Hillel anxiously eyed the newcomers, sweat dripping from his forehead. They radiated danger. The air changed when they approached—growing heavier by a tiny degree, like a thin blanket settling over everything.
The silver-haired woman stepped forward, her amethyst eyes catching the sunlight. Being the first woman Hillel had encountered, he hadn't expected to be struck by her beauty and strength. Her posture was rigid, her arms hanging by her sides, corded with lean muscle. He might have mistaken her for nobility if not for her athletic build.
"This'll be a pain in the ass," she muttered, eyeing Hillel warily before turning to the teen with the bucket hat. "What do you think, Yetty?"
The blondie, Yetty, nodded, a smile creeping across his face. "Yep. Ezra said he'll be back in a few hours. So... we should pack up and get moving. He'll get mad if we don't make some progress."
The silver-haired woman pursed her lips before nodding towards Hillel and Caladeus. "Get up. We're breaking down camp now."
Hillel blinked awkwardly as the group immediately dismantled the camp.
"Uh... Can I ask you guys some questions?" he asked, focusing on the silver-haired woman. She shook her head and returned to tearing down a tent.
How cold... I guess I'll ask them later, Hillel thought.
Within a few minutes, the tents were organized into rope-tied bundles, and the remaining camping supplies were stuffed into stacks. After the silver-haired woman, whose name seemed to be Gaja, delegated who carried what, they began their march through the trees. Hillel was wordlessly dragged into the labor, struggling with the canvas's unexpected weight. He'd overestimated his flimsy body—nothing but shaky limbs carrying barely any muscle.
He hadn't thought much about it before, but he was just skin and bones. Some food and water would do him good, but his mind churned with larger concerns.
First, those weird dreams bothered him in earnest. None made sense or connected to each other. Initially, he'd believed they were memories, fragments of his past, but now he wondered if they were just dreams.
But they were too vivid! He remembered every detail—the colors of clothes, the words, actions, sensations. Everything came to him crystal clear. These had to be strong memories, powerful enough to survive whatever event had caused him to be buried underground.
Second, he couldn't process the chaos of the past few hours. It had all happened so fast, reality blurring at the edges.
The old man who'd chained him up only to turn around and save him from the cyclopes. The intruder who decimated both the old man and cyclopes, seemingly without reason—or for reasons still hidden. The organ farm itself. He remembered the human slurry on the grinder, marks of something truly evil. And somehow, he was involved.
The inspector had mentioned something about him being important to his organization. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Why else would he be buried in a coffin? What purpose could he serve from beyond the grave? Nothing made sense.
Lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, Hillel almost didn't notice the strain in his arms until the heavy bundle of canvas slipped. He stumbled, catching himself just before falling, the rough material scraping his raw nerves. The effort sent dizziness washing through him. He was running on fumes and the dregs of Caladeus's strange, painful healing.
"Keep up," a sharp voice cut through his thoughts. The silent man with the cleaver, Johan, had glanced back, his dark eyes offering no sympathy, only impatience.
Hillel gritted his teeth and forced his shaky legs to move faster, focusing on the others ahead as the dense pine forest began to thin. Moments later, they emerged onto a rough dirt road cutting through the trees.
Tied to a thick, weather-beaten wooden post was their transport: a sturdy, covered wagon. It looked built for rough travel, with thick wooden wheels banded in iron and dark, oiled canvas stretched over a high, arched frame. No animals were visible; perhaps it was self-propelled, or the draft animals were elsewhere.
A collective sigh of relief passed through the group, though Hillel mainly felt thankful to stop. Caladeus and Yetty, whose full name was Lafayette, immediately dropped their bundles near the wagon's back. Johan lowered his more carefully.
Gaja surveyed the gear and wagon. "Alright," she announced crisply. "Johan, secure the provisions inside first. Caladeus, check the water levels in the secondary cask. Lafayette..." She paused, looking at the blond teen already poking at a wagon wheel with his boot, hat askew. "...Stop that and make sure the rear axle brace is tight. We don't need a breakdown."
"Right, right! On it!" Lafayette's smile didn't fade as he tilted a slight, jaunty hat towards Hillel before hurrying to the wagon wheel, leaving Hillel even more confused by this group's strange dynamics.
As Lafayette scurried away and Johan methodically secured the last crates inside, Gaja stepped into the clearing's center. She closed her amethyst eyes, hands held loosely at her sides. Hillel watched, wary.
A faint silver light emanated from the intricate beast tattoos on her right forearm. The light coalesced before her, swirling like mist gathering density. Hillel's breath caught as the mist solidified, taking shape with impossible speed. Within seconds, a creature stood where only empty air had been.
It was canine in shape but larger than any wolf Hillel could imagine, easily reaching his hip at the shoulder. Its thick pelt shimmered like spun moonlight, a pure, untarnished silver. Most striking was the single, spiraling horn, like polished ivory, protruding from its forehead. The creature blinked large, intelligent dark eyes, shook its silvery head once, and let out a silent exhale that ruffled the grass. It looked expectantly toward Gaja.
Caladeus and Lafayette didn't seem surprised, merely continuing their tasks. Johan paused only briefly before returning to lash down the final bundles. Hillel, however, stared, bewildered. Magic? Summoning? What else are these people capable of?
Gaja calmly approached the creature, stroking its neck. "Time to work, Lune," she murmured. She efficiently guided the mystical dog to the wagon's front, where Johan swiftly attached a sturdy harness to the shafts. The creature stood patiently, easily bearing the wagon's weight.
"Everyone in," Gaja commanded, gesturing toward the back.
Caladeus offered Hillel a hand up. Still weak despite the healing, Hillel needed help, awkwardly using his left arm and legs to scramble into the wagon's interior. It was functional and relatively clean, with simple wooden benches lining the sides and their bundled gear secured in the center. Lafayette clambered in after him, immediately leaning back against canvas rolls and pulling his hat lower. Johan swung himself in with practiced ease, settling near the back, his cleaver resting against the wagon wall. Caladeus sat near Hillel, while Gaja took position near the front flap after ensuring the dog was ready.
With a soft click or quiet command Hillel didn't catch, the wagon lurched into motion, pulled smoothly and silently by the horned silver dog. They bumped along the rough track, leaving the clearing and destroyed bunker behind, plunging deeper into the pine forest.
Inside the swaying wagon, the silence stretched for several minutes. Hillel watched trees slide past through gaps in the canvas, his mind reeling. Finally, Gaja spoke above the wheel rumble, though she didn't turn to look at him.
"We should reach the outskirts of Scissia before nightfall, provided Lune holds this pace," she stated calmly. Her amethyst eyes flicked toward him in the dim light. "That's where you get off."
Hillel's stomach tightened, the earlier confirmation doing little to ease his dread. He swallowed. "Why?"
Gaja turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable in the shadows. "Orders from the boss. That's all you need to know. Be ready when we stop."
She turned back to face forward, the conversation clearly over. Hillel leaned his head against the rough canvas, closing his eyes. He was healed, free from the facility, but still adrift, now heading toward an unknown city where he would be abandoned by the very people who had saved him. The questions continued to pile up, unanswered.
That was, until a sudden whooshing sound filled the air, followed by a loud bang against the back of the wagon.