“This is Seth, this is your Shepherd.” Piia yells at the surrounding Satyrs.

A young male eyes me with confusion before offering his hand. No bukkehorn sat upon his skull, it had been worked away to the flesh leaving angry, cracked skin.

“Thanks.” I say while being helped to my feet.

I notice he holds the ‘branch’ (a knobbed stave) that collided with my head. The Elixir's energy bled away as my brain slowly recovers from the rattling he welcomed me with. I could hear excited whispering, their Shepherd had finally arrived.

“You are the one? You will lead us to safe lands?” The male questions, suspicion evident in his voice and eyes, which rapidly contorts into alarm as he looks past me.

Every ear in the group suddenly perks up, the Satyrs form a defensive wall with their weapons ready. Cane careens through the bush at high speed, he slides to a halt next to me causing the male to fall back on his haunches. The hippo's jaws agape, roars with protective fury at my assailant.

“Easy Cane. They are friendly, their Piia’s people.” I soothe him with a gentle head rub.

Drawn bows, blades shining and spears levelled, the group remain cocked. Ready for the call to unleash themselves on my hippo, none came. Piia reaches Cane and hugs the hippo with affection.

“This is a member of the Shepherd’s flock, he is a brother to us all.” Piia states to the onlookers.

The male rises to his hooves and stares in bewilderment at Cane and then back at me.

He beckons his comrades to lower their arms and states aloud. “Our Voice proclaimed Mother’s champion would be of Man and mighty, for only he could tame a wild beast for his flock. Mother be praised, we are saved!”

Cheers erupt through the forest as the initial danger of my presence turns to salvation.

I had assumed their trust would be hard earned, it seems our luck was turning a new leaf. Piia begins embracing each of the Satyrs, another prime example of the power of words, as the standoff instantly becomes an emotional reunion.

The group are all young, the majority female and would be in secondary school back in my world. Their thread woven packs sag with the weight of harvested roots, a foraging party with an armed guard. I see Sofia clutching tightly to another woman, her face smothered into the lady's fur as she sleeps deeply, finally safe with her own people.

That poor child will need therapy or strong psychedelics if she’s ever going to recover. The caring woman looks on with concern as Cane snorts loudly, I notice everyone staring and keeping their distance from him. Crouching next to him, I whisper a command into his ears that makes him roll onto his side.

“Everyone, come meet Cane. He’s a gentle fat giant.” I beckon them over and show them where he loves scratches. The children giggle as his ears flutter like a hummingbird's wings.

A few younglings stroke my bear poncho, I realise they must have been afraid of me as well. Not only human, the source of their trepidations and oppressors, but also wearing the hide of Mother’s Guardian.

“I apologise for the smell, we have had a hard journey to find you.” I confess.

“All men smell, this is not strange.” An innocent boy squeaks at me from under Cane’s jaws.

“Seth, I want you to meet Yadon.” Piia leads the hornless male to me.

“Nice to meet you Yadon.” I offer my hand, he embraces me in a deep hug.

“My sorry for hitting you Shepherd. I did not know.” He says with genuine concern.

“If a smelly weirdo was sprinting through the woods at me, I would hit them too.” I feel a wave of relief in my tired body, the exhausting trek is finally over, and now we can relax in the reasonably safe confines of the tribe and recover. Sana's healing salve and empowering Elixir did wonders in the short term, however consistent sleep could not be beat.

“We must see the Voice.” Piia says with a deep frown.

“You must know, he has named you ‘tainted’ Piia.” Yadon's brief happiness vanishes at the mention of their tribal leader.

“Tainted? That is muking rude.” I vent.

“That was before I brought the Shepherd here, Mother knows I am pure.”

Yadon just nods, not looking convinced.

“What does he mean by tainted?” I try to catch up with tribal lingo.

“An old omen that The Voice declared law, he stated that any who leave the safety of the tribe for too long will be soiled by the world outside Mother’s domain, they are tainted and bring doom to all that interact with them.”

That sounded like typical cult leader practices, I should be careful about expressing my opinions amongst the tribe. Being the prophesied leader gives me some weight, however their Voice and their religion are the foundation of these prophecies and will need humouring for me to stay within the group's trust.

“We should talk to the Voice straight away, can you take us to him?”

“Of course. He announced you would be with us soon, he said it only a few suns ago.” He reels with overflowing excitement.

“I must admit to you Yadon, I am surprised by how well you have taken to Seth being our Shepherd and human.” She wonders aloud.

Don’t question the new leaf Piia, I think to myself, as she should have done.

“Our Voice affirmed his human condition, Mother is wise, she knew to forewarn us.” He beams back at her.

“Come on Cane.” I beckon the hippo who is currently being mobbed by tons of children.

Yadon leads us through the forest landscape, the lush verdure consists mostly of ferns, each stage of their lifecycle displayed with juvenile shrubs to mature trees. Light patterns dance across the dark soil as the wind jostles the canopy.

Clumps of bright aqua mushrooms mottle the nutrient ground, their wide chode caps ranging from pinheads to small serving plates. I poke one with my foot and surprisingly discover a solid firmness, unlike the fragile funguses native to my world.

“Mother’s Tears. We cultivate and tend large patches, utilising every part of the shroom. I am fond of a specific brew that makes tasty porridge and teas.” Piia informs me.

“I look forward to trying them. Why Mother’s Tears though?”

“They can grow taller than Verox if left unharvested, when they do they bring only tears to Mother’s people.” She says with ominous implications.

“More Silva fun?”

“Exactly, such adeptness with little time.” Piia giggles, I can’t remember when she had last smiled.

“What do you mean by ‘little time’?” Yadon questions as he pushes through the foliage, the party is now walking single file along a goat trail. Me and Piia share a look, she shrugs at me causing me to chuckle, I am not the only quick learner.

“I have only arrived in these lands recently and Satyr culture is unusual to me.” The tribe is expecting a human, so I think being honest about my ignorance won’t offend anyone, at least to a limit of truth.

A pang of guilt hits me as I remember Piia questioning me about my Chaotic will, I should smooth things over with her now, keep the truth river flowing.

“What lands did you come from? And how did you get here?” Yadon stops on the track to investigate, blocking the party's movements.

“Not now shorthorn, we will only have to repeat Seth’s story in a few leaf falls.” Piia pushes him on.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Shorthorn.” I bark a laugh causing many to glance at me in surprise.

“It is what we call young males amongst my people when they act like children.” She admits, laughing with me.

“We have similar jibes back home, I will teach you some.”

“Now?”

“Later, I actually wanted to catch up with you.” This is not a conversation I wanted to have with the tribe so close, a few stages of trust too soon.

“You did, you are standing next to me.” Her ears twitch in amusement.

“Smartarse, that’s what we would call you back home,” - I lower my voice, so only Piia can hear, I hope, “I mean I want to talk to you about something, privately.”

She simply nods and slows down a tad, Yadon’s eager strides increase the distance between us and him. I call Cane over to walk behind us and become a big pink leathery wall of flesh to separate the line.

“Speak then.” Her voice, almost a whisper is difficult to hear with the rustling bushes, chattering children and forest fauna.

“My Chaos power, that you saw me use against the hunters. I was afraid to tell you about it. I was worried you would think I was one of them.”

“A Daemon you mean, wielding a power bestowed upon you by their Overlord Omnia.”

“Yes, I barely understand it myself. I didn’t even want to use it, but then I had no choice. This whole quest or journey we are on is serious. Meeting you on my first day wasn’t an accident Piia.

I was scared that telling you about this dark power would jeopardise everything. But what is even more important to me was losing your trust, your friendship means more to me than all of this.” I say with sincerity.

She turns her head and beams a smile at me. “Before me and Sofia reached the tribe, I was thinking about it. I was annoyed with you and angry that you had kept it a secret.

But I realised that even though you are the Shepherd, our Shepherd. You are alone in this world. No family, no tribe, no friends except me. And Cane of course. So I get why you didn’t say anything, fear does weird things to us. It stops us from saving people we love.”

She is quiet for a second, I reach over and squeeze her shoulder.

“I won’t abandon you or this journey, just because Omnia also thinks you’re special. Rut me, you have the favour of all the Gods, when you consider it.”

“Lucky me.”

“Take their gifts, their weapons and empowerment. Did you have to use the Chaos ritual this time?”

The Reaver’s face flashes in my memory, I begin to sweat as my heart pounds.

The idea of empowering again is terrifying, having to face that Reaver to gain more strength. I’ve exhausted my supply of Spirit to give and this deep in Mother’s domain I imagine the surplus of Men and Daemons is low.

Making the horror of empowering again a torment for future Seth. I will have to cross that bridge to become the leader the Satyrs expect, until then there is no need to dwell on it. Though trauma isn’t so easily forgotten and knowing that cosmic nightmare lurking just out of sight.

“Same ritual, it went fine.” I lie, the reality is too harrowing to admit and Piia can’t empower, she will never be in the presence of a Reaver. Absolute honesty between friends and family is a fabricated fairytale, our deceit protects them from our own troubles and terrors. Yadon, noticing we had fallen behind, is waiting for us.

“You must be tired after your travels, Piia mentioned you saved Sofia from hunters.” His patience dwindling to nothing in anticipation to hear our tales. With this law stating anyone that leaves will be tainted, no one probably leaves the safety of the tribe at all, new faces bring new entertainment.

“It was a fair amount of luck that saved us, Order’s presence certainly played a part.” I goaded him, revealing little of the actual conflict.

“How so?”

“The rot in their heads had them cutting each other at the first chance.”

“Typical humans,” his resentment quickly turns to embarrassment, “No offence meant Shepherd.” He looks away awkwardly.

“No worries and please call me Seth. One thing that I can’t get over is how young Sofia is. How did she get away from the safety of the tribe?”

“We are unsure as well, she is not of our tribe. Using her as bait is a hideous tactic that I have not heard of. These Hunters grow more cunning and numerous by the moon.” His voice grew angry, there is a hungry warrior in Yadon.

I had assumed they caught Sofia in the forest surrounding their tribe, however I remember Flat Nose mentioning he bought her and intended her to be bait. So along with the bukkehorn being of value, they must also sell the Satyrs at a market. It might be where Piia’s sister, Jette, ended up.

“I did not expect to find hunters in this part of Silva, being so heavily protected by Mother and her Guardians.” I remark.

“They come in small groups, using stealth to avoid our great champions. They are always waiting in the shadows, opportunists lurking for the right moment.”

“Why not fight back? I’ve seen Piia with a bow, she could take out those smoothskins by herself.” I brag with genuine confidence.

“We did for many seasons, Mother knows we tried. It is why you see no elders with us now.” Yadon dishearteningly glances at the moving tribe, now mingling around us as the pathway widens again, many want to be close to the newcomers.

“We lost.” Piia adds for the final nail of defeat.

“How? It’s your home advantage, you know these woods better than anyone alive. Guardians and Verox supporting you, Mother overwatching her realm. How?”

“When we started to bring groups, they brought more. They have more skills, abilities and powers. Satyrs are a passive people, our knowledge of battle is lost with the older generations.

We only started again when Order turned against us. Man has fought their entire history, it is their culture and they fuel it with a passion for organised violence. The tribe could not match that. Now we only hide.” Yadon explains.

“Satyrs still train with arms, our Voice encourages us to hide, and wait for you.” Piia throws me a look, a creeping smile that never reaches her eyes.

They are betting everything on me, their families, friends and entire tribe are idling by while hunters pick them apart and Daemons loom on the horizon. All in the hope that I can lead them to new lands.

I contemplate my responsibilities while we push deeper. The swirling bioluminescence of Mother was far thicker here, the swirls of bodies passing through the aura were captivating. Clumps of Mother’s Tears are thriving underneath the giant fern trees, Satyrs harvesting the largest and placing them in wicker baskets.

They turn their heads and watch the procession passing by, voices and murmuring could be heard all around us. I see tired and grief stricken faces that break into joyous grins as the whispers of my arrival catch up to them.

I hear a commotion up ahead as another group strides towards us, mostly males wielding spears with coloured feathers dangling at the point. What separated these armed men from the forager's guard were the tribal masks covering their heads.

Each one is crafted in wood with swirls and bespoke expressions painted into the grain. Many showed snarling features of dramatic features reminding me of comedy and tragedy masks in theatre. A slightly taller Satyr led this pack, his limbs were covered in plates of dark red wood, Ferrum armour.

“I assumed your Voice would be older.” I say to Yadon.

“That is not the Voice. I will speak for us, otherwise you may not make it to see him.” Yadon directs to Piia who scowls in return.

The leader came to a dramatic halt by slamming the butt of his spear into the ground.

“Stop tainted! By the Voices graceful soul, how dare you lead Order to us.”

Before Yadon could speak, Piia steps ahead.

“Shut your muking mouth you hairless sack, this is the Shepherd, the one our Voice has promised us for so long!”

“Begone tainted.” He says while lowering his spear at her.

I considered drawing my Xiphos, however escalating the tension with more threats seemed a quick way to get skewered by his friends.

“Cane!” I yell at the top of my lungs, drawing everyone's attention.

My bulbous hippo charges forward and roars a urine coaxing threat. I walk beside him and rest my hand across his head, scratching his ears and ignoring their pointy sticks.

“This is Cane, he is a member of my flock and believe it or not, he is here to help. As is Piia, as am I. Your Shepherd. Now we have wasted enough time walking through this green ocean, hindered by every damn Daemon and hunter between here and Neverland. So take me to your Voice before Mother drops a tree on you.”

They mutter amongst themselves, doubt and belief mix throughout the tangle of Satyr guards.

“This beast of Daemon spawn, this Cane. He is under your command?” Says their pack leader.

“Command is a good word for it, though I would say it’s a mutual friendship. Go play with the children Cane.” He saunters off towards the younglings, quickly being enveloped again by a wave of tiny furry bodies.

“We were told only recently that the Shepherd would be of man. I will take you to our Voice, Piia you must stay here.”

“Not going to happen, she is not tainted and we are finishing this journey together.” We share a smile.

“The Voice will not allow a hint of taint near him or the inner tribe. This is final.”

“We are happy to wait here.” I sit down, creating a ripple from my epicentre as the crowd following begins to sit as well. Witnessing the effect they simply nod in understanding, before turning and leaving. Two remain behind, keeping their distance and a tight grip on their spears.

“Friends, come have a seat with us.” I beckon them over, hoping to build rapport. My exhausted mind and body protested for rest before extensive social engagements. Not all demands need succumbing to immediately, no matter how much I internally yearn for a shower and a bed. The guards look away, pretending to have not heard me.

“What’s the story with that group?” I say to Piia while nodding at the guards.

“When we lost our veteran warriors, the Voice took in the oldest males to train personally. By oldest, I mean only 14 to 16 summers. He keeps them close by, and calls them Mother’s Thorns.”

“Training warriors, I suppose that's a smart move.”

“So it would seem, soon after he scribed laws and rules. Of course at the behest of Mother. His Thorns enforce those rules.”

“Tastes of Gestapo.”

“What is that?”

“A very bad mindstrain for us, if I am right about them.”

“Worse than the bag of screams?”

“Holy Mother no, I can’t believe Livingston sold that so cheap. I was expecting a deep shrill or toe curling shriek. That was literally deafening.”

“My ears are still ringing, the bark wrap was a clever plan.”

“Was lucky we had bought it, I am not sure we would have survived otherwise. We need to find his emporium again once we have some loot to trade.”

“I agree.”

The mosh pit of younglings quivers as Cane's large head raises suddenly. He pans around rapidly, sniffing deep wafts of air.

“What is it buddy?” I ask while standing up with concern.

He continues to inspect our relaxed world, imposing a sense of dread on me. What can he smell that has him so worried? I remember my new ability, acquired during my empowerment by the Predator Spirit.

Cattle senses

I internally activate it with ease, no menus of runes to cypher through, just automatic manipulation. An overwhelming cascade of stimuli rocks my world, causing me to fall to the ground.

“Seth!” Piia yells at my collapsed state, the guards turn in alarm.

The smells of the tribe were slamming me with musky odours and food on their breath. The ability has amplified my senses 100-fold compared to the short burst gained post empowerment.

The rotting plant matter and earthy tones of Mother’s aura were the strongest scents in the air, however a sickly sweetness was leaking through from upwind. I turn into the breeze along with Cane’s maw. Clumps of blue mushrooms were thriving in large colonies, I clock a single mushroom radiating the sickly stink that churned my stomach.

It begins to quiver with motion.