The dried fern sides of my teepee shudder as they’re continuously whacked. I groggily shake off a strange dream about being back home and talking with my parents. I had been explaining the world of Silva to them until my parents' home collapsed on us.

I open my eyes to witness the teepee’s conical precipice wavering from side to side, a creature of Omnia’s Daemon hell must be aggressively kicking the support beams.

A low growl, like boulders rolling over each other, could be heard from my entrance, Cane feeling my irritation and most likely his own from the early wake up call.

Cattle Sense

I see three spawns of muk through his eyes. Not Daemons, but equally as bad, Thorns. They are stepping away in alarm, spears trembling as they’re levelled at my hippo.

“What in Mother’s sweet dream do you want?” I yell, not bothering to hide my resentment of these oppressive police puppets. I knew their presence here would be in relation to my upcoming trial, but nobody likes being woken up rudely and I was trying to be difficult.

“The Voice will speak to you at once.” A young female Satyr squeaks, clearly unsettled by Cane’s continuing hostility. The Voice is playing more games, the sudden announcement of the next trial is unexpected and intentionally so.

“Give me five leaf falls.” I tug on my poncho and garments.

Piia’s bedroll had been empty all night. I wanted to discuss the Depths of Death with her and coincidentally she has been placed on a far reaching patrol that will last a few days.

At the same time, Toomas has been ordered to take a squad of newly recruited Thorns through basic fitness with Yadon forced to assist in the training. The Voice uses the opportunity of announcing the trials to instigate new rulings or single out individuals to contribute towards the betterment of the tribe.

How can I play chess with a Satyr that moves my pieces? I roll out the teepee entrance and into the bulbous mass of Cane, he snorts my hair and rubs affectionately against me.

“Good morning my Pinkish Knight in shining leather.” I take my time to scratch his ears and inspect the wounds along his side.

“Let us go smoothskin, we can not keep the Voice waiting.” The young Satyr says, finding her own voice with my appearance. Cane clamps his jaws aggressively with a wet thud, causing the Thorns to recoil like frightened fawns.

“Have you ever seen a hippo before?” I casually ask while inspecting the bark wrap for infection.

“No.” She says with a hint of curiosity.

“They are from the lands that the Daemons call home, bear in mind he is only cattle to them. Just as cows and goats are to the human settlements.” I beckon her over, she steps closer, the other Thorns following at her hoof, spears pointing towards the brightening sky.

“He likes to be scratched here.” I show her his favourite spot behind the ears and also under his dense jaw muscles. She hesitantly reaches out with her hand but snaps back as Cane watches her move.

“It's fine, he won’t bite. I promise.” I grab and guide her arm. Soon all the Thorns are getting involved to Cane’s delight. They ask questions about him and even start picking away the dried out bark wrap, I repress a gag.

They chit-chat amongst each other as well, the tension dying while my hippos gruffs in satisfaction. The removal of bark wrap must be common in their social culture as none of them hesitate to get involved and are not squeamish at the removal process, I stick to his pygmy ears.

A young Thorn rushes over.

“The Voice is ready!” He echoes an impatience clearly not originating from himself.

His comrades step back from Cane and sour professionalism now paints their only recently happy states.

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“Then let’s go.” I indicate to Cane and follow the now leading child soldier towards the village centre and the Sanctuary.

Little chat escapes the guard's lips as they escort me on, I see why Piia struggles to build rapport with them during her routine patrols. The essence of friendly Satyrs is hidden under a shallow surface of duty to a fascist leader.

I see a plethora of masked Thorns surrounding their personal antelope Mussolini. The Voice welcomes me with his usual facade of a joyous smile that never reaches his eyes.

“Seth my son, I have incredible news from our benevolent Mother.” He acclaims so loudly that the whole village can hear, I now understand why we are meeting outside the Sanctuary. What is a show without an audience?

“So I have heard, the Depths of Death sounds more daunting than incredible. I had hoped you could enlighten me with the details of this trial.” He begins strolling away, indicating for me to follow. The Thorns and Cane are in tow.

“Titles serve simple purposes, they are tossed around over the ages like fruit against a tree. Some stick while most don’t. This cave system is nothing to fear from a young warrior, such as yourself. It just requires a head with more thoughts than air in it. The tribe named these caves the Depths of Death to scare children away.”

“That’s fairly sound reasoning.”

“You would think so, but Satyr children are thicker than Ferrum bark. Seven Satyr younglings have gone missing in the caves. Mother requires you to return them to the village.”

A mission to rescue seven of them, if Boi is anything to go on this is going to be a struggle.

“Excellent, now is there anything at all I should know about these caves?”

“The caves will be darker than night during a new moon, fear not for I shall provide you Mother’s light to guide her potential champion.” He yells the last part to surrounding villagers, even smiling and waving to some as we continue this parade through the teepees.

He rummages inside his heavy fur clock and provides a tiny half-full jar containing green fairy lights, he must have collected them from the Sanctum's chimney. Why would he not even bother to fill it completely?

“That is very kind of you Voice. I will prepare immediately for this excursion.”

“No need, you have Mother’s light and this large pig animal. You will begin immediately.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder and grips it tightly, we are now passing through the mushroom farm and reaching the edge of the village. The Thorns bunching, while still distancing themselves from Cane, to ensure I have no option.

“I would like to discuss tactics with my friends, cave spelunking isn’t a simple walk in the woods.”

The Voice halts the group of Thorns with a signal and leads us away from the pack.

“It’s simple Seth, don’t get lost. Take your time and ensure you venture deep, those children are surely in the bowels of the Depths, and you must save all five of them. Alas, Mot…

“I thought there were seven missing Younglings?”

The Voice’s irritated expression, for being cut off, quickly morphed into his political smile.

“My old mind, seven. Yes all seven of them. But what is more important is Mother’s primary task during these trials. She wishes for you to harvest the seed of a Ferrum tree.”

“That’s the primary task? What is so special about this seed?”

“It will prove courage that the Shepherd must possess to lead our people. The symbol of the Ferrum is intertwined with the history and future of Mother’s followers. Satyrs are nomadic in desperate situations but always return to the goliaths of Silva’s forests.

They provide resources and protection that correlate to the success of every generation. Mother demands you retrieve the seed, for when our true Shepherd is revealed. We will travel to distant lands and be able to sow lands with the mighty plant that supports our people.” The Voice rattles out the practiced speech, aiming for an inspiring monologue that hints at a sketchy salesman pinch instead.

“If Mother and the tribe require the Ferrum seed then I will ensure it is collected. Will it be easy to find the darkness of the caves?”

“The seed is protected within the nestled roots of the Ferrum, it’s mystical shell will be a blaze, even in the Depths.” His eyes gleam with excitement, I have never seen the Voice reveal such a genuine expression, except anger.

A strange nagging feeling tickled my conscience, like noting a mistake by a teacher during a lecture but fearing to point it out and embarrassing an ‘expert’ in their field.

“I see the significant importance of the seed for future generations, however, this is the priority over saving the younglings lost in the apparently overexaggerated Depths of Death. Mother’s followers are her children, her power seeks to protect at all costs.”

“I know Mother’s desires more than most. She is nature and respects its systems, the loss of a few shorthorns is inevitable. The missed opportunity to harvest the Ferrum seed will save potentially thousands of Satyrs in the seasons to come.” He nods as I mull over his words, the harsh cruelty not lost on me but hard to swollen.

The Voice and therefore Mother can outline their goals for me but they can’t force my actions. I will save the kids and grab the rutting seed if I see it.

“I understand my Voice, I will complete the trial at once. Mother’s light will guide me and Cane through.” He patronisingly pats my head

“It will be enough to guide all of you.” He gestures to the surrounding masked Thorns as they rummage inside hemp sacks hanging on their persons.

“All of who?” I ask the silly question.

“This trial is far too important to Mother for just one man. The Thorns will embark with you into the Depths.”