12 years ago.

The winter wind howled through the narrow, rocky gorge, bringing with it a chill that penetrated the bone. Marshall sat shivering on a rock near the waterfall, his small hands clenched into fists as he tried to hold back the shivers. The cold bit into his exposed skin, and each breath turned into a cloud of vapor that quickly dispersed in the icy air.

A man with a majestic bearing and stern features stood in front of him, immobile like an ancient tree withstanding storms. His imposing figure was like a rock in the winter landscape, and his deep, dark eyes fixed on Marshall with a mixture of expectation and rigor.

"Dad, please... can we go home?" Marshall's voice was a faint whisper, his expression a mix of desperation and fear. "It's too cold here."

The father looked at him, his eyes reflecting an inner turmoil that Marshall couldn't yet understand. "Marshall, this is an important lesson. You must learn to withstand the cold. It will fortify you, and make you a dignified and virtuous person. Life will test you, and challenge you. It is in these moments that you must find the strength to endure."

But Marshall didn't see strength; he saw only a father trying in every way to make him his own carbon copy. What sense did it make to put a child in such an extreme condition? The temperature was probably below zero degrees, Marshall was wet from head to toe, and moreover, he was also bare-chested. His eyes filled with tears, not just from the biting cold, but from the weight of those too-heavy expectations on the shoulders of a child like him.

The father knelt down, bringing himself to Marshall's level. "A life lived doing difficult things," he said with a voice that, though firm, was tinged with just a hint of emotion, "is a life well-lived. This is what makes men great, my son. This is what will make you great."

Present.

The sky above them had begun to sprinkle stars like water droplets in a nocturnal sea. Marshmallow and the Goat Horse, after a seemingly endless day, had found refuge in a hidden cave whose entrance opened onto a quiet, isolated clearing.

Marshmallow moved instinctively, gathering dry branches and leaves for the fire. Every muscle in his body protested as he bent and moved; he was exhausted, but the night was cold and the fire was a necessity. Beside him, the Goat Horse, transformed back into his humanoid form, clumsily helped by carrying larger logs.

The flames crackled once the fire was lit, casting dancing shadows on the cave walls. Marshmallow sat close to the fire, stretching his hands towards the warmth, watching the flames with tired but restless eyes.

The silence was broken by the Goat Horse who snorted, sitting stiffly on the other side of the fire.

"You know, Marshmallow," he began, barely concealing his disappointment, "for a so-called leader, your sense of direction leaves much to be desired."

Marshmallow looked up, his eyes reflecting the flames. "Oh, really? And what have you done to help? After half an hour you were already tired. We're not on a stroll, we're looking for the Gear Savannah!"

The Goat Horse crossed his arms. "Maybe, if I had a guide who didn't change direction every five minutes, I could conserve some energy!"

Marshmallow shook his head. "Tsk. Ada gave me a compass with a broken needle."

The Goat Horse couldn't help but laugh, albeit reluctantly. In that moment of truce, Marshmallow spotted something beyond the flames, a figure moving in the night.

Marshmallow stared intently past the dancing flames, his eyes trying to penetrate the darkness enveloping the clearing. The figure he had glimpsed was like a fleeting shadow, an uncertainty moving at the edge of his perception.

"Do you see that?" Marshmallow whispered, leaning towards the Goat Horse. His voice was low as if he feared disturbing the night air.

The Goat Horse moved closer, trying to follow Marshmallow's gaze. "What? I don't see anything," he replied, scrutinizing the darkness with a concentrated expression.

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"It was there, among the trees," Marshmallow said, standing up. He felt his heart beating faster. "A figure, it was barely moving. It could be something... or someone."

The Goat Horse stood beside him, his large, bulky body tense, ready to react. "Do you think it's dangerous?" he asked seriously.

Marshmallow nodded slowly. "I don't know, but we need to find out. It could be a clue to the Gear Savannah, or maybe another player. Maybe a Novgovian."

Marshmallow and the Goat Horse grabbed their things and ventured out of the safety of their cave with silent steps, leaving behind the comforting warmth of the fire. They moved cautiously, each step measured to avoid making noise.

Marshmallow led the way, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The night air was fresh and biting, but Marshmallow felt only the adrenaline coursing through his veins. They stopped, hiding behind a large tree while scanning the clearing. The figure was still there, moving slowly among the trees as if searching for something, or someone.

"What do we do?" the Goat Horse whispered, his eyes fixed on the dark figure.

Marshmallow took a deep breath. "Let's confront it," he said, his voice betraying a newfound resolve. "But cautiously. Be ready for anything."

Marshmallow stepped forward, his gaze locked on the figure moving in the night. He felt a mix of curiosity and subtle anxiety, like an electric current running down his spine. "We need to see who or what it is," he said, his voice laden with determination that sought to suppress any doubt.

The Goat Horse, standing next to him, seemed less convinced. "Are you sure, Marshmallow? It could be dangerous," he observed, his gaze shifting from the dark figure to Marshmallow.

Marshmallow nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. "I know, but it might be a key to the Gear Savannah. Or at least a lead." His hand brushed the amulet around his neck, feeling the hammer inside as a silent call to the strength he possessed.

The Goat Horse sighed deeply, then nodded. "Alright, I'll follow you. But at the first sign of danger, we retreat." His expression was serious, but there was a light of trust in his eyes.

Marshmallow was puzzled. “Since when do you get scared so easily?” The Goat Horse ignored the question and pretended it was nothing. But then he replied, “It's just caution. We're not in the Ashenwood anymore. Riding brought us to another forest, one I don't know and don't know where we are.”

Together, they cautiously moved through the clearing, approaching the mysterious figure. Their steps were light on the cold grass, each movement calculated to avoid making noise. Marshmallow led, keeping his senses alert, ready to react to any potential danger.

The figure seemed unaware of their presence, continuing to move slowly among the trees. Marshmallow felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger and excitement of the moment.

As they drew closer, Marshmallow began to see the contours of the figure more clearly: it appeared to be a tall, slender man, moving with a purpose Marshmallow couldn't yet understand.

"Be careful," the Goat Horse whispered, his voice as low as the rustling of leaves.

As they proceeded, the terrain changed, becoming more rugged and wild. Marshmallow felt the earth beneath them become rougher, more uneven, with hidden rocks amidst the tall grass. They had to be careful not to trip or fall while maintaining their focus on the figure.

Their pursuit led them deep into the forest. The figure, always one step ahead of them, suddenly stopped at a wide clearing. Marshmallow and the Goat Horse flattened themselves behind a large tree, observing attentively.

From that distance, Marshmallow could finally clearly see the figure: an unusual-looking man, wearing a cloak that seemed woven from shadows and light. In his hands, he held an object that glowed faintly under the moonlight.

The man turned as if he had heard something, scanning the forest. Marshmallow held his breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest. The Goat Horse beside him was motionless, his eyes fixed on the man.

Then, unexpectedly, the man began to speak, but not to them. He spoke out loud, as if communicating with someone Marshmallow and the Goat Horse couldn't see. "I have found the key," the man said, "the key to the Gear Savannah. It's here."

Marshmallow and the Goat Horse exchanged a glance. This was the moment they had been waiting for. With a nod, they decided to reveal themselves.

"Who are you?" Marshmallow asked, emerging from the shadows cautiously. "And what do you mean by 'key to the Gear Savannah'?"

The man turned towards them, surprised but not frightened. "I am a truth seeker, just like you," he replied, his voice calm and deep. "This key," he said, raising the glowing object in his hand, "is what opens the passage to the Gear Savannah. A forgotten place, hidden by an enigma."

Marshmallow felt a shiver of excitement. "Can you take us there?" he asked, approaching the man.

The man nodded slowly. "I can. But the path is not simple, nor free of dangers. Do you have the courage to follow me?"

Marshmallow exchanged another look with the Goat Horse. Both understood this was the turn they were seeking, the opportunity to discover the Gear Savannah. With a deep breath, they nodded silently.

The man smiled, a smile that hid more than it revealed. "Then follow me," he said, turning towards the clearing. "The Gear Savannah awaits you."