We had to return home before sunset. The road was desolate—a lonely mountain path where countless unseen dangers might lie in wait. In the wild, among the shifting shadows, predators could easily be lurking.

  In my former world, another species vanished with each passing day. Yet here, the lands teemed with creatures of a richness long forgotten. In dark caverns dwelt sabre-toothed lions, bears striped like tigers, and many other perilous beings I had neither seen nor heard of before. Though I had not encountered them with my own eyes, I had learned of them through Daneel.

  I had no desire to meet such creatures. However fearsome they were, they rarely approached human settlements. According to Daneel, some hunters tracked them down and sold them, alive or dead. But such matters did not concern me now. What mattered was crossing the mountain road with the utmost caution.

  I turned to Arwa. After the long and exhausting journey, she seemed drained, her thoughts wandering elsewhere. Seeing her fatigue, I gathered all the baskets into one hand and extended my other arm in the hope of supporting her. When Arwa noticed, she gave a faint smile. We continued on our way, the steady tap of her walking stick marking our pace.

  Lost in thought, Arwa suddenly turned to me with a faintly mischievous smile.

  “My dear boy, did you like the girl I told you about? I’ve known her since she was a child. She would make you a good wife,” the old woman said.

  At her words, my heart began to pound wildly. Heat rose to my face, and I felt my cheeks flush. Arwa must have noticed the change in me, for she let out a knowing laugh, her wrinkled face twisting into a near-impish grin.

  “Arwa,” I muttered, grumbling softly, “as I said before, I am far too young to be thinking of marriage. Besides, Walma is several years older than I am—it would not be appropriate.”

  Arwa chuckled and shook her head. “Alek, you will soon grow into a man. Do you not wish for a wife to look after you? She may be a little older, but she is beautiful and capable. She will fill your belly and keep your home warm. There is no need to hurry—just consider my words,” she said, her eyes meeting mine with a depth of intimacy that unsettled me.

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  I had no wish to argue. Instead, I chose silence—for sometimes silence is the best answer. Sensing my reluctance, Arwa merely smiled as though victorious. Then, after a long pause, she began to sing in a voice softened by age, yet still carrying echoes of an old melody:

  “There was a shepherd’s son, like a shadow on the hill,

  One May morning he went out, to see what he might kill.”

  “And sing away the morning dew, the dew and the dew!

  Sing away the morning dew, how sweet the winds do blow!”

  “He looked up high, he looked down low, he looked once more again,

  And by the rushy brook he spied a fair and lovely maid.”

  “And sing away the morning dew, the dew and the dew!

  Sing away the morning dew, how sweet the winds do blow!”

  As Arwa’s song echoed in the cool evening air, the gentle whisper of the wind entwined with her voice, wrapping the moment in an otherworldly calm. Though her voice was fragile and slightly off-key, I wished that instant would never end. It was as though the earth itself were singing with her—there was something spellbinding about it.

  But no moment is destined to last forever.

  Without warning, Siri’s mechanical voice echoed coldly within my mind, slicing through the peace like a blade.

  “Unidentified entity approaching within one hundred metres. Insufficient data to determine classification. The entity may be dangerous. Immediate evacuation is recommended…”

  Yet for the first time, something felt different. Was I mistaken, or was there the faintest trace of concern beneath that usually unwavering tone?

  “One hundred metres ahead, an unidentified entity is advancing. Due to insufficient data, classification is impossible. Caution is advised: the entity may pose a threat. Immediate withdrawal is recommended…”

  Siri’s monotone reverberated through my thoughts—but this time, there was something else.

  A hint of urgency. An emotion I would never have expected to hear from a machine.

  I froze. My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, I turned my gaze towards the dimly lit trees in the distance.

  Then I saw it.

  A shadow moved between the trees—at first indistinct, like a ripple in the darkness. But it grew, taking on substance and form. The faint rustle of leaves was overshadowed by another sound—a low, muffled growl, like distant thunder rolling over the hills.

  Unaware, Arwa continued her song. The melody, once touched with joy, faltered slightly, a discordant note slipping into its rhythm. She must have sensed something as well.

  Then the fragile stillness shattered.

  Siri’s voice rang through my mind once more, colder than ever:

  “Entity of unknown origin now within approximately one hundred metres. Identification impossible due to incomplete data. However, the presence may constitute a significant threat. Immediate action advised…”

  For the first time, I detected something new in Siri’s voice—a tension, perhaps even a trace of alarm.

  And then, upon the jagged rock ahead, a shadow appeared—dark as the void, motionless as death.