Three hours in, and Tolly's feet were already swollen. For the last half, the two had been walking through thick deadfall, scattered trunks of fallen enik stalks strewn about the forest floor. Tolly guessed the height of the enik to be averaging ten metres, making the section of growth they walked through only around two weeks since it had experienced its last wildfire.

  Tolly stepped over a wide stalk without noticing what was behind it. Her running shoe came down into a pool of ashen mud, sucking the shoe right from her foot when she tried to tug it free. Her sock came down into the puddle next. She let out a long, belaboured sigh.

  “Need a hand?” Soren asked, following up behind her. It had been hours since he last spoke. Tolly had thought about striking up a conversation with him, but it had seemed like he was mulling things over. She had decided she better leave him to it.

  “Oh, yes. Thanks.” She proffered her hand to him, and he hoisted her out. The sock on her left foot disappeared into the mud. He picked her up in his arms. He was surprisingly strong and let her down on the nearest patch of wood that wasn't also coated in mud.

  “You stay here. I'll get your sock,” he said, and to Tolly's surprise, he flashed one of his trademark smiles.

  “You seem bright,” she said. In the back of her mind, all she could think was, he must still be in shock.

  “Thanks.” He offered back a soggy mud-covered sock. “I had some time to think. We are lucky, and that's saying something. I wouldn't be surprised if we were the last living humans on this rock. Makes you think, doesn't it?”

  That's– a surprisingly optimistic way to look at it, she supposed.

  “How's the head?” Tolly asked.

  “Oh, I'm sure it was just too much sun, like you said. I'll be fine. Hopefully, we can find some water soon. Or maybe something to eat.”

  Tolly's mouth was dry and cracked, and she found herself wishing she hadn't dumped out the last of her wine back near the cube.

  “Here,” she said as she sat down. She rifled through her pack and picked out a pair of apples, offering one to Soren.

  “Gods, thank you!” He sat down on a log opposite her. He took a large bite of his that made a satisfying thwack. He finished his apple far ahead of her, and Tolly offered him another.

  “This is the last one, you hear?”

  He nodded and made another crunch.

  “I really don't see why we've headed into the forest,” Soren said between bites. “From what I've seen about the land out here is that it's pockmarked with near-constant wildfires.”

  “That's mostly true, although the fires aren't as frequent as that. You could expect an area to not see a wildfire for up to a month on average in optimal conditions. It's the other things in the wilds that you have to work about.”

  “Sorry, but what can be worse than packs of rolling infernos that constantly roam around the continent, never fading.”

  “You make them sound like beasts,” she said, “Although it is true that the fires can often last for years, eventually they run themselves into a bottleneck or run to the edge of the continent, running out of fuel to burn.”

  “If that's the case, why doesn't someone just cut off the fire from the fuel source. Do a little preemptive burning?” he asked.

  “It's been tried. Not long after the first colony was founded here, controlled burns were attempted,” she said, remembering back to that particular lecture at the Academy. “Problem is the enik burns too uncontrollably, too quickly. Every attempt at a controlled burn ended up starting another wildfire.”

  He nodded. “And you say there's something worse out here?”

  “Sure is. The rain.”

  “Wait. It rains out here?” He looked puzzled. “Then why are there so many fires?”

  “As I said, enik burns uncontrollably. When a section of the forest goes up, it burns so hot that it dries out the surrounding area before reaching it. Hell, I've even seen fires go on burning in a full monsoon, to say nothing about a bit of light rain.”

  “And the rain’s a bad thing?”

  “With the rain, brings wet earth. And where there's wet earth, there's–”

  “Mudslides,” he said before she could finish. It felt evident that he was remembering some connection between her and a mudslide. She certainly was.

  “Then if that's not it, there are insects. Mostly Terran species that have adapted to the climate in unpredictable ways. Somehow the early colonists brought mosquitoes with them, likely by accident.”

  “Those hellspawn have made it to every world we've visited, one way or another,” he said, happy about the shift in subject.

  “Not like this, you don't. Without any natural or otherwise introduced predators, mosquitoes have grown. Some can get up to as thick as an apple. We have – had – protective electromagnetic fields preventing them from entering the cities and the valley, but there's no such protection out here. Even the firecrawler's had protection against them.”

  “Eesh, I wouldn't want to see what else this planet can think up.”

  “It's not all bad. Some of the insects that stowed away long ago turned into pretty marvellous things. The pond skimmers, an offshoot of the Terran dragonfly, are my particular favourite.”

  “So. Fires, floods, plagues of fruit-sized insects, what else do we have to look forward to?” he smiled, sardonically.

  “Starving. I've got a bit of sausage and some bread in my pack, but after that–”

  “Perfect.”

  Tolly nodded.

  “Where are we headed then? Surely there has to be a reason for heading into this place?”

  “Gods willing, we'll head along the mountain range to the south here,” she said, pointing at a marked spot on her terminal. “We can stick closer to the mountains, staying clear of the thicker woods to the north. Areas like that are more likely to burn. Then, we’ll pass back over the mountains here.”

  Her finger traced across the map, stopping at a point where the mountains seemed to split. Then, following on South, she tapped at a marker several kilometres past the mountains.

  “A day’s hike from the pass will lead us here, to Malfjordur Research Station. Be there any luck left in the world, there is where we'll find a ride out of here.”

  “Doesn't seem like we have any other choice, then. Sure, lead on, Captain.”

  “You and Blane had it tough growing up, eh. After your father left?” Soren asked after several hours of tight-roping through deadfall in silence.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tolly’s feet had finally dried, and she could feel the back of her neck burning. The section of forest they walked through had trunks that stretched nearly forty feet above the deadfall. Tolly knew that that meant this patch was overdue for its next blaze.

  “You hungry?” she asked, stopping to take a look at her tablet.

  “No,” he said, “still full up from those apples. I don't suppose you have some water hidden away in that sack?”

  “Not that lucky. Hadn't thought to bring any. Figures I remembered the wine, though.”

  He shrugged and leaned against a particularly gnarled tree. The trunk was twisted, having grown out of and around several layers of deadfall before it straightened out overhead. Soren knelt against the bark, Working his back up and down as he tried to catch an itch.

  “Need help?” she smiled.

  “Nope, just– got it! Bitch of a rash has been plaguing me since the sand.”

  He straightened. “You never did answer my question.”

  “Damn, still no signal. You’d think there'd be a beacon, a broadcast, an errant transponder out here, something.” Tolly looked up from her terminal, “Question?”

  “I asked,” he said, bending to scratch again. “I asked about your upbringing. Must've been hard, no?”

  “You asked about Blane,” she snorted. She knew he was trying, so she continued.

  “It was hard at times, sure. But Blane did all the heavy lifting. She was great that way, you know? She kept me clothed, fed, in school – a lot of good that did – she let me be a kid.”

  “I only knew her five days before, well… you know.” He paused, trying to steer the conversation away from that dark corner, “but I knew then that she was special.”

  “That's not the top of it. That woman would put the gods to shame. And to be honest, I'm sure she is right now, putting them to shame.”

  Soren chuckled.

  “I'm not kidding,” she continued, “Blane had a sort of steel heart. She was warm when she needed to be, but damn, was she hard. I couldn't get away with anything growing up with her.”

  “I saw the way she worked that poor girl at the cafe. What was her name?”

  “Lola?” She said uncomfortably loud. Realising she was likely dead now, she felt a tinge of guilt at the back of her throat.

  “Yeah, her. Poor Lola,” Soren seemed to be thinking the same thing.

  He scratched his back on the bark again. Tolly realised that this was the first good look she had at him since yesterday in The Elysees. His hair was ruffled with what looked like a grease stain. The torn naval jacket, once pearl-white, was now blood-stained and slung over one shoulder.

  Trousers, shredded halfway down his calf, must've caught on a branch miles back; the bloody scab underneath was long since dried. His sole was missing on his right boot, giving the impression that his boots of choice were more ceremonial than they were practical.

  Come to think of it, she wasn't much better off. Her torn, blood-soaked shirt had been baked in the late afternoon sun, itching her skin as she walked. It was obvious to her that she would have to ditch it soon. Soren noticed her admiring her own shirt and tossed his jacket over to her.

  “Here,” he said, “it's a bit dirty, but it'll do better than what you have on.”

  He turned and headed several metres away to relieve himself. Tolly slipped off her top, discarding it into the deadfall before putting on the jacket. It was warmer than it should be for a planet with a high average temperature like Bordeaux.

  “You wear this thing on purpose?” she said, squirming in the heat.

  “You'll get used to it. Besides, that jacket has seen me through a lot,” he said as he walked back after rubbing up against another trunk.

  “Gods’ sake. You can't be that itchy. lift your shirt, let me see.”

  He raised an eyebrow before capitulating.

  “Well,” she began with a cringe, “it's not terrible.”

  He dropped his shirt with a startle.

  “Not terrible?”

  She shrugged.

  “It's infected. Your rash, I mean.”

  “A rash? Is it bad?”

  “No, but you really should stop making friends with the woods before you break the skin.”

  He nodded.

  “And–” she said, reaching into her bag, “sorry, but it looks like I'm out of antibiotics.”

  “Well, I'm sure Malfjordur will have something,” he said, shrugging it off.

  A blip sounded on Tolly's terminal.

  “Hold on, what's that?” Soren asked.

  “It's faint, but I think it's a distress blast,” she said. The signal pulse lasted for only a few seconds before fading. Tolly tapped on the spot on a map where it had been to mark its location.

  “That's just west of here,” Soren said, pointing at the screen.

  “Yeah. It looks to be just four kilometres out. Should we check it out?”

  “Malfjordur’s due south,” he rebutted.

  “True. But there's no one else around. Someone could be hurt. If we don't check it out, likely no one will,” Tolly argued.

  He put up a half-hearted fight before giving in. The two set off west into the deeper forest. Tolly knew that the further they were from the mountains, the further away from safety they were, at least in respect to the fires. But, like she said, if they didn't help, who would?

  Several kilometres after the pair veered northwards, they came across a glacial lake. They walked eastwards on the water's edge, heading still north, guided only by gaps in the trees and the occasional blip from Tolly's terminal. Just on the outside of a clearing, Soren stopped Tolly, a firm grip on her shoulder partially compressing her collar bone.

  “Stop,” he said, “Hear that?”

  Tolly listened. There were the sounds of insects, their wings beating as they whisked by. The waters of the lake calmly wrapped on the shoreline. Wind rustled the enik fronds, but nothing else.

  “No,” she said.

  “Listen. Really, listen.”

  Between gusts of wind, when the leaves were granted a few seconds of respite, there was a noise. A faint whisper of a wail seemed to echo through the trunks. It was a boy, calling for help, screaming as if he were in some sort of agony. Tolly tried moving towards the sound as Soren's grip tightened.

  “We don't know what it is. We can't go running after it.”

  “Sure, but what if someone needs help. Delaying will only make it worse for them. You heard it, I heard it. Means someone else or something else will have heard it too.”

  “I won't let you. Blane wouldn't have let you.”

  “Blane's not here,” she growled, prying at his hand. “Now, let me go!”

  She broke free and stumbled ahead and out of the clearing.

  “Tolly, wait!” Soren called, rushing after her.

  As they neared the sound, it grew louder. The cries were from an adolescent human, Tolly was sure. She was also convinced that whoever this person was would soon alert the whole forest to their whereabouts.

  “Hurry!” She called to Soren, “if we don't shut down that noise, someone else will!”

  The pair crashed out of the trees into view of the wailer, and Tolly recognized him immediately.

  “Connor!” she rushed over to find him clutching his ankle.

  “Tolly, oh thank gods. Tolly!” he screeched.

  “Connor, how the hell?”

  He was filthy, covered in ash and bits of frond. Tolly looked over at Soren, who had an aghast look on his face. Soren pointed up, directing her attention to the broken fronds above them. Somehow Connor had fallen through the canopy several metres above and lived. She didn't have to touch it to know that his ankle was broken. Although there was no bone protruding through the skin, the whole area had turned a shade of purple.

  “Connor,” she said, kneeling beside him, “Connor, I have to reset the bone.”

  Connor looked at her, agony still reigning on his face. With his teeth clenched, he gave her his nod of approval.

  “Soren, come here. I need you to hold his leg.”

  Soren stood in mild shock, staring at Connor, a boy he had just met for the first time.

  “Soren, Connor. Connor, Soren,” she said, “now, get over here.”

  Soren and Tolly held Connor still while Tolly forced his ankle back into place. She had to shove several times and had started to worry she was doing more damage than good. But finally, with a loud pop, the bone righted itself. Just as the bone popped in, Connor passed out from the pain.

  “Right– now what?” Soren sighed and took a seat in the dirt.

  “I– I don't know,” she admitted.

  “He's better off than the Ensign, but–”

  “Stow it! There will be no more killing here,” she said, anticipating his next thought.

  “He's going to slow us down.”

  Soren was only being frank, and she knew that. She could understand that. With all they had been through in the last few days, it was easy to take it all in, to become the violence. She shuddered at the thought.

  “Let him,” she said, “let him slow us down. He's family. He's the only family I have left. I thought I'd lost him with Blane, and here he is deep in the woods. It can't be a coincidence.”

  “You're right.”

  Tolly looked at Soren, confused. He continued.

  “You're right that it can't be a coincidence. You're right that this kid showing up here is out of the ordinary. Look up. Do you see those bent fronds, those broken bows? How did he start up there and end up all the way down here?”

  “He wouldn't have jumped..” Tolly said, matter-of-fact.

  “He wouldn't have jumped,” he affirmed. “Then why, how?”

  “He was chased?”

  “He was chased!” he said. “He was hunted, more like. And by what, you ask? The very same monsters that led us out here.”

  Soren tossed his arms in the air, exhausted by his own words.

  “If he was chased, then they know he's down here,” Tolly said, finally following.

  “Which means they are on their way as we stand around their afternoon meal.”

  He stood, ready to leave.

  “We can't just leave him here.”

  Tolly felt as if she was torn between two widening trunks, each growing in an opposite direction. She could feel an all too familiar indecision welling up in her, grounding her next to her friend. She tried to stand but just couldn't leave.

  “I– Soren, I can't.”

  He looked down at her, obfuscated by her denial. She could see the same indecision pooling behind his eyes. She wondered if it was a promise – spoken or not – he made to her sister or whether it was due to a more vague sense of duty. Either way, he knelt beside Connor.

  Without a word, Soren hoisted the broken Connor across his shoulders.

  “Come on then,” he said to her.