[NYLA: 13th day of the 2nd Veth of Jot, year 327]

The winter air was harsh on her lips as Nyla ran, her rushed steps muffled by the deep snow. She was breathing hard, and she knew the heavy footfalls of the Hilvorn beast were not too far behind her. Nyla took a moment to glance over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw the heavily muscled mass of fur, teeth, and cruel intellect close the distance between them. 

Nyla panicked and faced forward again, pumping her arms and legs faster, putting a little more distance between her and the beast. She felt tears begin to stream down her face as she silently prayed to Kalla, goddess of the hunt, for speed and endurance. 

“No!” Nyla cried out as she felt the impact of something on her back, knocking her face first into the cold softness of the snow. She rolled onto her back just as a clawed hand swiped down, shredding the clothing that covered her chest. 

Nyla cried openly now, she wanted the end to come. She wanted the pain to be over, she wanted her life to be done. She had nothing left to give, everything had been taken from her. Now she was little more than bait for the Hilvorn beast.

Nyla was losing blood. She felt what remained of her clothes absorbing her blood and beginning to freeze to her body. As her vision faded, she saw the jaw of the beast come down too close around her head.Just before the blackness closed in, a large boot kicked the jaw away. Then Nyla fell into unconsciousness, her mind replaying events seemingly to mock her. 

[NYLA: 1st day of the 4th Veth of Kiv, year 324]

Nyla was a child of 16. She knew little of the world, other than the soft voice of her mother, and gentle hands of her father. She knew sometimes the men would go fight others from different tribes, but she had never understood why or who. 

The night before one of the warriors, Iven, had returned from somewhere with a strange woman and an even stranger object that seemed to sing out to Nyla. This morning the tribe elders had called for all the young women of the village to assemble, and one by one they were called into the elders' home. Without fail moments later each woman would leave with a cloth pressed to their palm. 

Finally, it was Nyla’s turn. She stepped past the heavy furs acting as barriers to the wind.. Inside was Iven, the Woman, and two of the Elders wearing strange masks. Iven held a knife, as did the woman. 

“Sit, Nyla.” One of the elders said, voice muffled in the strange mask. 

Nyla sat and gave her hand to Iven when he gestured for it. In between the strange woman and Nyla was the object.A silver sphere that shifted with the harmony of sounds it produced. The strange woman pressed the tip of the knife into an already open wound, dropping two or three drops of blood onto the silver sphere.

Iven pressed his own knife into Nyla’s hand and drew out a small amount of blood, flicking the knife in a practiced manner to drop Nyla’s blood onto the sphere as well. In the instant the blood of both women was in contact with the sphere, a strange low bellow—reminiscent of an extremely ominous hunting horn, issued from the sphere.

For Nyla and the other woman, there was a moment of intense understanding, almost as if they shared one mind. It also instantly made Nyla aware of what was going to happen, so when the moment of understanding ended she watched in almost slow motion as Iven slammed his knife into the back of the Elder closest to him, and then moved to snap the other elder’s kneck with a quick jerk of his hands.

In the dream-become-memory, time skipped forward to when she had been held in the Igval clan’s prison, and one of the guards decided to try his luck with her…

[NYLA: 13th day of the 2nd Veth of Jot, year 327]

Nyla felt hands pressing to her breasts and panicked, thrashing against them to get away, the dream still fresh in her mind. 

“Fool Woman! Lay still, or I’ll do more harm than good!” A gruff voice said in strangely accented Jeshi. 

Nyla froze and took stock of her situation, realizing that while yes she was bare from the waist up, there was very little that was sexual in nature happening. Instead, she could feel very little, almost as if numbroot had been applied. “What…What is happening?” Nyla’s speech was slurred, and the environment was alien to her. 

“Hilvorn beast tore you wide open. But no worries, I can patch you up pretty good, better than your kind could do anyways.” The strange voice said.

Nyla got a look at her savior then. He was tall, freakishly so. Nyla’s head would only reach to just above his belt line. He was also pale, a peachy color with brown hair above his eyes and around his mouth. He was not a proper reddish hue for a male of any tribe or even a violet hue for a female. She realized she was looking at a being who was not Narvish. Then Nyla passed out once more. 

[CAL: 13th day of the 2nd Veth of Jot, year 327 | HSSD: 13MAY4735]

“Hilvorn beast tore you wide open. But no worries, I can patch you up pretty good, better than your kind could anyways.” Cal said, pressing a button to administer more anesthetic. He watched the small, strange, purplish humanoid stare intently at him for a moment before the drugs did their work and knocked her unconscious. 

 “Okay, now that our little friend is knocked the fuck out, let's get her patched up, shall we Artie?” Cal said out loud to the empty room.

“Understood Cal.” A smooth voice seemed to emanate from the room, as Artie, the AI companion of Cal, spoke out, “Now first things first, make sure that there is not a chunk of her breast missing. If everything closes up nicely, you can begin stitching.” 

Cal wondered again at the programming of Artie as he examined the small pair of breasts he was working on. Looking at her chest, the left breast was cut almost cleanly in two, her right had three shorter gashes on it, and before she had awoken, Cal had managed to pack all three cuts with a gel that served as a numbing agent and also aided in the healing process.

Cal worked swiftly and surely under the direction and observation of Artie, and within an hour all four lacerations had been stitched and bandaged. Cal looked at his handy work, knowing she would have some scaring and maybe some sensitivity issues, but it would have to do. Cal also knew if he had taken her to one of the tribal gatherings nearby, she would have most likely been left to bleed out and die.

Considering his options and the fact that this particular Hilvorn beast had originally been hunting Cal before it caught wind of the small being, Cal had felt that it was his responsibility to get her patched up and figure out what was going on. Cal thought all this as he finished wrapping her chest with bandaging, carrying her small frame to a sleeping pod that would detect and adjust to her optimal sleep settings. 

“All we can do is wait now, right Artie?” Cal said more to himself than to Artie.

“I guess so, Cal.” Artie responded

[NYLA: 15th day of the 2nd Veth of Jot, year 327]

Nyla came to in complete bliss. Never before had she felt as she did now…comfortable, warm, and supported in all the places her body needed support. She felt as if she could sink into wherever she was and be perfectly content for the rest of her life. Then her body reminded her that not only was she healing, but she was hungry and needed to get up. 

Nyla looked around for a door to go outside, or at least a soilpot of some kind. A voice that seemed to emanate out from everywhere spoke then, “The facilities I believe you are looking for are located here.” 

A line of light appeared around a door that Nyla had not noticed before. She walked to it and then had the embarrassing experience of having the disembodied voice talk her through how to utilize the strange soilpot.

“Thank you, strange messenger of the Gods.” Nyla said with reverence in her voice. 

“Oh, I am not a messenger of the Gods.” The voice said with an amused tone. 

Nyla’s eyes widened and she fell to her knees. “I am sorry, I did not mean to offend one of the Gods!”

Another door that Nyla had missed opened, and through it walked the strange pinkish creature. She stayed bowed on the ground. Cal looked up from the tray small tray of food he was carrying,“Umm, Artie, what's going on?” 

“She thinks that I am a God.” Artie said, the amusement still blatant in his voice, “I wonder what that makes you Cal?” 

“Okay, that’s enough of that, Artie.” Cal said in a tone that broached no argument, “And miss? Please, stand up. We are not Gods or their messengers or any such thing. I brought you some food, and I want to ask you some questions to make sure you are healing well. I also want to ask what exactly you were doing this far north, this late in the season?”

Nyla looked around, embarrassed, and stood quickly. She took a seat on the edge of the miraculous sleeping platform, “You are not Gods? But all of this.” She gestured around, “And how you healed me so quickly… and the voice.”

“It is a lot to take in.” Cal said, wondering where he should even begin, “Well, why don’t we start with names, and food, and go from there?” 

“Very well.” Nyla said, accepting the tray that was covered in strange but delicious-smelling food, “I am Nyla of no clan, formerly of the 13th clan, and former prisoner of the Igval clan.” 

“Nyla, it is good to meet you.” Cal said before continuing, “I am Callum, though everyone just calls me Cal, and the disembodied voice you hear is Artie, he is a… well just think of him as a good spirit.”

“You can call me Artie.” Artie said. 

Cal watched Nyla as she processed the information. Good spirit was far more believable than Artificial Intelligence developed by humanity. Nyla nodded slowly, “Very well, Cal, Artie, it is a pleasure to meet you both. I have some questions Cal, and you did as well. So, why don’t we take turns asking and answering?” 

“Sounds good, I’ll start.” Cal said with a small smile, “What were you doing so far north this late in Jot? I know that the tribes sometimes come north for hunting, but they usually send a large party. So what were you doing?”

“I was attempting to die. It was only after the Hilvorn beast began chasing me that I realized I did not want to die.” Nyla said in a very matter-of-fact way. “Cal, forgive me if this is rude, but what are you?”

“I am a human, I believe I am the only one currently on this planet.” Cal said trying to imagine what would drive this woman to want to either freeze to death or be eaten, “Nyla why did you want to die?”

“I was fed up with the disgusting way I was being forced to live.” Nyla said, her tone telling Cal that there was a lot more there to talk about, but now might not be the time, “What is a Human?” 

“That's a good question.” Cal said, thinking for a minute about how he should answer, “Artie why don’t you take this one?” 

“Very well.” Artie said. “Humanity, or the human race, is what many call a precursor race. They were one of the first three races to achieve sentience in this arm of the galaxy. They are the only known precursor race to survive the collapse of their society, and currently have only two worlds around their original star, lovingly named Sol after countless media depictions. The Human Empire…” 

“That's enough Artie.” Cal said seeing Nyla struggle to understand a lot of what was being said. “I know it is hard to understand, and when you do understand it, it will be difficult to believe. But I am a human who is not from your world. So my next question is, what do you plan to do next, now that you know you want to live?”

Nyla stared up at Cal, the fleshy pink giant, and realized that he was probably telling the truth. He was an alien from another world, and she was trapped in a room with a strange disembodied voice, along with this strange giant. Nyla began to laugh, taking in the crazy that was everywhere around her, and she wondered how her life would change next.