Larisa didn’t waste any time when going down the spur. The only moment she took was to put the book into her biggest satchel. She couldn’t lose it now.

She hooked the bag over her shoulder and swiftly climbed down. Her arm ached and a strong and vicious pain shot up from her hand to her shoulder. She couldn’t let it bother her. Larisa gritted her teeth and fastened her step.

“LARISA!” Another one. Larisa could hardly tell if it was Farre’s or Ha’na’s voice. The panic and pain in it was as hot and brutal as molten rock over her skin and she couldn’t make out the identity of the caller. But she was sure it was one of her companions.

She knew she had to be fast so she pulled an arrow from her quiver and set it on the nocking point. The tall woman had to be prepared to shoot.

As Larisa jumped over protruding vines and uneven terrain, with bush after bush harshly brushing against her armour, the smoke that she saw in the sky before started to be seen from within the jungle.

There was a smell in the air, a very subtle aroma of soot and wood that danced around Larisa. Her nose itched and she could feel some of the dust from the burning canopies fall onto her shoulders.

Breathing was getting tough.

As she crossed deeper into the smoke she heard shuffling and a sound of steel on steel. When she cleared a particularly dense piece of plant life she came upon an image of a fight.

There, right before her, stood Farre that seemingly was protecting Ha’na. The black-haired woman stood behind her with her rusty dagger held in a shaky grip. Farre seemed to be on defence, so Larisa looked further. To where the fight was happening.

The space around was small and offered only a vignette point to view. Some dark leaves and protruding branches obscured pieces of further ground, but blond hair and a fair skin glistened like a full moon from ahead.

What she saw surprised her as she could recognize the tall and muscular figure of Rowela. The weaponsmaster. The blacksmith as Farre has called her. Her fair skin was covered in blotches of red and thick substance. Blood, Larisa thought. A human one.

In her grip was a mean and sharp looking double-bladed axe as long as her arm. Larisa could tell she held it in a powerful and experienced grip as when she swung the axe down the blade penetrated from the shoulder to the chest of a man. A man that was dressed like Farre when they first met.

He looked similar to Izaaj. Dressed in a better quality leather armour than Farre’s and with a tightly gripped long sword in his weakening grip. It was a fine blade and the red cape that almost blended into the deep shade of blood that he wore over his back, made her remember about the gourds around Ha’na’s camp. Those were the strong soldiers. Supposedly.

Larisa’s never seen a person die before. She had a stray thought every once in a while if it would the same as killing a beast. That train of thought almost always ended quickly, though. But upon looking at the strained expression on the man’s face and a light diminishing from his greying eyes, she knew that it was different. There was a sickening feeling coming from underneath her heart.

The Essence in the air has been potent with acidic fear and a fiery rage many steps before she approached this battlefield. But now, as Larisa looked upon where the man’s body laid down, she could see a shrivelling in the Essence. A dark and grey strings of it formed from the man’s body and went into the earth. There was power there. Power that Larisa didn’t want to see ever again.

“Larisa! Come on! We have to go!” Ha’na noticed the blond’s woman presence first and immediately went to her. The other two women turned to Larisa after that.

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Farre had a scared and relieved sort of expression on her sweaty face. The Essence around her spiralled in a complex combination of feelings. Larisa couldn’t bother to figure them out now. The tallest woman out of the four of them stood a bit further ahead, still as a rock, with the soldier’s body beneath her feet. From the end of her axe blood was dripping into the ground. Larisa felt sick. Her heart was hammering in her chest and breathing has become deeper. A strange current travelled through her body, filling her muscles and tendons with a rippling power. She has never felt like this before.

“Rowela, come on! Quickly, there’s more on the way!” Farre came closer to the blood-soaked woman. Larisa almost yelled for her to stop as there was danger leeching off of the muscular woman. But then when Larisa met the other woman’s eyes she could see something similar. She felt as if this Rowela felt the same way.

Sick with excitement.

That’s what it was, Larisa realized. Her heart and breath didn’t speed up because of fear. Her body didn’t receive a surge of powerful vigor to run. It was all to fight. And kill.

How sick was that?

“I’m coming.” As Rowela answered Farre, the four women started to move into the direction of the spur. There was a bit of shuffling as the dense vegetation offered limited movement.

“What about the fire?” Larisa asked. It was strange, wasn’t it? There was a lot of smoke coming into the air, but Larisa haven’t actually seen any flames. And didn’t the captain and the professor say that without the scale they wouldn’t be able to burn it?

“There’s no fire.” To Larisa’s surprise, it was Rowela that answered. Her voice possessed a gruffness to it that Larisa didn’t remember her having. “It was a ruse to get you to come. They set the fire, but it didn’t take. It just did a lot of smoke.” The blacksmith spoke and Larisa took a moment to watch her a bit. She was dressed in leather armour and had bandoliers and pouches wrapped around her body. There was a small curved dagger at her hip and boots of great quality adored her feet. She was dressed for survival. Why was she here?

Larisa wanted to watch the woman some more but they met eyes and she felt as if it was not a right time. Rowela’s light hair was dishevelled and blood marked her face in some places. Larisa wondered how she felt? She also wondered how she would feel in her place?

“We need to get the scale back. Fast too. There were many soldiers coming from what I saw.” Farre huffed out.

“They will try to follow us. I cannot hide tracks for all of us.” Ha’na added.

“Then let’s move.” Larisa sped up.

The run to the spur was not long, but exhausting all the same. Almost all four of them were red in the face and had trouble controlling their breathing. Even Larisa struggled and she ran almost every day through this place. Only Farre seemed not bothered. Larisa thought back to her physique. Built for endurance.

“I’ll get it. You stay here and watch.” Farre offered, and the others could hardly argue so they stood vigil at the foot of the rocky protrusion.

As Farre started to climb and she was around double Larisa’s height high, the blond woman started to hear something.

Stomping coming closer. She could recognize the sound and the rhythm of the steps as basilisks. What were they doing here?

Just to be safe Larisa nocked her arrow onto her bow.

“Something’s coming.” She said to the other two women.

“No…” Ha’na spoke to her left and Larisa looked to her face.

“We have to go! Farre come back here! We don’t have time!” The black-haired woman screamed in fear and panic. Larisa didn’t understand.

“What? Why the hell would I do that?” Farre exclaimed from up above.

“The soldiers are coming, you idiot! Many of them! Get down! They won’t know there’s a cave there if you’re not up there! The scale will be safe!” Ha’na said some more and Farre started to go down.

“We will regret this, you know that?” The angry and scared red-head spoke to the other women.

Larisa understood Ha’na’s deduction. If they wouldn’t show that there’s a cave up this spur, they could overlook it and the scale would be safe. It was still a gamble in Larisa’s eyes.

“We would have to go back for it.” She added to the group. The footsteps were fast approaching.

“Sure, sure! We need to go! Now!” Ha’na pulled Larisa along. Farre and Rowela followed.

Now they had to run. So that’s what they did.

Larisa thought back to the start of the day. How easy it was beginning to feel. They got the scale, they succeeded, somewhat. It was not as simple as that, apparently. But, there was one thing gained from this hellishly brutal endeavour.

The book on Larisa’s back. The book with her father’s name in it.