“Hey, wake up. You can’t sleep at the bar.”

Luka’s eyes rolled in their sockets, his tears mingling with a wad of snot smeared across his face. The room spun as he tried to sit up, the edge of his vision patchy as if he had just stared at the sun. Then, something poked him hard in the lower back. He jerked alert, the cloudiness in his mind disappearing. A groan escaped his lips as he slid off the stool.

A dull ache spread from his butt down his thighs, his skin mottled with the pattern of woodgrain and splinters. His hand magnetically hovered to his face, and Luka felt a similar pattern imprinted across his cheek. He’d been using the bar as a pillow, a little pile of drool seeping down a crack confirmed the fact.

A dozen candles lit the room, each mounted on metal fasteners parallel to the dry, painted, but chipped walls. Luka stared at the orange flickering flame, finding the light source to bend along the wall’s uneven convex. The fire licked up the wooden wall, yet not so much as singeing it.

Was the wall actually metal and just painted—

A sharp pain drilled into his hip. He spun, finding a woman poking him with the stick-end of a broom.

“Uh, you can’t sleep here, Mister,” she said.

Flinching at the words, Luka expected to find… well… a human. Instead, a young woman with green skin and wicked tattoos stood before him.

He turned back to the candles, expecting to find some kind of flame-retardant coating… Green. Green. The word echoed in his head until his brain finally caught up. He looked back at her. Yup, she was green. He looked away again, then back. Still green.

“What—”

A flood of memories came back. The goddess, standing out in space watching the world spin, and hair, a lot of hair. But something was missing. Something crucial. The question crawled into his forethought from some dark, primal crevasse. Just who was he? Luka, obviously. But the goddess was right. His memories were gone, sealed away for some unknown reason.

A strand of hair invaded his sight. He batted it away, only for a second to join. Then a third, and a fourth. He rubbed his eyes, finding the strands to duplicate with every labored breath.

“Uh, Mister?” the green woman asked, her voice not reaching him.

Luka’s vision was entirely consumed by the hairs, and his heart beat wildly. Pain radiated from his chest, clutching, squeezing pain. His lungs, the strands filled them. Streaks of orange flickering light shone through fibers, darkness one step closer to fully taking over. His jaw chattered and his brain leapt into overdrive. He didn’t want to go back to the dark, he couldn’t go back—

The strands stopped growing, freezing in place. Then, like a cellar door opening, the hairs darted away like rats. They moved to the corners of his vision, hiding. A serene calm overcame him, one that reminded him of the goddess. His heart rate slowed, easing his breathing.

Luka focused on a single strand. It waved at him. “What in the world…” he muttered.

“Mister, do I need to call the Shaman?”

Shaman? Right, green girl—an orc apparently.

Slowly, he turned back to her. “Uh, what?”

She was a bit taller than Luka, but far, far more toned. She wore a sleeveless dark shirt, but stylized renditions of birds sitting on branches coated her arms and shoulders. They circled around her torso and neck, growing up to her ears. The tattoos moved, shimmering with reds and blues where flowers and feathers met.

She rolled her eyes at the question. “I know you humans don’t care for our customs, but the least you could do is act sober. A ‘shaman’ is equivalent to your human ‘healers.’” She paused a moment before adding, “How’d you even get in here?”

Luka reeled back. “Look, I don’t know—”

She tossed her hands up. “Franky! Can you deal with this guy? He’s stone-cold drunk!”

Following her eyes, Luka found a burly green man with muscles on top of muscles. They inflated like balloons, sculpting his body into hardened marble rather than jelly-like skin. A set of tusks jutted from his underbite, flicking out and ending just past his nostrils. A set of golden rings pierced through the ivory, jostling as he stepped over to the bar.

Luka threw his arms up, putting them before him and the brute—not that they’d stop him, or anything. “Wait just a second. I’m not drunk, I’m just confused. The goddess said something—”

He trailed off as the orc bodybuilder stood beside the orc aviary. They stared at him, he stared right back. For some reason, Luka couldn’t help but stare at the man’s head. He was bald, but his skin shined like an iridescent pearl. In fact, his skin was wrinkle free. The woman, on the other hand, had black braided hair that rested comfortably on her shoulder and callused skin.

“What’s this about a goddess? Which one?” the man, Franky, asked. His voice was as deep as raw iron and he slurred his S’s, the tusks making things difficult.

Luka hesitated to answer, he didn’t want to seem crazy. “I don’t know. There was a goddess. She was warm and bright.”

The orcs looked at each other, the woman asking, “Do you know where you are?”

“Not in Warsaw, I can tell you that,” he said, remembering the last bar he went to. It was new, chic, even. The staff kicked him out… but for what? Why’d they do that? The memories were right there, but the seal—the goddess didn’t want him to remember.

“Where’s that?”

“Poland.”

“And that?”

“Europe…”

“And where’s that?”

“T-the northern hemisphere,” Luka muttered, his heart sinking.

“Hemis-what?” Franky asked.

The woman’s eyes jumped open. “Oh! I think he’s a World Walker!”

The brute gasped, the sound echoing against the vaulted wooden ceiling. “That’d make sense! I knew I didn’t see him walk in!”

She nodded vigorously, her surprise fading, turning to tenderness. “What’s your name, friend?”

He didn’t want to answer. “Luka.”

“I’m Eve. And if I said I’m an orc from the village of Emberwood within the Kingdom of Embers on the continent of West Valadron on the surface of the great world, Zentarious, does that mean anything to you?”

Luka’s legs went soft, he fell onto the rough barstool.

Eve took that as answer enough. “Wow! A World Walker in the flesh! Never thought I’d meet one.”

Franky perked up. “He must be thirsty! I’ll get him a drink!”

He rushed behind the bar, sliding crates of empty bottles and mugs out of the way. At the bottom of a large stack, was a fresh case of brown, short barrels. Franky snatched one up and thrust his middle finger straight through the top. Beer spurted out, frothing around the rim. He then slammed it down in front of Luka, splashing him with an ice cold liquid.

Funny, Luka figured it’d be warm.

“One of our best, Mr. World Walker! Dwarven rock-beer!”

The mug-barrel looked fine enough, a bit heavy on the foam Luka thought, but the moment he decided a sip wouldn’t hurt, something in the back of his mind turned sour. The hoppy liquid glistened like greasy rotten cheese and smelled like it too. The foam bubbled like lye on soap scum, wafting chemicals into the air.

“Do you have any water?” he asked.

Franky darted down the bar to a large barrel. He dipped a fresh mug into it, spilling off the excess. Meanwhile, Eve snagged the beer and chugged half of it.

She slammed it down, smiling. “So sweet! Mr. Todd really got it right with this batch! Better than any authentic dwarven ale I’ve ever had!”

The smell disappeared, Luka noted. Franky presented him with the water, and he took a sip. Again, it was ice cold. Were the barrels insulated?

“Eve, you gonna share?” Franky asked, sliding a mug for himself. She poured him a quarter cup, getting a glare in response. She stuck out her tongue.

“Can—” The words died in Luka’s throat. He downed a few gulps of water. “Can you explain what’s going on?”

Again, Eve’s face turned soft. “Sounds like you died and Goddess Tippy reincarnated you here. It happens, not all that often, but it happens.”

Franky raised his mug. “You must have done something amazing in your last life! Only the greatest people get a chance to reincarnate with their memories!”

Luka knew his words were wrong. He didn’t have them all. He didn’t know anything about this supposed “amazing life.” He only felt guilty. Sorrow and guilt. He must’ve shown it.

“None of that matters though,” Eve quickly said. “What you did in your previous life already happened. But now, you’ve got to do something even better here!”

Looking up, Luka found her piercing blue eyes sparkling like an ocean.

Franky leaned onto the bar. “My sister’s right. Don’t dwell on… wherever you came from. Or your death, for that matter. That’s basic World Walker survival. As our dad used to say, ‘the past is for the dead and the nerds in libraries.’ And guess what? There’s not a single library in our village, and you’ve already died!”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He leaned back, laughing loudly.

Eve grabbed Luka’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He swayed a bit, but found his balance. “Come on,” she said, “let’s show you your new home!”

And just like that, Luka stepped into an entirely new world.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. While he didn’t think Emberwood “village” would have skyscrapers and highways, he figured there’d at least be electricity. Maybe even a car or two. Nope. There was none of that.

A road wound past the bar, disappearing into a forest of orange-leafed trees—emberwoods, he supposed. Tall, wilted grass grew between the dirt and gravel, creating thin valleys where carts or wagons left their tracks.

The buildings were sturdy, wide huts made of brick and mortar mixed with hand-sawed wooden slats and branches. Straw roofs rounded them off, each “shingle” woven together with what looked like animal hair. A few had chimneys, but none puffed smoke. The air was serene, with a perfect spring wind dancing through the trees. The smell of dried leaves and morning dew washed the village with a soft, familiar whisper.

Walking through the village street, Eve and Franky greeted everyone they passed. Eve’s warm smile was met with nods and early-morning tired waves, while Frankly’s toothy grin brought short bouts of conversation. The villagers, their skin tones ranging from muted green to faded apple-red, were mostly orcish—at least to Luka’s inexperienced eye. A few figures stood out, ones he didn’t think were orcs.

Orcs, he recognized, were all lean or buff, tattooed or pierced with rings and studded jewelry. The other, non-orc people were short, stout people with big bushy beards or average height humanoids made of sticks, twigs, and vines.

Luka kept his mouth closed as Franky and Eve led him toward a barn.

Instead of cars, wagons were hitched to monstrous wolves or emus, which Eve called dire-wolves and dire-emus. The beasts meandered about, licking up water from a perfectly clean trough or sunning themselves while their riders stacked wares or did business nearby. Luka watched a duo of emus peck at each other, stealing feathers and planting them within their own. The “winner” of the battle soon preened triumphantly over the other.

They entered the barn and found an open-air warehouse of dried straw and nesting. Dire-animals roamed around inside, grazing or sleeping while waiting for their riders. The wolves lounged on their bellies, sitting in a semicircle around a chewed side of… beef? Luka couldn’t recognize the food, he did count six separate horns, however.

“Know how to ride?” Franky asked, brushing the pelt of a great beast. It was nearly triple his size, and yet, the wolf’s leg drummed like an excited puppy when Franky petted an itchy spot.

Luka flinched at the question. “You want me to ride this thing?”

Frowning, he asked, “You don’t have beast-mounts on your world?”

“Not ones that could rip me in half.”

At his words, the wolves all turned their massive heads around, peering at him. Drops of spittle fell from the one Franky was brushing. It sniffed Luka, hot air flooding from its wide nostrils. Slowly, it opened its mouth, shreds of raw meat tucked in between its fangs. A deep red tongue rolled along its gums, savoring the taste.

Luka’s heart pounded as he took an involuntary step ba—it lunged! He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. Thick, smelly wetness engulfed him. The beast’s tongue slid from his torso up, slicking his face and waterlogging his hair. Then it licked again, and again.

“Aww! He likes you!” Eve sang, patting the wolf on the back.

With his hands up like a boxer, Luka tried to dodge the licks. He didn’t get very far, tripping over himself and falling on his butt. The wolf took advantage, pinning him to the ground only to continue the onslaught.

Franky pulled the snow white beast away by its fluffy fur.

“This here’s Leo,” he said, beaming . “And it looks like he’s chosen you as his person.” He turned to a shelf, rooting through leathers and straps. “I think I’ve got a training saddle down here…”

The wolf tried to lunge again, Eve stopped him with a lazy, outstretched hand, blocking the path to Luka. “Stay Leo. Stay. Good boy.”

“He chose me?” the World Walker asked, slicking his hand down his face, pulling away enough spit to wash a car with.

Eve answered, “Dire-beasts mark a person and stay with them until they can’t. I was starting to think poor Leo wouldn’t be able to mark someone before he became an adult-puppy. Lots of people’ve been leaving the village lately, kids and stuff, you know? And the ones that stayed are still too young.”

Franky popped up from the shelf. “That’s right! Always a shame when a dire doesn’t mark someone as an adult-puppy.”

Luka’s annoyance withered as he stared into Leo’s big, round eyes. “What’s an ‘adult-puppy?’”

“It’s orcish for a fully grown wolf, but still young.”

“And Leo is not an adult-puppy, meaning he’s still growing?”

Hearing his name, the wolf barked. It shook the walls of the barn.

Franky slipped a leather strap through a set of metal fasteners. “Leo’s the runt of the litter, yeah. Give him a few weeks and he’ll be as big as the others.”

“I’ll grab Sebby and Olive,” Eve said to her brother, stepping away.

“Why do I need a mount again?” Luka asked.

Tossing the saddle over Leo’s back, Franky pulled the straps tight then loosened them a notch. He wrapped a lead around his mane, connecting it on the other side.

“To show you the village, of course.”

“Didn’t we just walk through the village?”

Frankly blinked a few times. “Oh right, you’re not local. No, that wasn’t the village, they’re just the outlying buildings. An inn, a bar, a few shops. The main village is closer to the mine and quarry.” Leo whined as Franky tested the stirrups. He patted him gently. “I know boy, but he doesn’t know how to ride. You’ve got to help him out, and the saddle will make things more smooth.”

Leo’s slobbery face went stoic, and he nodded in understanding

Luka gawked at that. “He’s very intelligent.”

“Dires always are. Well, with a few exceptions. Olive isn’t the smartest bird in the shed, if you know what I mean.”

He, in fact, did not know what he meant. Animals understanding language enough to do simple commands was one thing, but nodding to a wordy comment? Luka decided to drop it. He was in another world, after all. A world with green and red people, and intelligent dire-wolfs.

He silently sighed and asked, “Why separate the village in two parts?”

Franky paused in adjusting straps. “Well, Emberwood used to be a big mining village. Emberore was a hot commodity here, literally. But the mine dried up and the cost to run the quarry for just stone wasn’t worth it. So they filled the quarry with water and tried to turn the land into a lake-side farmer’s paradise.”

He finished with the saddle and led Leo and Luka outside.

“This was when Eve and I were kids, mind you. So I’m a little fuzzy on all the details. But changing to agriculture removed most of the business. Miners just aren’t farmers. So most moved away. Some, like Mr. Todd, our boss, moved closer to the kingdom road to make some money.”

He patted Leo. “Enough about all that depressing stuff, hop on!”

Luka hesitated. He’d been horse riding back home as a kid a few times. He remembered riding rocky trails down and around a creek, stopping long enough for the horses to drink. How old was he back then? Nine? Ten? He remembered the family friend’s farm they’d visit. Whatever happened to the farm, he wondered. He couldn’t remember, it was a blur.

He squared up to Leo and set his hand on the beast’s soft white fur, stroking him gently. Leo leaned into his hand, bucking into Luka’s hand, scratching himself like a rhino against a tree.

“Down Leo,” Franky commanded.

The wolf dropped to his belly, two of his massive paws sticking out like a pair of loveseats. The stirrups rested at a comfortable height, allowing Luka to get one foot in. He pulled himself up and over the saddle, sitting. Leo didn’t wait for him to get comfortable. In an instant, the wolf got up, trotting outside—his rider wobbling and squeezing his legs for stability.

Luka never considered himself a fit person. A lifetime of doing… He paused, another memory gone. He strained, searching his mind for any clues. Sand flooded his memory, dunes that towered above buildings and far-off mountains dotted with cave entrances.

Why was he thinking of a desert?

“Watch out!”

Abruptly, the doorframe of the barn came into Luka’s view—he smashed his forehead into it. On top of Leo, he was far, far taller than normal. And between him and the beast, neither considered the fact. Luka did, however, have the forethought to clutch the saddle horn. The straps bent backward with him, Franky’s handywork keeping them attached to Leo.

“You okay?” Eve asked, appearing amidst a plumage of rainbow colored feathers.

“Yeah,” Luka muttered, rubbing his forehead. He looked down, finding Leo’s petrified face staring at him. “Not your fault bud. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Leo slowly thawed, carefully placing one paw before the other, ducking to clear the barn exit.

“Let me look at cha.” Franky adjusted a strap, tightening it back to normal. “You’re not bleeding. We can get our shaman to look at you if you want.”

Eve made a face.

“Don’t worry about me,” Luka said, “Just a bump.”

“Good! Because I’ve got some pointers. Ease your legs, don’t squeeze too much. Leo’s going to follow what you lead him to do, so make sure you’re decisive. Reins and legs work together.”

He gripped the reins, pressuring him with his left leg. Leo moved left, walking slowly around Eve. Then he nudged right, circling her, and pulling back gently to stop.

Leo barked once.

“Leo says ‘good job,’” Franky said.

“Did he? Could you actually understa—”

The tusked orc smirked. “Not at all! It’s more of a vibe, I guess you’d call it. Orcs and dire-beasts have a connection, we were the first to domesticate them way back when.”

Eve added, “But once you ride with Leo some, you’ll develop a shared bond. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could understand his barks.”

“Enough of that! Meet Sebby and Olive!”

Luka followed Franky’s pointed finger, finding a dire-wolf and dire-emu. Starting with Sebby, a solid black mass of fur sat patiently in the grass, watching the show with round yellow eyes. A sense of age lowered his ears and mellowed his face, masking a graying undercoat like a beard. He was bigger than Leo, trumping him in all but energy.

Eve sat on top of Olive the emu. With feathers as long as an orc forearm, the bird stood at the height of a one-story home. Colors polka dotted down her breast as she preened for Luka, hiking her folded wings out wide. A saddle more closely resembling a blanket, draped over her back, snuggly fitting along her puffy tail.

When Luka looked away, Olive lost her interest in him, finding intrigue in a patch of grass. She pecked at it, her long neck darting straight down like a viper.

“Olive!” Eve screeched, teasing the reins. “Back this way! We want to go over there! To talk to the World Walker! Please?”

The emu snapped her head up, gobbling a grasshopper like it was a jelly bean. She then sprinted back, despite being only a few steps away.

She then pecked Leo.

“Hey!” Eve yanked the reins. “We don’t peck friends! Remember Olive? Leo is a friend!”

She cowered back, dipping her head toward Leo, hooting two distinct syllables. The wolf gave her a lick.

“Wow,” was all Luka could say.

Olive’s eyes snapped to him, widening. She meandered closer, strutting her thin legs despite Eve’s attempts to stop her. She sneaked her long neck toward the World Walker, gently hissing. She reared back and— Eve yanked the reins at the same time she tried to peck Luka, missing wide. Leo jumped away, landing a few paces away.

“What did I just say, Olive!” Eve screamed.

Olive put her head down, muttering a string of bird noises.

The orc sighed. “You’re right. I did say not to peck friends. You don’t know Luka…” She had her palm pressed to her face. “Olive, meet Luka—our friend. And just to be clear for the future, do not peck anyone. You’re too strong to peck non-armored people. You’d hurt them.”

Olive made another sound.

“No! How’d you get that you can only peck armored people from that? Don’t peck anyone!”

Luka guided Leo back over, “It’s, uh, okay?” he said, not sure if it actually was.

Franky leaped onto Sebby, sitting bareback. He grabbed a tuft of fur at the base of Sebby’s nape, leading him over.

“Sebby, Luka. Luka, my mount, Sebby. Don’t peck him either, Seb.”

The black wolf leaned in close, letting out a tired growl.

Luka blinked a few times, a sense of… understanding crossing in the growl. “Yeah,” he said, “I’d be tired too if I had to deal with her all day.”

Sebby nodded his head, and together they looked at her. Olive was enthralled with the patch of grass again, oblivious.