Scouting south along the ridge, Felix made his way closer to the encampment. Remembering Z’s warning that he was in danger, he used the cover of the trees to stay out of sight. The smell of cooking food urged him onward.
He found a section of the cliff face that was both concealed and shallow enough to descend. Skirting the sharpened-stick barricade surrounding the settlement, he made his way to the river, which appeared largely unprotected. Wading into the cool water, he used the overhanging trees to conceal himself.
The cold current was soothing, and a welcome opportunity to wash. Beneath his cloth poncho, Felix scrubbed the grime from his skin, splashed water over his face and scalp, and realized he was completely bald. He tried to catch his reflection, but the moving water distorted it beyond recognition.
Upstream, a line of drying clothes caught his attention.
They were in far better condition than the tattered sack tied around his waist.
Keeping low, Felix slipped onto the bank and found a set that looked close to his size. The rough-woven trousers and spun tunic had a vaguely Renaissance look to them, but they fit well enough and, more importantly, didn’t stink.
Beyond the clothesline sat an open-air kitchen.
His stomach made the decision for him.
Fish hung from strings, drying in the smoke. Felix took one and bit into it eagerly. Salt, protein, and fat flooded his senses. He finished it in only a few bites before grabbing another.
A shout erupted from one of the nearby huts.
“Don’t touch me!” a woman yelled.
“You should have me!” a man’s voice protested.
A sharp smack echoed through the village.
“Fuck off!”
“No. Submit, wench!”
Another slap.
Every muscle in Felix’s body tensed.
Leaning beside the doorway was a hand-hewn bow and a quiver of arrows. Felix rushed forward, raising his grappling hook like a mace. He considered taking the bow but dismissed the idea. He’d never fired one, and inside a small hut it would probably be useless anyway.
“Get the fuck off me!”
That was enough.
Felix drove his shoulder through the door with all his weight.
The scene inside wasn’t remotely what he expected.
A young woman, fully clothed.
A slightly older man, completely naked, his face already bloodied.
Two adults in priestly robes stood nearby, watching whatever this was supposed to be.
All four stared at Felix in stunned silence.
“Get off her…”
His voice faded as he took in the room.
The woman he’d assumed was the victim glared at him with equal parts fury and disbelief.
The battered man looked confused.
The priest and priestess regarded him with immediate suspicion.
“Get out,” the woman ordered.
Felix blinked.
“I’m… sorry. I thought you needed help.”
“From you?” she scoffed.
“Are you okay? I… uh… what is this?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“Wait.”
The priestess stepped forward, studying him.
“Where did you come from?”
Felix opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Sir,” the priest said evenly, “the lady asked your origin.”
They continued studying him. His strange clothing. His crude weapons. His uncertainty.
“I asked you a direct question,” the priestess repeated. “From what township or village do you come?”
Instinctively, Felix glanced over his shoulder toward the distant cliff and the ants’ cave.
The room froze.
The priestess stiffened.
The priest’s eyes widened before he slowly began backing toward a rear door.
The naked man looked between them, bewildered.
The woman’s anger evaporated, replaced by unmistakable horror.
“I asked you a question.” The priestess advanced another step. “What is your name?”
Felix noticed the priest continuing to retreat toward the back exit.
The priestess saw where Felix had looked.
“No…”
Her voice barely escaped as a whisper.
“No…”
She reached beneath her robes and drew a sharpened horn blade.
The woman retreated into a corner.
The naked man remained seated on the floor, blinking in confusion.
The priest slipped silently out the rear door.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Felix said, lowering into a ready stance with his club.
The priestess pointed the blade toward him.
“You’re him.”
Felix frowned.
“Him?”
“The one they warned us of.”
She swallowed.
“The Bringer of Ends.”
Felix looked around the room.
“…Okay.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“It seems like I interrupted your… whatever this is.”
He gestured awkwardly.
“Not to kink-shame or anything. I’m just not into…” He motioned vaguely around the room. “…all this.”
He took a cautious step backward.
“You all do you. I’ll just—”
The priestess screamed and charged.
Felix reacted instinctively.
His club met her temple with a decisive crack.
She spun sideways, blood spraying across the naked man before collapsing to the floor.
Silence.
The woman’s bravado collapsed with her. She curled into a ball against the wall, refusing to look.
Felix stood frozen.
He’d just killed another person.
He looked around the room.
What the fuck was this?
“She… seemed like she knew me.”
The naked man finally looked up.
“Are you him?”
“Him?”
“The foretold one.”
“The harbinger.”
Felix stared.
“Ummm…”
He looked toward the woman.
“Are… you okay?”
Blood and bits of brain matter slowly ran down the side of his face.
She didn’t answer.
Felix nodded once.
“Okay.”
He backed toward the door.
“It seems like you’ve got… whatever this is… under control.”
He pointed toward the exit.
“So…”
“I’m gonna go.”
Artavus Quill 
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