[...a long, long time ago...]

The land stretched before him like a blanket of pure white. The wasteland. The boy stood at the very southern edge of the only inhabitable area for miles. All that lay before him was a great frozen emptiness.

Nothing but white as far as he could see, and more snow falling even as he watched.

He knew he was a fool for being here.. for even attempting to cross the wasteland alone. But he had no choice. There was no one left... nothing remained behind him but the ghosts of his ancestors... which now included his parents.

How long ago had it been? How long sine he accompanied his father and the other hunters into the wild, and struck the killing blow that brought down the great mammoth. Everything had happened so fast after that. He had proven himself worthy of the Manhood Rite, and the elders had sent him alone into the wild with nothing but furs, a tent and a spear. It was the same for all young boys when they came of age. When he returned a week later there was supposed to have been a celebration. Instead, there was horror.

Everyone was dead. Their bodies strewn about like dolls. Most were burned beyond recognition along with their homes and belongings. Some had been torn apart. Others tortured to death. He found his parents in bloody pieces outside their simple home. The expressions frozen on their dismembered faces told it all... they had been very much alive when the mutilations began.

His father, the noble man who'd taught him to hunt, and to fight savagely with both spear and staff... the boy didn't even find all of his body. Just a few pieces. Pieces frozen in the snow.

The boy assumed it must have happened just after he left for the Rite. The heavy snows since then had obliterated any tracks or traces of the monsters who could have done it.

And then there were the children. He didn't find any trace of the village's children. They were gone. Some of them had been his friends, just a few years younger. Now they were missing.

All the villages he had come to since had met the same fate as his own. The buildings burned. The men and women slaughtered. The children missing. Where were they? The boy had looked, but after days in the growing snow he had finally given up. All the villages he knew... all the ones he had even heard stories about... Gone.

He was alone, and he knew he couldn't survive on his own. Not forever. He had to leave. He had to get out, and that meant crossing the southern wasteland. To the east and west were the great seas that no one had ever crossed. And to the north were the mountains that held up the sky. The gods of his people lived on the other side. Even if he could scale the angry slopes alone, the gods would surely kill him for attempting to approach their home. Just as they had killed everyone else who tried. South was the only option that remained. South across the wasteland... through miles of emptiness, stretching for days in every direction. Somewhere in the heart of the wasteland was a ridge of small mountains, which concealed a network of caves. Supposedly the caves led all the way to the Crystal Sea, but no one knew that for sure.

He was going to have to find out on his own.

The idea frightened him, but he had no choice. And even if there WERE, the boy knew that this was the way he must go. This was the way the marauders came... and it was where they returned. There were tracks from the last village... the snow hadn't had time to cover them yet. He followed them, and they led South to the wasteland. The boy knew that if he survived the cold, if he survived the monsters that lived in the white void, if he didn't loose himself in the maddening emptiness like so many before him, then he would have to face whatever had brought destruction to his people. Be they men or beasts, he would face them. And he would be alone.

His spear grasped tightly in his fist, the boy stood motionless as the snow fell around him. Fear welled up from deep inside him, but instead of holding him back, is spurred him forward. His first step was neither timid nor fearful... for the boy walked with the boldness of a man. A man with nothing left to lose.

---

The sun was low in the sky, and the boy knew that it wouldn't get much higher before it began sinking back towards the horizon. It was almost winter, and the days were only a few hours long. Not the best time to cross the wasteland. Still, it could be worse. Soon the ice storms would come out of the mountains and sweep across the land like a scythe. The storms always ended in the wasteland, and seemed to save much of their energy just to blast the already blasted landscape. He had to be out by then, or the fury of the gods would certainly claim him. Better to die at the hands of the marauders than to let Drya suck the heat from his bones.

He had taken supplies from the last village. Stealing from the dead was one of his people's highest taboos, but in this case it couldn't be avoided. There was a little food that escaped the fire, and extra furs to keep him warm. He found some oil for his lamp, and a pick-axe to help him carve sleeping holes in he ice. He already had a small mammoth-skin tent and a huge leather-and-fur pack to carry everything.

His progress was steady throughout the day. It had stopped snowing, and the wind was slight. Still, the boy made sure to cover his face with animal wax before enclosing it in the confines of his furred hood. The smallest breeze could freeze a man's skin completely off in this cold. The snowshoes and his spear made it easier to walk on the fresh powder as he made his way south. The powder wouldn't be fresh long, though. It'd be frozen solid by tomorrow morning. He navigated by the sun, which always stayed in the southern sky as it traveled east to west. The stars helped him stay on course as well. The brightest of them were visible during the day, and as time went on more and more of them stayed out as the sun's light lessened.

He had captured two rabbits before venturing into the wasteland. Both had been near starvation, and he knew their meat would only last him a short time. He ate the last of it on the morning of the third day, and then immediately set out to find more.

It was a futile effort. He wasn't far enough in encounter any of the wasteland's denizens. He knew of most of them only by legend and hearsay. They were fierce, terrible creatures.

He hoped they were edible as well.

He made his way across the frozen landscape, searching for tracks or spoor. He found a few unfamiliar markings and was kneeling down to get a closer look when he heard it. A cry. Or was it a scream? It almost sounded human. Almost.

Whatever it was afraid and in pain. Either someone needed help, or there was food nearby.

There was a high ridge of hard-packed snow to his left. The boy climbed it and peered down at the scene on the other side. There were three of them... enormous, upright beasts covered from head to toe in white shaggy fur. The looked like polar bears, but the claws and foot-long fangs marked them as something different. They were too stable on their hind feet. Their snouts were too short... their shape, too human.

Snowmen.

The boy had seen only one in his life, a that one had been dead. Judging from the size of these things, the one he saw must have been a child. The three creatures were gathered around something half-buried in the snow. At first the boy thought it was a child's carcass or a small bundle odd-colored clothing... but it moved. When one of the snowmen reached for it, the thing struck out with its long, thin arm and opened the snowman's wrist. The move was so fast that the boy almost didn't see it. The wounded snowman yelped... creating the sound that had drawn the boy... and backed away while the other two both leapt at the unknown creature. The thing moved like a snake, despite the fact that it had arms and legs. It wrapped itself around one snowman's leg and appeared to be biting it on the upper thigh. The third beast struck it with it's own powerful claws and knocked it free. The thing was injured now... blood was pouring from four deep gouges on its back. That didn't stop it from leaping onto the snowman and paying the injury back in kind. It jumped for the snowman's head, but sailed over its shoulder instead. A prehensile tale, which it had kept tucked between it's legs until now, circled the creatures throat and pulled tight. It didn't seem likely that the small thing could suffocate the snowman through its layer of thick fur, but suffocation was not the creature's intention. It hung over the snowman's back and began digging its claws into its flesh. The tiny hands and claws were a bloody blur as fur and flesh decorated the snow.

The snowman screamed. The two others grabbed the creature, pulled it off and threw it to the ground. Instead of running, it immediately tried to leap onto the closest creature. The snowman swatted it away. The swipe connected more from luck than anything else. The creature tumbled back into the snow, leaving a large trail of blood as it tried to scramble away. Seeing that their prey was wounded, one of snowman roared and attacked it...

That was when something beneath the boy gave way with a loud

SNAP!

The shelf of ice and snow came loose and started to slide down the steep incline. The boy caught his scream before it could escape his lips. He ran to get ahead of the miniature avalanche He held onto his spear as best he could, but that effort ended up making things worse. A chunk of ice caught him in the small of his back and he stumbled forward. The blunt end of the spear jammed into a rock, and the boy pole-vaulted several yards... right into the midst of the fight he had just been watching.

The slide of ice and snow ground to a halt not far behind him, but the boy now had other problems. His fall had attracted one of the snowmen's attention, and now the shaggy white beast was lumbering towards him with fangs bared.

"Great." The boy got to his feet and grabbed his spear. He could run, but he knew that the animals in the wild that COULDN'T outrun a human were few and far between. But this thing was already injured... blood still streamed from the huge gash on its right arm.

The boy would have to take it down and hope that the other two were satisfied with whatever it was they were still struggling to kill. He unsheathed his long hunting knife from its hiding place underneath his clothes. With spear in one hand an knife in the other, the boy crouched down low and watched as the snowman bellowed and charged.

GRRROOOO

The thing reeked of offal and carrion. The beast rushed at the boy, but the boy was ready. He let it get close and jabbed it with the spear... which had a slightly longer reach than the creature's arms. The metal tip pierced the thing's side. The creature swung at the boy and narrowly missed removing his head. The boy quickly sliced with his knife and opened a shallow wound on the snowman's other wrist. The thing lunged at him, but the boy pushed the spear forward, sinking more of it into the monster's side.

The snowman bellowed and backed way... taking the boy's spear with it. The boy grabbed the wooden shaft and pulled it free. The barbs ripped red chunks of flesh from the creature's hide as it tore loose. The snowman screamed in pain. It stood still for a moment... balancing on the fine line between fear and uncontrollable rage. Finally, rage won out. It charged the boy full speed, bellowing like a stampeding mammoth. The boy tightened his grip on the spear and braced himself.

The snowman, blinded by pain and anger, impaled itself on the boy's spear. The point and half of the shaft vanished into its gut, just below the ribs. Then it emerged into the open air once again through its back. The violent impact knocked the boy backwards and threw him to the ground. He rolled into a crouching position despite the painful dizziness in his head. The snowman lumbered forward for a few more steps... and then it collapsed.

"Father's name..." the boy exclaimed. He had never killed anything that large before, although if the snowman hadn't already been wounded then the fight probably would have turned out very differently. He had to get out of here. He grabbed his pack from the ground, but he didn't leave.

His spear.

Not only was it the only thing that remained of his father, but it was his only weapon. He couldn't leave it. The boy eyed the other snowmen, who were still wrestling with the unknown creature in the snow. It had been much easier to see what was going on when he was up high... down here he couldn't see anything but fur and bloody snow. He crept toward the dead body and grabbed the spear just below the tip. Pulling it out through the front would take more strength than he had, so the boy yanked it out from behind, pulling it completely through the snowman's still-twitching body. It took eight...nine... ten powerful tugs, but the boy reclaimed his weapon and turned to leave.

GROOOOOO!

One of the other beasts burst through a small snowbank and charged him. It had more wounds than fur... but it was angry, hungry, and the boy was standing directly in its path.

"FATHER'S NAME!" he yelled. He raised his bloody spear, took aim and threw it with all his might.

THW-UUK!

The spearhead demolished the snowman's throat. The monster fell instantly as its severed arteries and windpipe pumped its life's blood out into the snow.

The boy felt the thrill of victory roar through him. He turned his face skyward and shouted to the gods.

"You'll have to do BETTER than THAT!" he yelled. "I may not be the best hunter in the village... but my father's son knows how to THROW A DAMNED SPEAR!!!"

The sky responded with its usual cold silence. The boy retrieved his pack and his spear and crawled through the snow to where the other creatures were. The snow for yards around them was solid red. Most of the blood belonged to the snowman, which had been gutted alive by what it attempted to make its dinner. The other creature lay not far away. While its wounds were less severe, it too showed no signs of life.

The boy used his spear to break loose a few chunks of snow and threw them at the thing. He hit it twice, yet it didn't move.

The boy moved closer.

He had never seen anything like the creature before. Other than the tail, its shape was the same as a human, and about the size of a small child. The head was large and round, with a small, stubby snout for a mouth. Its pale skin bore a patchwork of sickly-looking scales and thin tufts of fur. The boy had never even heard of such an animal... yet here it was. The tales about the wasteland were true... it WAS home to hideous creatures. And here was the proof right in front of him.

The boy remembered his lack of food, and wondered if the thing was edible. When the hunters brought the dead snowman to his village they burned the corpse. The meat was sour and inedible, which was a shame considering how large the creatures were. But the other creature.... what about IT? Was it poisonous?

The boy took his spear and poked the thing in the side. Again there was no movement.

He knelt down and drew his hunting knife. He reached out to roll the creature over, but the second he touched it the thing sprang to life! Hissing like a giant serpent, the creature scrambled away from him and came to a halt about a yard from the boy. It glared at him.

HISSSSSSSS!

"RAAAAAGH!" growled the boy. He threw his spear right at the thing's chest. The thing snatched the spear out of the air as if the deadly projectile had been standing still. It brought the wooden shaft to its nose... sniffed it... and promptly bit it in half.

KRAK!

The treated wood could resist the strength of the two largest men in the boy's village, yet it gave way to the creature's sharp fangs like rotten driftwood.

"NOOOO!"

Anger flooded the boy's mind... but he knew better than to attack. Holding his knife with an increasingly desperate grasp, the boy slowly backed away.

HISSSSS!

"GO AWAY!" he shouted. "I'll KILL YOU!"

The strange creature stared at him. There was no malice in its gaze... but there was no fear, either. The creature almost seemed... curious. It took a tentative few steps toward the boy.

"AWAY!" the boy waved his knife, although he had no idea how he was going to kill this thing if it attacked.

The creature stuck its short nose in the air and sniffed. The boy turned and ran.

He dove over a small snowbank, rolled to his feet, and ran as fast as he could. It was all he could to keep from loosing himself in the snow. After almost a minute, the boy noticed there was no sound of pursuit. He stopped and looked behind him. Nothing.

Nothing behind him.

Nothing in his stomach.

And no weapons except for his hunting knife.

At least he had managed to hang onto his pack.

The boy walked at a more-than-brisk pace for the rest of the day. His knife was in his hand the whole time, but no potential danger... or food... presented itself. He cursed the creature that had broken his spear. Without it, the only way he could eat would be to set traps. And for that he would need bait. And this far into the wasteland, he had no idea what the animals ate... except, of course, him. With the winter season rapidly approaching, most animals would have already begun to migrate to warmer climates, or to special wintering areas where it was difficult for hunters to find them.

By nightfall he was incredibly hungry. He knew that it be a long while before he starved, but hunger would affect his strength and stamina in just a few days. After that, it was more likely he would end up BEING food than obtaining it.

He dug a small pit in the snow, lined it with fur, and pitched an open-top, animal-skin tent over it. He piled as much ice as he could around the outside to prevent the sub-freezing air from seeping in and stealing what little heat he had. The boy had a small oil lamp for light and heat, but he decided to save the oil for later... it would get MUCH colder before this trek was done. He foraged for some burnable material... branches from arctic willows, some frozen mosses, even few animals bones he stumbled across. He lit a fire in the enclosure and, after adjusting his many layers of clothing for the night, slept the sleep of the dead, broken only by nightmares in which his parents' dying voices merged with the wails of the missing children.

It was actually much better than the OTHER dreams he'd been having. The ones where the dead villagers came for him while he slept. Yes... much better than that.

In the morning, hunger assaulted him like an angry bear. He would have to eat soon. He exited his tent, and the first thing he saw was the sky. It was what his father called an 'uneasy' sky. Wispy white clouds were coming in from the north. The breeze was stronger than it had been the day before.

A storm was coming. It was days away now, but the sky always betrayed its intentions well before it struck. Something was coming, and if he didn't find better shelter before it found him, he would die.

He looked down, checking for the tracks of any animals that may have come along during the night. He found a few, which gave him a small amount of hope. They were small... probably snow-weasels investigating the warmth. But then there was something else. Larger tracks. With claws. The tracks led right up to the tent before they simply vanished. And there, in the snow, were the two broken halves of the boy's spear.

"Father's Name!"

The boy stood and watched the broken spear as if he expected it to jump up and run away. It didn't. He started to reach down for it... paused... then thought better of it. He drew his hunting knife and got down on his hands and knees. He reached out slooowly with his free hand...

"EEEEEEEEE"

The creature burst up from its hiding place just as the boy's fingers brushed the weapon. It was the same monster from the day before, but looking much healthier. It emerged from underneath the snow and crouched before the boy. The boy scrambled backwards, then prepared to do battle.

They stared at each other.

"Here we go again," mumbled the boy.

The creature cocked its bulbous head to one side, like a curious pup.

"Go away!"

The creature mewled. It was a bizarre sound that the boy had never heard before.

"I'm hungry. Either you're gonna eat me, or I'm gonna eat you... but we're NOT going to stand out here staring at each other all morning."

The creature sniffed the air in a curiously canine manner.

The boy took a tentative step toward the thing while it just stood there watching him

The boy reached down for his broken spear, which was resting right in front of the creature. He snatched it up and danced back a few steps. He had no idea what to do next. The thing wasn't afraid of him, that much was certain. It was more curious than anything else.

But that didn't mean he couldn't eat it... or that it couldn't eat him.

He raised the pointed end of his ruined spear and threw it. Of course the weapon's balance had been destroyed and the throw went wild. The spearhead sank into the hard snow by the thing's foot.

The creature didn't move.

The boy charged, his knife drawn back like a berserk madman.

"RAAAAA!"

The creature scrambled out of his reach and quickly vanished. The boy spun, and saw it running off into the white distance. The thing was fast. Very fast.

"So much for breakfast."

The boy took down his tent and continued his journey southward.

---

He saw the creature three more times that day. Always from a distance, and always to one side or in front of him. Never behind. The thing was keeping up with him for some reason. Following him.

The boy found a few edible plants late in the day. It was an patch of scraggly thorn-bush, with most of the leaves eaten away. Those that weren't were frozen and inedible. The roots, however, were still thick and filled with a horrid-tasting, yet edible sap. Digging them up was quite a chore. Every inch of the frozen bark was riddled with tiny, tooth-like thorns that made uprooting a bush a very painful experience. He managed to find enough roots to fill his stomach with bitter juice and pulp. He packed some more away for later, and decided to set his camp nearby. The exposed roots had a heavy, herbal smell that might attract animals... which he fully intended to kill and eat.

He dug his small pit and pitched his tent. The thornbush didn't burn well, but it DID burn, so he'd have plenty of fuel for the fire. But only for tonight. The sky was even more cloudy than before, and the wind was beginning to pick up. He had two days at the most before the fury of the gods caught him. And it may hit as early as tomorrow. He tried not to think about it as he put the finishing touches on his tent.

He heard a crunching sound behind him, and turned to find the strange creature curled up several yards away, eating the cache of roots that the boy had hidden in his pack.

"DAMN YOU! GIMME THOSE!"

The creature hissed and threw a juicy root at the boy's head.

THWAP!

"Hey!"

The root smacked the boy in the face. The creature had good aim, and was still eating the boy's food as if the boy wasn't even standing there. The boy grabbed his spear, but then sighed and threw it into the tent. He gathered his pack, through which the creature had thoroughly rummaged, and tossed it in also. Then he began piling snow up against the sides of the tent in preparation for the night.

The creature watched him the whole time, and no sooner did the boy turn his back:

PAF!

A heavy clump of snow hit him in the back of he head. He spun and scowled at the creature, which already had another clump of snow ready to throw.

"Don't DO THAT!"

PAF!

The second snowball knocked the boy down. He almost collapsed his own tent when he fell on it. He jumped up and pointed at the thing.

"YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The boy was looking around for his spear when the creature began sniffing the air as if it'd detected some strange scent. It got up on all fours... which was a strange position for a humanoid creature... and began sniffing the air and ground all around it. It continued to do so for several minutes.

The boy looked around but saw nothing. No other animals had been attracted to the bushes yet, and no predators lurked anywhere that the boy could see. Finally, he ducked inside his open-top tent and began working on the fire. When he had it lit, he peered outside. The creature was gone, but it was probably still nearby. He decided not to worry about it. The creature was dangerous, yes, but if it wanted to kill him it would have done so already. Perhaps it was a scavenger... waiting until the boy acquired food so it could steal it. That fit the pattern so far... but why was the thing throwing roots and snow at him? And what did it smell outside?

The boy was still thinking about it when sleep claimed him.

---

The screaming woke him up. The tortured wailing of hundreds of children bit into his mind like a sharp hook, pulling him screaming back to consciousness. He sat up in the tent, drenched with a cold sweat that could be fatal in this temperature. His heart thundered in his chest. The boy took quick, shallow breaths as he waited for the final echoes of the nightmare to fade. He waited for the sounds of the quiet night to soothe him...

But they never did.

The night was not silent... gusts of wind whistled across the land, and outside the tent came the sound of someone, or something, scratching at the ice. Was it his 'friend' from earlier, or was it some animal that he could actually manage to kill and eat?

The boy pulled off his light furs, replaced several layers of wet underclothing, and then donned heavy furs more suitable for the outside air. He crawled toward the tent flap, but his knee slipped on the ice and he fell flat. He saw something in the ice beside him, where the furs that formed the floor of the tent had been pulled away by his mishap. It was a vague shape... a dark, unidentifiable blotch.

But the boy couldn't take his eyes off of it. He took his pick and chipped at the ice, causing a large chunk of it to come loose, revealing what lay beneath it.

"FATHER'S NAME!" he exclaimed. The boy threw himself to the other side of the tent, and then immediately started for the exit.

The shape in the ice... a face... a head...

A child's body buried in the ice. And he had been sleeping on top of it.

Screaming, the boy burst from the tent and ran out into the snow. He fell after several yards... someone had dug a hole in the ice, and in his frantic run he stepped into it. He came face-to-face with another dead child.

"AAAAAAA!"

The boy pulled himself up and looked around him. They were everywhere. Holes in the ice. Dozens of them... A child at the bottom of each one. These were the children missing from the villages... they had been slaughtered right here... on this very spot, where their bodies still lay.

And he had made camp right in the middle of it!

The boy screamed again, trying to purge the horror from his mind by the shear force of his lungs. After several minutes of howling, he calmed himself down. That's when he heard the sound again. Scratching. Digging. Digging in the ice!

Fear welled up inside the boy once more. The children... they were dead, but the goddess Drya had revived them as the unquiet dead! They were coming for him! Scratching their way out of the ice from below!

No...no... those were just old tales his grandmother told him. The bodies weren't moving... the bodies weren't moving... the bodies weren't moving...

He repeated it in his mind like a magical chant to summon courage. It worked to an extent, but the boy still knew that he HAD to get out of here. He was defiling their resting place... a clear invitation for tragedy. It was dark, and still cold, but he had to go. And he had to go NOW.

But he digging? What was it?

The boy raced around to the other side of the tent, where he saw the same creature as before. It was digging yet another hole in the snow. It had discovered the children... and it was digging them up one by one.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" yelled the boy. He ran and tackled the creature, almost surprised that the thing let him get that close. They rolled over in the snow, but trying to hold the thing was like trying to hold water in his arms. It slipped away and hissed angrily at the boy.

"GO AWAY! YOU CAN'T EAT THEM... LET THEM REST IN PEACE!"

The creature hissed again and then trotted off into the night. The boy immediately broke camp and left the area as quickly as possible. He rolled the bulky tent and skins and stuffed them into his pack, along with the few roots that the horrid man-thing hadn't eaten. He picked his way out of the killing field, carefully avoiding the holes the creature had dug. There were twenty or thirty holes... but how many more children were out here?

The boy didn't want to think about it. He had wanted to discover the missing children's fate, but not this. He would have rather have never found THIS place...

No... he had to leave... get away. It was probably a few hours until dawn, and still dangerously cold even with his heaviest furs. But he simply COULD NOT stay here.

He set off into the cold. The boy thanked his ancestors that he was still alive in the morning, but the sunlight brought an even greater danger. The storm was closer than he thought. The thin white clouds of yesterday were gone, and now huge piles of thick, imposing white moved across the sky like glaciers. There was no blue to be seen at all, and, to the north, the sky was beginning to turn an ominous shade of gray. The wind had risen, and it continued to rise through out the day as the sky grew darker and darker. The temperature rose only slightly once the sun came up, and then it began to drop after only a couple of hours. Soon it was even colder than it was the night before, and the ever-increasing wind made it seem colder still.

The boy tried not to panic. He could see the hills far to the south. With a landscape of maddeningly uniform white it was hard to judge the distance, but the boy had to believe he could reach them before the storm broke. Either he did or he would die... frozen and alone. There was no one left alive to even miss him, let alone come looking.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and forced himself onward. He kept his eyes locked onto the distant shapes on the horizon, and the thanked the ancestors that the wind was at his back and not blowing in his face.

By midday he heard the rumbling of thunder behind him. He turned to look, and the wind nearly froze his eyes closed. He walked faster, pumping dangerous amounts of sweat into his furs and underclothes.

Then the snow started. It didn't begin as a light dust that built up its fury over time... no, suddenly there was a powerful gust of wind, and the air was as so filled with flakes that it became almost impossible to see. The wind knocked the boy down, but he immediately got up and started to run. He watched the mountains vanish in front of him... no longer visible through the blizzard.

The boy knew that navigating blind would send him in circles until he froze to death. He stopped long enough to remove the crude compass from his pack. He placed the mountains from memory, and then kept moving as fast as he could.

There was another gust of wind, and then more thunder. Hideous thunder, the likes of which he hadn't heard in many years. The sky became a gray so dark that it was almost black, and the cold... the cold...

The boy's fingers and toes felt like swollen lumps of pain, even through the multiple layers of clothing. But at least he could still feel them. If he kept moving he could keep the numbness from setting in... which he knew would be the beginning of the end. But the simple task of staying on his feet became more and more difficult. Within and hour after the snow started it almost became too cold to breath. Each breath of frigid air was like a sharp knife ripping through his nasal passages. He felt the cold against his skin despite the furs, and it was snowing so hard that he could barely see the compass in his own hand.

His body became heavy... his limbs weak. The pack on his back was like carrying a dead mammoth. He wanted to drop it, but it contained his only survival gear. And the way it was snowing, it would be completely buried within minutes after he dropped it, eliminating any chances of coming back to get it later. He had to keep it... the fur tent, the oil lamp, the pick-axe. But they were soooo heavy...

If only he could rest for a little while. It would be foolish... suicidal... but he'd make more time if he rested just for a moment... just for a few seconds.... he couldn't lay down, of course, but maybe he could just stand still for a while... just for a while...

The sky-shattering roar of thunder literally shook the boy out of his stupor. He was sitting on the ground, shivering violently while the snow built up around him. It was the madness. Extreme cold drained men of their sanity just as it drained them of their heat. It made men do strange, often fatal things. Like sitting down in the middle of a blizzard. He hadn't even realized he'd done it, yet it would have killed him in minutes. The boy struggled to his feet and continued... fortunately he hadn't dropped the compass, or his pack, for it would have been impossible to find them if he had.

The boy had to force his mind to stay focused, which took even more effort... more energy from his rapidly fading reserves. He felt the cold pulling at his mind. He strained to stay focused on the mountains that he couldn't even see, but that became harder and harder to do.

He didn't know how long his toes had been numb before he even noticed. He had to warm them, but he had to keep moving, too. Moving where? There was nothing but white all around him. Even the AIR was white. The boy checked his compass, but found that he had dropped it. It was gone. HE was gone. He noticed that his legs were shaking... and then he was on the ground. He lay on his back, looking up at the black sky as it dumped snow upon him. His body was too cold to even feel the remainder of its heat begin to slip away.

It was so cold... so cold....

The boy rolled over and began to pull himself through the snow. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to move. He paused just long enough to shrug the heavy pack from his back, and then kept going.

...the pack...

The boy turned around and went back. There was oil in the pack. Oil for the lamp. Oil that would burn. Maybe if he set himself on fire he'd be able to make it... if he took off all his furs and set himself on fire... he would be warm then... yes... so warm... he could almost feel it already... feel the warmth...yes....yesss, it felt sooo good...

---

The next thing the boy felt were the claws of some animal ripping through his clothes. His eyes were frozen shut; he couldn't see. He was about to be torn open and eaten alive... and he didn't care one bit...

---

He was alive. It took him a while to come to that conclusion, and when he did he couldn't tell if it was a good thing or not. He hurt, and being alive meant that there would be more pain. He was thirsty and nauseous and dizzy and weak... but he was alive.

The boy opened his eyes. The first thing that struck him was that he could see. It was dark... abysmally dark... but there was a faint green glow that allowed him to make out the shape of his own hands when he held them up to his face. Everything beyond that was shadow. He was laying on his back on a rough stone surface, and his clothes were in tatters. He had several long rips down the front of his outer furs... furs which were mysteriously dry. The back of his head hurt, but he didn't remember hitting it. It probably came from laying on the rocks... but where was he and how had he gotten here?

It took several minutes for his eyes to adjust. He could see a little more now. He was in a cave. Dark passages disappeared to the front and rear, and a few luminous patches of moss cast eerie light on the rocky walls. The cave was cool, but not cold. Probably not even below freezing... which meant that he couldn't be anywhere near the entrance to the cave.

Was this the cave that burrowed underneath the southern half of the Wasteland? Had he reached the mountains without even knowing it? What had happened?

He tried to sit up, but pain and weakness forced him to abandon the effort. His muscles were sore, and he had inexplicable bruises all over his body... mostly on the back of his legs, his shoulders, and his back. He could feel his fingers and toes, and every one of them hurt.

The boy saw a shape laying beside him. He reached out for it, and felt the familiar fur of his pack. He still had it, and it was still full. Perhaps if he could manage to light the lamp he could discover more about where he was...

The second he moved the pack, a shadow fell away from the wall and landed just in front of him. The boy opened his mouth to scream, but was too weak to do so. The thing leaned down, placing its pale, bulbous head mere inches from the boy's face.

It sniffed, and then made a low, mewling sound. The boy recognized it. The creature from before... the one with the snowmen... the one that was digging up the bodies.

"Father's name," he whispered. The thing was a scavenger. A carrion-eater. It had probably been following him all this time because it expected him to die. And when he lost consciousness in the storm, it dragged his body to its lair to be consumed. "Please... please don't eat me..."

HISSSS!

The thing leaned in even closer.

"Please..."

The boy felt the thing's clawed hand close around his throat. He grabbed the creature's skinny arm and tried to force it away, but either he was weaker than he thought, or the creature was much, much stronger than it appeared.

The creature's other hand moved towards the boy's face. His eyes grew wide as he tried to struggle free.

Then he noticed that the creature was holding something. It placed the patch of moss against the boy's lips and tried to force it into his mouth.

It was feeding him.

The boy resisted, but when the thing's claws bit into his lips, he opened and the filthy patch of green slid into his mouth. The taste was... good. The boy hadn't realized he was hungry until that moment, but suddenly he was starving. The creature's arm disappeared into the darkness behind it, and returned with another, larger bunch of edible moss. The boy reached out for it, the thing deposited it gently onto the palm of his hand.

"What are you?" said the boy between mouthfuls. The creature looked at him curiously. It was still hideously ugly, but its face had a certain intelligent quality that the boy hadn't allowed himself to notice before. Perhaps it was the light.

"What... are... you?" he repeated.

"Arrooo." repeated the creature. It's voice was like the mewling of a cat, twisted into an imitation of human speech.

"Can you talk?"

"Oootok."

"Can... you... understand... me?"

"mnee!"

"Where are we?" said the boy.

The creature made an aggravated hiss... which the boy assumed was its standard reaction to just about everything.

"Arwee! Arwee!"

"We're in the caves, aren't we? You brought me here... out of the storm. You saved my life. Why?"

The creature didn't respond. It merely looked at him curiously.

The boy tried to get up, but the thing hissed and pushed him back down to the floor.

"I have to light a fire... take some of the chill out of the air. Do you understand?"

The creature allowed him to reach for his pack and pull out his flints. Then he gathered some moss and leftover burnable material and started a small flame. The effort tired him out completely, and the boy sank back to the hard stone ground.

"There..." he pointed to the fire. "Put things... put things on the fire... keep it going..."

The boy lay down, and as the heat warmed him he returned to a deep slumber.

---

The fire was still burning when he awoke. The boy felt much better, although the bruises still pained him. He sat up and saw that he was alone. He had no doubt that the creature was close by, though.

"Hello?" he called.

Nothing.

The boy stood and grabbed his pack. Picking it up was more of a chore than he'd imagined. He removed the oil lamp and slung it onto his back.

"UNGH!" he winced under the weight, and had serious second thoughts about trying to walk. He had food and warmth, but so far no water other than the moisture in the moss he'd eaten. He decided to keep moving.

"Now... which way?"

The boy had no idea which direction led to back to the wasteland, and which led... somewhere else. He looked for his compass, but remembered that he'd dropped it in the snow. His spear... or what was left of it... was missing as well.

"Which way leads south!" he shouted. The only responses were echoes. The boy picked a direction and started walking.

He felt better once he started moving, and was able to make his way through the cave with increasing ease. With no method of telling time, the boy didn't know how long he walked before he rested. He was thirsty and hungry, but he couldn't find any more of the edible moss the creature had given him. He sat down on a rock to catch his breath.

THUNK!

A small rock bounced not-too-lightly off of the top of his head. The boy looked up...

"AAA!"

"EEEEEE!"

The boy and the creature both screamed at each other... the boy from shock at finding the hideous monster directly above him, hanging from the rocky ceiling by its claws, and the thing in surprise at the boy's scream.

"What are you DOING up there!"

The creature didn't answer, not even with an imitation of the boy's words. It simply hung for a few seconds, and then crawled along the ceiling as if it were the most normal thing in the world. It went in the direction the boy had been traveling, and quickly vanished into the darkness. The boy got up and followed it. Before long, they came to a place where a tiny rivulet of water was trickling down the wall like a small stream. The creature paused while the boy filled his empty canteen, emptied it down his parched throat, and refilled it again. Then the thing lapped at the water on the wall before continuing on.

"You knew there was water here, didn't you?" said the boy. The thing ignored him and vanished into the darkness.

They made their way through the tunnel for the rest of what the boy assumed was the day. It could have been pitch black outside for all he knew. When he got tired, he made a small fire and slept on the ground beside it. The creature vanished and returned some time later with a small amount of some other edible fungus. The boy was reluctant to eat it at first, but the creature hadn't betrayed him yet so he stuffed his hungry mouth with the foul-smelling mushrooms. They were significantly less than delicious, but they took the painful edge off of his hunger long enough for him to get to sleep.

The next day, they continued as before.

They found the body three days after the boy first awoke in the cave. The temperature had warmed up considerably, though it was still quite chilly. The boy noticed an odd smell in the air as they made their way southward. At first he thought it was a particularly aromatic patch of the mushrooms he'd... but the smell took a sudden turn for the worse. It became a sharply unpleasant stench that sent the strange creature accompanying him into regular fits of sneezing and coughing. Just when the boy was beginning to worry about poisonous gasses, the light from his nearly-empty oil lamp illuminated a pair of legs protruding into the passage from around a far corner.

The body hadn't been there very long, which explained why it still stunk like the fresh corpse that it was. But it was not the smell or even the presence of the body that disturbed him.

It was the uniform.

The body was male. Tall and presumably muscular at one time. A soldier. He was dressed in a loose-fitting uniform of red and gold cloth. The cloth was thick and warm, and the collars and sleeves were lined with a strange kind of fur. The boy had never seen such clothing before, but he disliked it instinctively. What was this man doing here? Was he part of a larger group? The stone held no footprints, and the boy didn't want to turn the lamp up any higher to search for signs of passage. He was almost out of oil as it was.

It was quite easy to see what the man had died of. He was missing one arm. His right arm had been ripped, bitten, or torn off just below the shoulder. He had died either of shock or loss of blood... probably the latter. There was a dark stain on the rocks all around the body... and large splashes of blood on the floor up ahead. Whatever had attacked him was in front of them.

The corpse had several objects attached to its belt. One was a long knife, which was of much higher quality than the boy's. There was also a small pouch filled with metal coins. They were neither gold nor silver... the boy couldn't tell what they were. There was also a piece of parchment rolled into a scroll and tucked into the belt. The boy unfolded it, but he could make no sense of the scribblings. It was written in a language other than the one of his people... a fact which disturbed the boy even more. As he knelt to retrieve the blade, his lamp fell across another weapon laying on the floor about a yard away. At first he thought it was a spear or a staff... both of which he knew how to use. It actually DID resemble a spear, but where the spearhead should have been, there was a large strangely-shaped axe-blade. The weapon had dried blood on it.

The boy took the weapon and wiped as much of the blood off as he could... which wasn't much. The heavy blade made the staff too unbalanced and top-heavy for throwing, and far too unwieldy to use as a staff. But it was a weapon, and the edge was quite sharp.

Leaving the body behind, the boy walked on deeper into the caves. The scent of the corpse cleared slowly, but the boy's sense of unease continued to grow. Was the soldier one of those responsible for the death of his people? For the slaughter of the children?

And just what had attacked him in these caves? The boy found splotches of blood every few steps along the path. He expected them to end soon, but they kept going ... the soldier must have been very strong indeed to make it so far with his arm bitten off.

The passage took a sharp upward turn, and then leveled off almost immediately. At the top of the incline was a fork in the passage. The second passage was much smaller, and actually appeared to be nothing more than a deep crack in the cave wall. The bottom of it was more than a foot up from the floor of the main passage, and just outside the opening was a pile of jagged rock.

As the boy approached the new passage, the creature that had been accompanying him suddenly dropped from the ceiling in front of him and hissed violently. The boy backed away.

"What is it?"

The creature sniffed, and then crept over to the crack. It crouched down by its edge and peered in...

The boy didn't even see the giant serpent-creature until his companion was already in its jaws. The thing's head was huge... almost the size of the boy's whole body. The black scaly jaws jetted from the crack, clamped down over the smaller creature's head and shoulders and began pulling him back into the dark crevice.

The tiny creature screamed and racked its claws down the serpent's face. It was preventing itself from being swallowed whole... but at the risk of being snapped in half. The serpent began shaking its head back and forth, whipping the creature from side to side like a chew toy.

"NOOOO!"

The boy threw the heavy pack from his back and rushed toward the serpent. He raised the soldier's spear-weapon and brought it down on the serpent's neck, right where the head emerged from the crevice. Thick blood spurted from the wound, but the serpent didn't release the other creature. The thing had scratched out one of the serpent's eyes, but now it was ominously limp in the giant monster's jaws.

"LET HIM GO!"

The axe-blade came down again and again...

THOK! THOK! CRUNCH!

Everything went still.

The serpent's head hung from its neck by a single cord of thick, bloody flesh. The smaller creature still lay in its deadly jaws, with several sets of the serpent's long teeth piercing its pale flesh. The boy had to pry the snake's jaws open with the wooden handle of the weapon, and then pull the creature free of the long dagger-like teeth that had sank into its back.

It was still alive.

The tiny chest moved up and down in irregular jolts, but the things eyes were glassy and unresponsive. There were two rows of deep punctures along its shoulders and upper back. Surprisingly, no bones had been broken despite the terrible thrashing it had taken. However, the thing was bleeding like a slaughtered animal. The boy removed some rags from his pack and stopped the flow of blood as best he could, but he knew so little about this creature. He had already seen it severely wounded one day and perfectly healthy the next... assuming that it had been the same creature.

Not wanting to stay so close to the serpant's lair, the boy dragged the creature as far as he dared and then made camp. He had no way of finding edible moss or mushrooms, so the best he could offer it was the water from his canteen. The creature would not drink... which was not a good sign.

The boy started a fire and watched over the creature that had watched over him.

"Please live," he said. "I don't know what you are, but you're the only friend I have right now. If it weren't for you..."

The boy realized the silliness of talking to an unconscious creature that probably couldn't understand him anyway. He still felt the sadness though. This thing WAS like a friend... and now it was going to die like all the others.

"I don't know if you have a name," he continued. "My name is-"

The creature coughed and spasmed violently. The boy knelt by its side, but he didn't have the slightest idea what to do. About a cupful of blood spilled from the thing's mouth... and then it lay still. Its breathing was weaker but more even now. The boy didn't know what was happening, but he knew he wasn't going to be going anywhere until it was over, one way or the other...

---

He didn't even know he had fallen asleep.

The fire was down to mere embers, but that and a few patches of glowing moss growing nearby, the boy was able to see. The wounded creature still lay beside him. It was alive, and in much better condition than it had been just one night before. The bleeding had stopped deep wounds were almost closed. It was as if the serpent's attack had occurred several days ago instead of mere hours.

The creature lifted its round head when the boy began to move about.

"You heal fast, don't you," said the boy. He gave it some water, and it drank the remainder of the canteen's contents. "I'm sure you can sniff out some more. Are you well enough to move?"

The thing tried to move, but it didn't seem able to do more than twitch its limbs. It tried once more, and this time managed to stand up. It balanced itself with the help of its tail, but walking seemed a bit too much.

"Here..." The boy donned his pack and then got down on his knees. He patted the fur-and-leather contraption on his back. "Climb on."

The creature weighted hardly anything, and the boy had to check to see if it was actually there. It was... sitting on the top of his pack with its tail wrapped around his lower chest. The boy got up, lit the oil lamp, and started walking.

"No more strange caves, okay?"

The creature hissed in agreement.

---

The oil lamp gave out after about an hour, leaving them in almost complete darkness. Occasional patches of moss teased them with their eerie dim glow, but mostly the boy had to feel his way along with his hand and his spear-weapon.

It wasn't long before the boy felt the temperature begin to drop. And it dropped FAST. He had to dislodge the creature, which was dozing on its perch, and don his mittens and heavy furs... all without the benefit of being able to see. Once wrapped in warmer clothes, they continued on. The boy knew that the cold meant they were probably getting closer to the surface. They probably didn't have very much further to go, but just how long was impossible to judge.

It wasn't long at all. The temperature dropped about ten more degrees... well below freezing... and then the boy felt a light wind on his face. It was cold, but not as cold as he was used to. And it had a strange smell to it. Water. The sea. The Crystal Sea! They hadn't made it yet, but they were VERY close! He turned the next corner and suddenly he could see.

The exit to the cave was as the top of an incline so steep that it was almost a vertical wall. The boy couldn't see outside... but enough light was coming in to illuminate everything around him.

He wondered if he could make it up the incline with so much weight strapped to his back.

"I may have to put you down and go look aroun-"

The boy halted in mid-sentence. He heard something. A voice. And it wasn't an echo.

It was coming from above, outside the cave. Two voices... two men... were talking in a language that the boy did not recognize. The voices got closer... paused... and then got further away.

Were they more soldiers? Had they heard him?

The boy removed his pack and set both it and his friend on the ground. Grasping his strange spear, he started toward the exit. The creature stood and tried to follow him, but the boy waved it back and continued up alone.

He moved as quietly as he could, and when he reached the top he peered over the edge... and looked right at the huge black boots of the soldier that was waiting there for him. The man wore a red and gold uniform similar to the corpse the boy had found earlier. This man was very much alive, however. And HUGE!

He grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked him out of the cave. The boy tried to hold onto his weapon, but the soldier grabbed it and pulled it away as if the boy weren't even grasping it.

The soldier shouted something into the boy's face, but the boy couldn't even begin to understand it.

"LET ME GO!" he shouted.

The soldier dropped him onto the sand... and then punched him in the face. The force of the blow spun the boy completely around... where another punch threw him to the ground. Then the soldier kicked him in the ribs. The boy doubled over in pain, and winced as the soldier kicked him several more times. His thick furs absorbed some of the assault... but not nearly enough.

The rain of blows stopped, and as the lay curled into a ball on the sand, he saw the beach for the first time. The Crystal Sea stretched before them... water reaching as far as the horizon... and beyond. He had made it...

"OOOF!"

Another kick brought him back to reality. He had only made it as far as his own death.

There were two soldiers... the one kicking him and another one standing by the beach. There was a small boat that had been pulled well out of the reach of the tide. It was only large enough to hold three or four people, yet there were the remnants of numerous campfires. A larger group had been here recently... and had probably gone back to whatever lay across the Crystal Sea.

The first soldier shouted to the other and pointed to the cave. The second solder grabbed his own weapon... just like the one the boy had... and quickly lowered himself into the darkness.

The creature was still in there.

"NO! Leave him alone!" yelled the boy. "HE'S not dangerous! HE won't hurt you!"

The first man shut him up with another kick... this one barely missed the boy's windpipe.

The second man shouted something from inside the cave. The boy wished he could understand what they were saying, but the next sound that emerged was unmistakable...

"AAAAIIIIIIIIGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The first soldier turned towards the cave just as the second one reappeared. He was recognizable only from the uniform. His face had been shredded. Deep grooves ran from the top of his scalp to the tip of his chin. Both eyes were missing. One ear had been cleanly sliced away.

The first soldier tried to pull the second one of the cave... completely forgetting about the boy.

He drew his knife and stabbed the man in the back, just below the neck. The blade went halfway in, and the boy gave it a hard twist before the man screamed and spun around. The boy already had his own hunting knife ready. He slashed at the man's midsection, but missed as the man stumbled over his comrade and fell...

...right into the cave.

"AAAARRRGHHH!!!"

The man began desperately trying to climb back out, but the creature in the cave leapt over his back and emerged before him. The soldier's eyes got as large as moons when he saw the hideous thing crouching protectively next to the boy. The man froze.

"Who are you?" said the boy. "Who sent you?"

The man didn't answer, and the boy figured that the soldier couldn't understand his language any more than he could comprehend the soldier's.

Suddenly the man fell face-down in the sand. The boy's knife was still protruding from his back... which also bore four inch-deep grooves down its entire length. It was a wonder that he had made it out of the cave at all.

The boy walked over to him, removed his knife, and rolled the man over. He was still alive... barely.

"The sea..." the boy pointed to the water. "What lies on the other side."

The soldier looked confused.

"THE SEA! WHOEVER SENT YOU IS THERE! TELL ME!"

The boy pointed repeatedly at the water, trying to make the man understand. Finally he got through. Just before he died, the man mouthed a word. The boy didn't recognize it, but the mere sound of it made his muscles clench and his skin rise up into goosebumps. It was like thunder on a perfectly quiet night... ominous... evil...

"K'Sano," the soldier said.

Then he died.

The boy watched the corpse cool for a while, then he stood and tried to rub the soreness out of his ribs. His attempts only made it worse, so he retrieved his pack from the cave and started walking towards the boat. The creature watched him as he went. It stood and licked its own wounds while the boy searched up and down the shore for signs of more guards. All he found was more campfires. More than a hundred. Enough for an army... an army large enough to villages and herd children into the wasteland to be slaughtered.

And why?

The boy had to know. He had to know why. He had to face this K'Sano... whoever or whatever he was.

As he pulled the boat out into the water, he wondered what lay before him. He hadn't expected to make it this far. How much further would his quest take him? And would his luck last that long? He looked behind him... his homeland. Only it wasn't his homeland any more. It was gone. Destroyed. All that remained was what he carried in his heart.

That would have to be enough.

The boy hopped into the boat, and the creature was right behind him. It curled up in the bow near the fishing rods, water, and dried food that the solder's had 'donated' to the boy's trip.

"Coming with me, eh?" said the boy. The thing lifted its head and looked at him. "I'll look after you... if you'll look after me. Deal?"

The thing mewled and went to sleep.

"Don't think I can convince you to help me row?"

The thing ignored him completely, which was about what the boy expected. He sighed, braced his body for the strain, and began rowing away from the shore.

[The Beginning]