I wake up with pain. My forearm throbs from the laceration. My stomach growls with emptiness. My body aches from awkwardly supporting Piia.

I smile with joy.

We survived such an ordeal, I’m now seeing the world through a lens of gratitude. Our treehouse fills with the morning light through gaps in the trunk overhead. I roll over to find Piia missing, her shape still embedded, like a mould in the moss bed.

I thank Mother for providing shelter, the atheist in me died yesterday, before crawling out of the small hole in the side. The outside world has returned to the beautiful forest I first discovered, all fears of the unknown evaporating with the morning radiance.

Piia is leaning against a large root, rubbing what looks like colourful dirt into her wounded leg.

“Bright morning to you Seth.” She speaks softly while chewing on something.

“Piia! You can talk again! Holy green Mother, this is amazing. I have so many questions.” I yell with joy.

She wraps her hands around her throat and mockingly strangles herself.

“Wow, you have a dark humour. Did you just recover in the night?”

She picks up and presents me a mass of moist pulp, bright orange and Mother’s glow mixed in with the mostly green-brown that made up the bolus.

Littered around her were petals from a magnolia-like flower and strips of mossy bark.

Piia follows my eyes and points back at the treehouse.

The wall of moss has bloomed with the tangerine magnolias overnight, creating an incredible floral display. I’m almost certain they weren’t there when we first arrived.

“Order and Chaos empower their subjects. Mother provides and protects her own. Just as she showed me the vagabond tree in the dark, she provided the Sana flowers and the bark wrap.”

Sign me up at the nearest church, this is a God I can worship.

Piia beckons me over and applies the bolus to my arm. The wound cools with the Sana’s properties rapidly taking effect.

“A ‘vagabond’ tree. Is travel common through Silva?” After yesterday, I can’t imagine many would venture through.

“Only those with the knowledge and who consecrate Mother’s way. The vagabond tree is her creation, for even she can not protect her followers who venture at night. Nature will take its course.” She states with a warning.

I ponder her words, imagining wandering through the forest alone at night.

Would Mother provide clairvoyance to guide me safely?

I’m not sure being human allows me to become a follower.

“How would I find Sana flowers and ‘bark wrap’?” These could be life saving lessons.

“The Sana flower is a rare blessing of Mothers, she only provides it to her most faithful and wounded people. It can heal the most grievous injuries. Like the innocence of youth, they blossom quickly before dying in our brutal world.” She indicates back at the tree.

I look over and see the flowers beginning to wilt. What a waste, if only they could plant them near their tribe or find a method to store them.

“The bark wrap is more numerous in Silva, it works similar to a scab and brings relief to pain. It is quite tough so you will have to chew it into a form that you can work with. Try it.” Piia continues with her lesson and hands me a piece of bark and petal to chew on.

I place the petal in my mouth first, it fizzes and has a slight sweetness, could be a pleasant treat in the forest if it wasn’t so rare. The bark is next, very tough at first until the mossy coating and my saliva mix in with each chew. I eventually spit out the bolus onto my hand and Piia inspects my work.

“You chose good ratios, that amount of bark wrap will form solidly and a single petal is more than enough to heal your whole arm.” She smiles at my progress. I smile back at her, this world isn’t so bad. Sure they have Daemons, but the magic brings everything back to a happy medium.

I begin to apply the bolus to my arm, I feel only the slightest pain before the numbing properties kick in. After being educated from a young age about the dangers of infection, the idea of rubbing unsterilised material into an open wound should seem so wrong.

But with Piia’s confidence and guidance, I am not even anxious about the matter. The pulp starts to harden in the open air. I move my arm around to check the flexibility of the dressing, it stretches with the movement and doesn’t crack or break.

I hold the remaining bolus before me, this stuff is incredible.

Piia points at the mixture.

“We call it a healing salve, it used to be our main trading product with humans.” She says this with some sadness. I have an inkling this is a touchy subject, I want to keep the positive morning vibes going.

“Well this is a wondrous product to have. We should take a batch with us, considering how often we are thrust into danger.” At least I know imp testicles aren’t used in this world’s healing potions.

“I wish we could, the bolus loses Mother’s glow as fast as the Sana wilts, and with it the healing properties. You need a special preserving oil that we purchased from human traders.” Well that is a shame.

“So do know if humans have their own healing products now?” I ask hoping a quick heal remedy can be easy to buy.

“Not that I know of, they used to buy our salves for incredible prices. It must have been in high demand.”

“Well they are fools for breaking your alliance.” She smiles at the comment.

“They are fools aren’t they, I hear they tried to harvest the materials to make it themselves. But they couldn’t even get a handful of bark wrap without dying, stupid hairless creatures. No insult to you Seth.”

“That’s fine, we are rather hairless in comparison. I thought you said there was plenty of bark wrap in Silva. How hard can it be in this endless forest?” I ask with interest.

“The right tree is easy to find, look for the leaf with a long dark stripe. Then look for Mother’s glow amongst the moss on the bark.” She points towards a tree near us, I can see each leaf has the stripe she speaks of. The trunk is covered in long trails of dark green moss with bioluminescence shining throughout, like a starry night sky. Patches of bark have been stripped away by Piia.

“Now what the humans never learnt to recognise is the Esca. Can you see it?” She now points to another tree, roughly ten feet away from us. This one has the same leaf stripe and glowing mossy trails on the bark.

“Esca? I don’t see any difference.” I say with confusion.

Piia giggles and picks up a small stone and hands it to me.

“You have good aim, but poor eyes, like most of your kind. Look in the centre of the trunk, amongst Mother’s glow there are eight lights sitting in pairs. Each pair forms the corners of a square.” I concentrate on the lights seeing no patterns or shapes amongst the random spread.

Thinking about an optical illusion book I got for Christmas, you had to look at the entire pattern to see the hidden shapes. I applied this technique now and didn’t focus on one particular area of the tree. After a short time, a square appears smack bang in the middle, just like Piia said.

“Oh I see the square, I would never have noticed without you pointing it out.” I say with the triumph of solving the riddle. What fun knowledge of survival will I learn from this lesson, I wonder.

“Prove it, hit the square with the stone.” She says with mischief in her eyes.

I line up my target and huss the stone, my aim is true and I hit the shape dead centre.

A cracking sound follows.

Large fingers unleash from the trunk and mesh together, catching the stone before it rebounds away. The creature, completely camouflaged before, now resembles two symmetrical hands, with six fingers each, intertwining with no hope of escape.

I’m left horrified, that was not a fun lesson. Goodbye positive morning vibes.

Piia hysterically laughs at my expression. “Welcome to Silva.” She says.

“Are you kidding me? I walked past so many trees yesterday. We could have been caught and -” My brain imagines the long brown fingers closing around my body, pinning me to the tree. Could I brute force my way out? How does it consume its prey? I don’t want to think about these questions, but my mind betrays me with curiosity.

“Once caught, no man or animal is strong enough to fight its embrace. Even Guardians.” I feel sick and begin dry heaving on an empty stomach.

More cracking sounds begin again. The Esca unfurls at the realisation it has no quarry, this time. The long fingers pull away then bend, hyperextending themselves to clasp back onto the tree, fitting into deep grooves that render them invisible.

As the fingers pull apart, it reveals another horror that will fuel my nightmares for decades.

A crack in the bark that splits the square has opened up and protruding out is a thick worm creature with a circular mouth of layer serrated teeth. The slimy terror retracts back into the dark gap that closes behind. Instantly the tree resembles its surrounding neighbours.

The trap is set.

I look at Piia, her expression reflects my own. “Mother’s muk, I’ve never seen or heard of what lies inside the Esca.” She says.

“Thank you for showing me what to look for. I can think of a thousand ways I'd rather die.” My stomach cramps from hunger. I do have bear meat, though I still feel nauseous from what I’ve just witnessed. Maybe Piia is hungry.

“Do you eat meat?” I ask while retrieving the slab from my inventory. The horror leaves Piia’s eyes and they turn ravenous, locking onto the chunk of the bear I’m holding. Her quick change in nature reminds me that she grew up in this tough world. There could be a predator behind every tree, or on them. I should eat when I can, to give me the energy I need to survive.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“There are lots you will learn about Satyrs, for instance, we eat meat like humans. Cooked and seasoned. This was provided by a Guardian and we should thank our Mother so.” We both silently give our respects for breakfast.

“A ‘Guardian”? They’re called bears where I’m from. It looked ready to gut us both if I'm being honest.”

I remember the bear's rage and fury for all life at that moment.

I should be thanking Ramhead as well, for indirectly saving us from becoming the bear’s breakfast, but screw that guy.

“Bears are common in Silva, the differences you saw in the Guardian, more arms, giant frame, these are Mothers doing. They’re our champions… mostly. I could see death in its eyes, they have never been hostile to Satyr before.”

Worry creeps over her like a cloud covering the sun. Doubt in their Guardians is something new. I recall the great beast’s burning eyes.

“Did you see its red eyes? It seemed completely mad.” I point out to reassure Piia of her lost faith.

“Yes I did, that’s not normal. All of Mother’s creatures have emerald eyes, especially her Guardians.” Piia ponders this for a while.

“Maybe it just lost the plot?”

“The ‘plot’. Guardians don’t own plots of land. Everything that the green glow touches belongs to Mother.”

“No, I mean it’s mind. It went crazy - insane.” I’ll have to consider my references or sayings in the future.

“Guardian's vigour stays true throughout their lives, even at the end. They have been known to live for generations. This one had been tainted by evil, it was corrupted.”

“Could be the Daemons. Awful plan if they got torn apart anyway.”

Piia begins to cry.

“This is a bad sign Seth” Piia snivels out.

“Look Piia, Mother protects you and your kind in the forest and she will continue to do so.” I rub her hand reassuringly, the emotion and fatigue catching up to her.

“You don’t understand Seth. It’s not just the mad Guardian or humans venturing deeper into Silva, we are falling out of Mother’s blessing. We’ve lost so many… I’ve lost everyone I loved.” Her tears flow freely with the words.

“But what about your tribe? Your people? We are travelling to them.” I say with concern.

“My tribe has been decimated over these past years. Order and Mother were close allies, but something has changed. Humans who we once traded with, began kidnapping Satyr and hunting beings of Mother.” Whatever front of fortitude Piia possessed before, crumbles away to reveal a scared young Satyr.

“Why would humans turn on their allies so dramatically? Did something drastic happen between your people?”

“Nothing, we did nothing. You're the human Seth, why would your kind betray or hunt us?” Piia says with accusation. I need her to see me as different from those barbarians. But why would the humans hunt the Satyr, I wonder.

Possibly for sport or territory. I doubt they would flourish in such a harsh environment. Maybe the Satyr possess something of value to them. Or perhaps it’s simply a religious matter, those under Order see Mother’s worshippers as heretics or pagans.

“Piia, I promise you I will help your tribe. I could make contact with the humans, to understand what caused them to break that alliance you once had. This could be why Mother brought me here, to help your people Piia.” I reassure my friend and start to comprehend my own words.

This might not be nonsense I'm spouting, I met her as soon as I landed in this world. Is this some bizarre godly act? I was only going along with the prophecy to save my sorry ass originally, however the pieces fit and make sense.

I’m Mother’s Shepherd.

Holy Mary and Joseph, am I Jesus?

I need to try and turn water leaves into wine leaves. No this is stupid, I am just a man that was brought here to help the Satyrs from being wiped out by these fiendish humans.

Piia looks at me with moist eyes, no longer crying.

“The coming of the Shepherd was foretold. They will lead us back to Mother and save our people.”

“Do you truly believe in this prophecy?” I ask.

Piia’s face lights up with a genuine smile. At least this subject cheers her up.

“We all believe it, we have nothing else.” She says, that is concerning.

“Who spoke of this ‘prophecy’?”

“It was Mother’s Voice.”

“So Mother talks to you, could you ask her about the humans?” An omniscient God that answers questions, sounds like this world's equivalent of a search engine.

“No Mother’s Voice is a title, held by an elder that communicates with Mother using Satyr magic. They guide the tribe in her fashion.” Sounds like a shaman or priest.

“And this ‘Mother’s Voice’ elder, are their foretellings and decisions usually accurate or helpful? Do they have an idea about why the tribe is falling out of Mother’s blessing as you say?” As I ask the question, Piia's smile falters.

“The current ‘Mother’s Voice’ is quite new to the role. He’s…” Piia considers her words.

“He’s what?” I ask.

“Seth you must understand Mother’s Voice is a position of respect and authority in the tribe and the elder appointed must be treated so, however he’s different.” She looks around the trees as if checking for listening ears.

I don’t say anything, hoping for Piia to fill that silence like a human would. It doesn’t take long, we have similar social behaviours.

“He isn’t like our Voices of old, he has strange sayings and tendencies for Satyr. He makes demands in the name of Mother.” As she speaks the last words, Piias eyes fall to the ground with shame.

“How Piia?” I try to make eye contact, but she avoids me.

“Piia what is he doing?” I push the matter.

“You are not of the tribe Seth. We have been through many woes in recent seasons and Mother provided a Voice for a reason. We should not speak ill of her decision or her choices.” She snaps the last words at me.

“Then at least explain to me why you appointed him in the first place. If I'm going to help, I need to understand where your people stand, how they think.”

“We have always chosen the oldest amongst us for the position. The new Voice comes from another tribe, found deeper in Silva. He said Mother spoke to him and told him that he could help us through our trying times. Our tribe is made up of young Satyrs now, the humans have hunted our eldest, leaving only the young behind. The Voice arrived in our darkest moment when our previous leader was taken.” she says with conflicting emotions.

There is something strange going on with this fella that she won’t talk about, however I shouldn't dive into their internal politics. I’ll let the matter drop for now, at least until I meet him. He did foretell my coming so he can’t be completely useless.

“We should cook this meat and head out.” I say reluctantly.

“Agreed, we should skewer a small amount over a fire and be quick about it. The smells will attract unwanted attention.” Her words concern me.

“Attention, from what exactly? Predators?” I feel the hilt of my new blade.

“Cooking flesh wafts on the wind Seth. I would avoid it if I could rely on Mother’s provisions. Which I cannot these days and I’m famished.” I nod in agreement. I’ve only eaten water leaves since arriving. Which, I assume like celery, consumes more calories than provided.

Piia, now covered in hardened healing salve, goes about collecting dry wood in the vicinity. I assist her, working in silence, until we have collected a small pile.

The Satyr rummages through the grass, pulling back clumps and lifting individual blades while keeping her distance from the Esca. “Are you looking for more kindling?” I ask, belly rumbling aggressively. She holds up a flat palm to me and keeps searching. I’ll be patient and observe, which is difficult when you’re starving.

Eventually finding her quarry, she lifts a hard black ball very slowly off the ground. I walk over to inspect her find.

“Careful human, we don’t alarm the Pyhera until we need to.” She says while carefully moving towards our small campfire. The Pyhera looks like a segmented sphere of black coral, with orange spots on each segment. As Piia approaches the kindling, the sphere unravels revealing an alien creature.

I suppose in this world I’m an alien, but my brain hasn’t accepted that I'm not standing on Earth just yet.

The creature's long snout resembles an anteater with long cat-like whiskers or antennae sprouting out from under the coral shell and covering all 360 degrees. When unfurled it fits perfectly on Piia’s hand, now searching the edges of this fleshy cliff with snout and whiskers.

I peek under the shell, the light orange underbelly resembles an ancient tortoise's neck, very wrinkly. I can’t see any moving legs or limbs.

“I’ve never seen a Pyhera before, can I hold it?” I ask like a child wanting to hold the new family dog and not some alien armadillo.

“No. Now stand back, this is dangerous.” I grudgingly moved back. Once I’m a safe distance away, Piia slowly moves to the assembled wood pile and starts shaking her hand containing the critter. It forms back into a defensive ball and Piia launches it towards the wood like a baseball pitcher.

A trail of smoke marks the path of the Pyhera, it crashes into the wood and fire erupts.

I jump back at the sudden combustion.

“Holy hell fire, what just happened?”

“Pyhera’s shells start fires when they’re aggravated.” I understand why she wanted me to step back now.

“Isn’t the shell protection enough?”

“Not from some of the dangers of Silva.” She explains.

“Did your tribe teach you how to survive in Silva? I mean out in the deep woods like now.”

"Yes, the tribe has lived here for generations. You see some Satyrs live in grasslands and even the mountains. Our young are taught skills and knowledge they'll need to survive." Piia says with a renewed positive attitude, she's proud of her people's way. The small fire blazes before us, the pleasant smell of burning wood fills the air.

"I would love to learn those skills. Being able to live out here would be incredible. I spent my whole life living in cities, the only things we get taught are how to earn and spend money. A real emphasis on the spending part."

“Well considering you're a hairless man, shelter and fire should be a priority. Finding a vagabond tree can be difficult without Mother’s guidance, so start by getting into her good graces” - She says with a wink. - “Fire is easy enough with all the dry wood on the forest floor. Searching for Pyhera is the challenge.

They like to hide in moist under bush or rotting wood. Sometimes you can see steam coming from a log, that will mean several are in there.”

She seems to enjoy lecturing a human.

“Once you have found a Pyhera, very slowly pick them up, without disturbing the sensory hairs sticking out their shells. If they start to smoke or feel hot, just place them back down. Setting on fire is a last resort for them. Another method is to shepherd one towards your firewood.” She says this with a cheeky grin.

I kiss my teeth at the joke. Piia breaks into her infectious laugh. I knew it, it is the same as rolling your eyes.

“You learn fast, maybe you will survive my home.”

I take the bear meat out ready to cook. Unfortunately the loot system hasn’t prepared the meat in bite sized chunks or a tasty season, don’t look a gift bear in the mouth.

The only blade we have is the sword, at least it’s not covered in blood.

It takes a few minutes to slice the meat as the blade isn’t very sharp. We make a few skewers with sticks and place them over the fire, storing the remaining slices for another dinner.

I inspect the blade while the meat cooks, my eyes returning to the strange symbol on the pommel.

“Piia, do you know anything about this symbol?” I hand her the blade. She stares at it for some time before shaking her head.

“Daemons were always part of the scary stories we were told as children around the campfire. Our elders taught us to fear their wrath, though my people have had very few encounters with them. I know little of their culture.” She says while passing the sword back to me.

“What do you know?” Those horrors intrigue me, I must be very unlucky to meet them on my first day in this world.

“They’re an uncivilised race. They are meant to have no arts, which makes that symbol very strange. Their only culture is war, which they mostly enact amongst themselves. I have never heard of them organising between their kind like we witnessed yesterday.” She says this with worry.

“I heard one of the imps call the tall Daemon ‘Opio’, then I looted an Opio pendant from his body.” I retrieve the pendant from my storage and hold the gunmetal jewellery out for her to see. Piia warily stares at me holding the dangling pendant.

“What’s wrong? Have you seen this before?” I ask, feeling a little self-conscious of her intense look.

“You can understand the Daemons? How?” Piia yells the question.

I hadn’t even considered the question. I understand Piia perfectly and she’s Satyr. Another mythical creature from a story, therefore understanding a Daemon isn’t that alarming to me.

“Answer me Seth.” Bitter mistrust was evident on her tongue.

“I’m not sure, I don’t even know how I can understand you.” I truthfully admit.

“We are speaking Silvic, that’s how. Not that Daemon poison they spit with corrupt tongues.”

“It must be an ability I got, a power from becoming a Shepherd. I would need to communicate with all manner of life to create my flock.”

“You would have Daemons in your flock?”

“That’s not what I mean. I am just saying the class gave me gifts and knowledge. Like reading the runes.” I was chatting rubbish now. I knew the Shepherd class only allowed me to tame cattle.

“How is it we spoke before you gained your class then?” She interrogated further.

“My people call it English, yours call it Silvic. They must be the same.”

Piia seemed sceptical of my poor argument.

“Piia I have never seen a Daemon until today, you saw that four-eyed bastard try to slash my throat out.” I reasoned with false confidence. She eventually let out a sigh and took the pendant from my hand.

“These are very bad signs, just seeing Daemons deep in Silva must mean something. Maybe Mother’s Voice will know. He is from another tribe.” I’m sceptical of him, however Piia has a point. He may have experience with them.

Piia picks up a partially charred skewer and bites into the meat, juices dribble down her chin. The smells were tantalising to my empty stomach, my mouth salivating with anticipation.

“They’re done and delicious. We should eat these on the trek. The smell of fire and meat might have already caught something's attention.” I grab three skewers for myself and finish one before I’ve fully stood up. Piia stamps on the fire and points to the remaining ashes and embers.

“Piss on that human, I know your kind likes to mark their territory.” She says with more humour in her eye.

“When you put it like that it seems rude, isn’t this Mother’s territory? I want to be in her good graces, remember?”

“I saw you piss against several trees yesterday without hesitation and Mother would prefer her forest not to burn down. I can look away if you’re shy.” She says and turns off, beginning her march back to the highway of Daemon blood and destruction.

“Just watch for Esca.” She shouts back to me.

I quickly go about my business, not wanting to be left behind. Then an idea forms. Looking over my shoulder towards the vagabond tree, I see all the Sana flowers have wilted and died, except one. I jog over and pluck it off the trunk, inspecting its beautiful petals I think to myself, ‘Loot’. The flower disappears. I look around the glowing forest.

“Thank you Mother.”

I rush after my new Satyr friend.