The Satyrs say that when Uke the Saviour endured into his later years, that his heroism never ended. Even as his fur wilted and dulled of colour. And his sturdy back bowed and swayed in the winds.

His saplings cast shadows over his gaze, but his light always shone through. For when the scales of destiny tipped in favour of a consuming monster. Uke swallowed his pride, and buried his great axe, ‘Oak Breaker’. Gathered his finest warriors and told them. “A flower's beauty is enjoyed while it lasts. A Ferrum’s might will reach to the sky like a God, though time will bring it back to the dirt as worm food.

Our kind will not throw itself upon the blades of these creatures. For this moment is theirs and we shall endure it.”

He emptied his cities, abandoned their monuments and retreated into the wilds of Silva. For he knew when defeat was final, that is why he is called Uke the Saviour. Satyr's most famous legend ran to save his kind. He ran from Man.

My flock will be wiped away like old cobwebs by the She-goyle. Her armoured sides will stop any blade, even with my Will. A theory I decide not to test at this moment.

“Run!” I continue to scream.

I slash the chains connecting the three Satyrs and push them forward into a sprint.

The flock is ahead of me, I hope. It's difficult to do a head count with a flaming stone banshee aiming for your shrivelled balls.

At home in the bush, the Satyrs soon begin to disappear in the darkness as they outpace me. The glow of my blade winks out as Cane lopes beside me. He could easily leave us all behind, though I know my friend would rather be a meat shield for me.

Concentrating on the world around me so as not to trip, I can’t risk checking my pursuer's progress. Just keep going, just keep going, just keep going.

My eyes slowly adjust in the low moonlight, rays barely penetrating the canopy.

“Shepherd.” A voice shouts to me from nearby.

I almost missed it in my flight. Furry hands beckon me into a cracked trunk.

A vagabond tree. Mother, you glorious Goddess I wish I could kiss you.

We squeeze in like a poor family of Catholic rabbits in their burrow. Personal space is forgotten as the flock hunker down for the night. This must be the remains of a goliath for even Cane finds space. On a bed of fur and moss, I think of my last time in a vagabond tree with Piia. A whole lifetime ago.

The undulating screeches of the blood creatures signal the start of their nocturnal hunt. Good Uke to them I say. I hope they suck the woman out of her stone armour.

In the morning I venture out first, weapon ready. But no one greets me.

“It’s safe.” I call to the others.

“Cane, check the area. See if there are any signs of her. You two go with him.” I point to the oldest looking Satyrs. Probably 15 summers.

Cattle Senses

Chicken is wandering around outside, sniffing the air to find a hefty stench of sweaty odour. He’s nearby and Artur is with him. Little git ignored my command and left the hut.

To me, I command the Verox.

The Satyrs gather around me, they look spent and haggard but a twinkle of joy is in their eyes.

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“Thank you for saving us, Seth.” One says as they reach out to touch me. The whole smelly herd pushes in to show their appreciation.

“I’m just sorry for abandoning you to those slavers.” I turn to the young boy.

“And especially to you. I feel terrible for hitting you, but you understand why, right?”

“I do.” The lad says with a smile.

Chicken sprints through and does laps around me and Cane. Artur soon follows with Honey on his shoulder. The Satyrs grab a hold of one of their own. Embracing him tightly as if he were the one who walked into a trap.

Artur pulls on my trousers and rolls his hand in the air, motioning for me to explain.

“These lot can fill you in on your journey.” I take Honey off his shoulder and pump her for some much needed nutrients and energy. She squeezes out the lovely dew and then crawls up my arm. I half expect her to pull out a lute and break into song.

“Journey where?” A Satyr asks, breaking my Bukke dream aftershocks.

“To the Source. Mother spoke to me, she told me to bring you there. It’s the pastures the Voice spoke of in his prophecy. A new home, safe from the world of Man. But I won’t be going with you.”

Artur grabs onto my leg with worry.

“I can’t abandon the others, and you will only be a target in a city.” I look down at him, a horrible feeling of separation building in me as he cries. I kneel next to him and hug the youngling.

“This isn’t a goodbye, I will meet you there once I save the tribe.” We share a moment, our weeks of travel and time in the Depths make this departure more difficult than I thought. He’s a strong kid that I’ll sorely miss and worry for.

“Chicken will go with you. He’s only little but his senses will warn you of any threats.” I turn to the Verox.

“Guide and protect them. Then come find me.” I command.

I pass out the few pieces of armour and weapons I can spare to help them along their way. I hold onto the hardened leather and stiletto in case I need another disguise.

They depart towards the woods, soon disappearing into the green realm.

“Watch over them, Mother.”

I get ready to set off towards the Tower by donning my bear poncho and attaching my sword and whip to my tentacle belt. I intend to lope around it with a very wide berth and link back up with the road system and onto Yorkton.

Before that, I need to start paying off my debt. If only I could empower before diving into the twisted den that is human society. I need power and strength to face these wicked fiends. Deep inside me, the craving for the elixir whispers as well. I can almost feel the rush of my Godley vice. An idea jolts through me as my knees hit the ground.

“Omnia. I offer the souls of the slain. Please accept them as payment for empowerment.”

The wind dies.

“So clever he thinks he is. To trick the masters with a simple lie. The Aspirant must think we are a stupid people.” A raspy voice sneers from behind me. I look up to see I’m surrounded by three Reavers.

“Penance is owed and due.” Another says. Forming a spear in its outstretched hand.

I realised my mistake too late. Arrogant after saving the Satyrs from the Tower, I thought myself so great. A hero that finally wins.

“Wait, please. I need to empower to gather more spirit. Without it, I won’t survive. I’m too weak.” I plead.

“True words he finally speaks. The thirsting curse it shall be.” They madly burst out with cruel laughter.

What’s so funny?

A Reaver glides towards me, dismissing the spear and replacing it with a nasty cudgel made of dripping coral.

“Desires are the past, dependance is your present. Quench the curse with spirit or die.”

It smites me with the cudgel, scraping the leather off my arm and the skin along with it. Flinching away from the attack. I expect a harsh pain that never comes. My arm is bleached down one side, a bone white affliction dyes the limb.

“The Spirit’s you have acquired. Give them to us.” They unfold their spider crab arms to reveal the captured dugongs. I quickly emit the spirits from me, the flashing light spreads to each Reaver.

“Understand your place while you enjoy our gift.”

They vanish, the wind stirs and blows against me. My exposed arm feels nothing.

I’m dancing with death and my stupidity keeps stamping on its toes. No more bold moves.

A raspy whisper makes the hairs on my neck stand. “The secret of the Gods is not yours to tell. Omnia and Order are still sides of the coin. Think no differently than the other creatures, Aspirant.”

The Reavers watch from the ether, ever present. I shiver at the thought and stand.

Cane comforts me again as Honey crawls around my arm. Half her face is marked with the thirsting curse, the cudgel must have clipped her.

“My girl.” I cradle her in my arms and feel like muk.

So the truth is revealed, the Gods are false. The Reavers are the real puppet masters, manipulating the races to murder and collect spirit for them. Why did they let me live with this knowledge?

My marked arm answers me with an intense itch. I try to scratch it, but it’s under my skin. Small holes appear on the surface, like sunken dark pores. The disgusting flesh revolts me, the itch slowly subsides.

I quickly pull my ferrum armour from my inventory to cover the curse. Better a human notices the odd material than what lies underneath.

I look at what remains of my flock.

“Let's go save the others.”