploring the world. Just like, it seems, every member of Prothea’s family had been following Chroniclers around the world for generations. Maybe going way back to Moffram’s times. If that was even possible. The cat-owls knew a thing or two about Chronicling.

Prothea shrugs.

“Mother didn’t tell me everything.”

“That’s not a surprise,” says Grandma. “She wasn’t there when I met Rycrofth. I lost her for a while.”

“Huh. I see.”

Grandma turns her head back towards Rycrofth. “What happened to you? Last time I saw you… well… you were… well, you know…”

“Living in the Vulcan lands, like the walking volcano I am?”

Tarrick blinks. That’s pretty much exactly how he described him in his head. Appropriate, then.

“Well, yes.”

Rycrofth looks around. As if he’s trying to see if anyone is listening. It’s strange. There’s no one here except the caved in wall. Who could be listening to them in such a situation? Tarrick scratches at his ear, deep in thought. Is there someone here? Who could it be? What…

“… dying.”

Tarrick blinks and raises his head.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Rycrofth puts both paws on his hips. He sighs, mouth twisted in frustration.

“That’s… the thing. The thing I was telling your grandmother. I’m dying.”