I wake from a forgotten dream, the shroud of slumber heavily diffusing my mind as I see the sunlight peeking through the top of our teepee.

“First light!” I roll out of my fur bed cover and don my bear poncho and entire.

My ruined lounge pants are now replaced by hemp trousers crafted by a Satyr. It was once another trade source with humans, the talent not forgotten in hopes of selling them again.

Piia is missing, as is Cane who slept outside our shelter. I withdraw some of the blue Tear matter for my breakfast, the calorie-rich food quietens my growling stomach as I search through the village for my friends.

Satyrs wave to me, others bid me good morning, and no one looks particularly happy or upset. Did I miss the Voice’s announcement this morning? I slept so deeply that I am not surprised Piia let me stay in bed, but why on such an important day for the tribe's future and its Shepherd?

Across the nestled tents and teepees of the village, I hear clashing and thuds followed by yelps of pain.

We are under attack!

I sprint towards the conflict, leaping firepits and startling younglings into tears. I burst into a small clearing walled off by large fern trees, a group of sweaty Satyrs trading blows with spears, swords and knives against each other.

They all turn to look at me with disapproving glances for interrupting the training bouts, I catch Piia’s eyes in the group. Sweat glistening in her fur from the morning sun, she nods for me to join her at the edge of the ring.

“What did he say? Why didn’t you wake me?” I question with irritation.

“Nothing. And there was no point.” She retorts, her stress and anxiety on display.

“The Voice said nothing?”

“Exactly, one of his personnel guards woke me in the moonlight. Says the Voice has fallen into a deep trance while communing with our Mother.” She smacks a fern's trunk with her blade, not very respectful to Mother’s realm.

“Is that normal? Did he say when the trance would break?” My whispers of doubt became a screaming echo within me, the certainty of our destiny now hidden in the mist.

“No Seth. I do not know the details of his sanctum or methods, but the Voice has never gone into a trance before. This might be Mother’s will or another's scheming.”

She thinks the Voice is planning something again, why does she loathe him? If the prophecy foretold my coming, could the Voice be hearing the next part from Mother as we speak?

I imagine communing with a God is no simple matter and he is an old, slightly overweight Satyr. All I can do is stay positive and stay busy so my anxiety doesn't keep me up at night.

“When the trance ends, and the Voice has spoken. I will respect Mother’s wishes. But that doesn’t mean I have to leave or abandon the tribe. It also means I haven’t forgotten my promise to you, we will rescue Yetta.”

Piia's frown melts away at my words, she grins up at me.

“But if we want to have any hope of going against those rutting humans, you need to show me how to swing a sword.”

She slaps my arms. “Mother knows those twig arms need it.” She laughs at her own jibe, her long ears twitching with joy.

“These twigs took out three professional hunters, remember.” I flex my skinny limbs.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“No, it was this.” She points at my head. “And this.” She reaches and pulls my hand up to display the brand on my palm. “That killed them. Not many Satyrs recognise that symbol, but the unknown can cause more fear, you should cover it from now on.” I look at the caste sign for the Brotherhood of Disorder, the group of Daemons that share my class of Chaotic Will.

I work at the scarred brand, it feels more flexible than ever before. It felt just as stiff yesterday, maybe that blue jelly substance I used to clean with has broken it down more, another good reason to bathe every day.

“I will find some mittens or a glove for it. Don’t want to freak out the locals.” I give her a wink.

“Good, now while we wait for the Voice’s return to this world. I can teach you how to survive Silva like a native.” A cruel smile plays on her lips.

“Why do I get the impression you will enjoy this more than me?” Her eyes twinkle at my question.

“I heard your struggling breath for the last few days as we merely walked here. Your stamina is that of an elder. No, that is an insult to our old, it resembles an obese human from the settlements.”

“Hey, that’s a bit harsh. We were half dead most of the time and it was a hike through rough terrain with creatures snapping at our heels, or hooves.”

“Mother’s mercy we were lucky, but we can not always rely on that. You will start…”

“By the sword!” I draw my Xiphos, my dramatic unsheathing drawing the attention and further scowls of the duelling Satyrs.

“By running.” She pushes my blade down.

“Seriously? We just ran and hiked for days, I’m fitter than ever.”

“Stamina, endurance and perseverance are all harnessed and strengthened by training the body. We will get to swordplay when your trainers say you are ready.” At that, she turns to an approaching group of Thorns.

“Trainers?” I say.

Yadon and two others pull close. One is a short stocky Satyr with fairly large horns and dark fur all over. The other is a woman, her muscles are toned and sat like cords of rope, the hair on the back of her head is grown into a long mullet with colourful blue feathers attached in ringlets.

“You met Yadon, he will teach you bowmanship and how to handle a spear. This large bull is Toomas and this young Pyhera is Aleksandra.” Alek kissed her teeth at that.

I look at Piia, a little puzzled by the inside joke. She moves next to me as if to whisper, but speaks loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Alek has a fiery nature.”

“Muk the bedroll, Piia. I see you did not lose your wit out there.” Alek snaps.

The others all laugh in good humour, it felt nice to be back in a group of friends, I think this training will be quite fun.

“So Toomas, will you be teaching me the way of the sword?” The stocky bull bellows a deep laugh.

I look to Piia for answers only to catch Aleks burning sneer.

“Who would have guessed that our great male human Shepherd is chauvinistic dung.” Alek yells at me, causing all in the training ring to recoil reflexively. This causes Toomas to laugh even harder, his voice booming through the trees and letting everyone know that it was all schoolyard antics.

“I’m so sorry, I'm just excited to learn about the sword. My Mum always said I should think before I speak.” I apologise and internally kick myself for jumping to conclusions.

“She is a smart woman then, you should take her advice.” Alek’s eyes bore into me and I begin to feel very small under their weight.

“Do not fret about her, Seth. Alek loves to crush men at any given opportunity. You should watch her bouts in the ring later.”

Yadon involuntarily rubs a bruised arm, the skin under the fur is purple and swollen.

“I can agree with that. Alek is the top blade fighter in the tribe. Toomas…

“Is the top scout of Silva!” He yells in the lowest octave I have ever registered.

“Shepherd Seth, I will make you run till that blue Tear jam you keep shoving into your tiny human mouth is smothering your shoes. We will run till your eyes dry up like burnt ashes.

You will run to the crumbling towers of Omnia and back again, and that is before the morning birds wake from Mother’s dreamlands.” Toomas smiles at me with delight.

This isn’t going to be fun.

“Me and Yadon will acquire the equipment needed for your training. You focus on what Toomas has to say, do not lose your leaves over anything else.” Piia says.

“I will, but only if you do the same, deal?” I wink back at her.

“Agreed, I will need to trade for these items. What loot are you willing to part with?”

I rummage through my inventory space, pulling out various traps, weapons and the mushroom core, the other Satyrs seem non-perplexed by storage ability. Yadon holds up Suze, Knife’s favourite rusty blade, and scoffs at its state.

“Careful, that has an advanced poisoning effect called tetanus.” I explain before he can check its sharpness.

“Keep the knife for now, this mushroom core is highly valued as they are only produced in fully grown Tears. Which does not happen often.”

I take the blade, deciding the poison is too risky to place in my belt and store it back in my inventory space.

“Enjoy your training.” She waves me off as the group breaks up.

Toomas stays, his smiling eyes never leaving me.

“Today I will discover what your bark is made of. Let us begin, Shepherd.”

“You can just call me Seth if you like.”

“I do not like.”