[Maelstrom]

From this distance, the volcano looked like a smoking dagger thrust brutally up from the hills around it. When he had first seen it, it had been a mere dark blur on the horizon. As he had traveled closer, it had become larger and larger in his vision. Details became more distinct as time went on, like how the tangled mess of his emotions and thoughts became a little more ordered for every day that went past.

Every day was spent treking closer to the mountain. He would watch the sun rise, then walk through the day, stopping only to eat at midday, until the sun was low in the sky and he had to find somewhere safe to sleep at night. The perfect solitude suited him, as did the mostly barren landscape.

At night the tip of the mountain glowed, a giant signal fire visible for a hundred miles. He rarely slept, choosing instead to watch the distant glow and wonder what the volcano would look like when he climbed it. It was certainly better than what he might find in his dreams, or where his thoughts might wander if not guided firmly away from wounds that still ached, but had finally scabbed over.

[Maelstrom]

He had never been particularly good at navigation, he supposed. He always had to rely on someone else or a map to tell him where to go. Someone else telling him where to go - hadn't all of his life been like that, before he had died?

One wasn't supposed to be grateful for death, he knew. Mortals were meant to rage at death, fear death, do anything in their power to escape it. But him? During the weeks of his lonely isolation, he had come to a realization. Death, or rather his death and consequent rebirth were the best things to have happened to him in a long time.

If his new face had been capable of any other expression than the bony grimace it was permanently set in, he would have half-smiled.

[Maelstrom]

One night, avoiding sleep and stargazing after a filling meal of roots and berries, he gathered his strength, renewed by the food and quiet atmosphere, and removed the pouch around his neck.

It was rather unremarkable, identical to hundreds of other pouches. It was old looking, with a weathered air and made of canvas. The fabric, exposed to often to the elements, had faded so the original color was intelligable. It usually hung around his neck from a knotted cord that was in similar shape to the pouch, but it hadn't failed him yet, as so many other things had.

Loosening the fastening, he peered inside for what he knew was there. Four envelopes, each a different color. The first, spring green. The second, ocean blue. The third, rose red. And the last, coal black. He counted them mentally, ran the number and colors back and forth in his mind. Each of them meant something to him, triggered memories he wished to leave behind; one by one he would cast them into the fires of Nori Volcano, to burn to ash and be forgotton.

He just had to get there first. As soon as he reached to foothills, he had been told his guide up the mountain would meet him. He nodded to himself as he returned the pouch to his neck. Tomorrow he would meet his guide.

[Maelstrom]

Outlined by the rising sun, the blaze aries' coat burned like fire in the dawn. His species hailed from the mountains, but for him, the fire had an equally potent appeal. Cold and heat. Fire and ice. Nori Volcano was familiar territory - the only place in Evelon where his dual nature was at peace, except for his home in Eden's Hollow. He waited patiently for days for the one he was to escort up the mountain to arrive, and soon his charge should be here.

He closed his eyes, watching the red light behind his eyelids and enjoying the heat of the sun on his face.

He was paradox. Metal forged by heat and hammar, then tempered by cool water.

"I am Fornax, the constellation of the Furnace."

[Maelstrom]

The eye of the midday sun kept watch on the world when the pilgrim met his guide, after weeks of travel as the only living thing for miles. Both sized the other up, as the kasuga walked towards the aries.

To the aries, the kasuga, travel worn and haunted as he was, retained an air of recovering from some draining sickness. The ravages of a disease of the heart may still be visible, but the marks were slowly leaving him.

The kasuga was fascinated by the aries' bright coat and his quiet confidence and sureness. But it was his unmistakeable contentment, his inner peace with himself that drew him as a bee to nectar.

"I am Fornax. It is my honor to guide you."

"I - I would prefer to leave the name I wore before my death behind me. Perhaps you could call me Pilgrim."

"What pleases you is acceptable."

And thus, the two began the last leg of their journey together.

[Maelstrom]

Pilgrim quickly realized how fortunate he was to have acquired a guide, especially one as skilled as Fornax. The foothills of Nori Volcano wound in on themselves, creating countless paths like a maze. Fornax knew which ones to take - which had water, which were blocked by landslide, and which were unstable.

Each found the other to be a pleasing companion; Pilgrim preferred his own thoughts rather than speech and Fornax was an aries of few words himself. This made their travel rather silent, but companionable none the less.

[Maelstrom]

Their travel remained unbroken, their routines in place, until near evening on the fourth day. The ruddy twilight was rudely split by a strange cry - an unnatural mix between a screech, a scream and a click.

Fornax tensed at the sound. "It seems there will be an unavoidable detour."

"What is that? It's nothing I've ever heard."

"Chimerantala. They are rarely kept, except as pit fighting animals. And I do mean animals - they have little rational thought, and no morals. They are nothing more than an intelligent animal still ruled by their instincts. An animal with pincers, mandibles, and potent venom, of course."

"What do we do?"

"We drive it off. They don't usually wander so close to the Volcano, since people come here frequently. Come, we need to make camp early, and prepare."

[Maelstrom]

They spent the night huddled in a cave instead of sleeping under the sky as their usual wont. Then in the morning, Fornax lead Pilgrim around the area, scouting for traces of the beast. Every now and then he would look at an area and nod to himself in thought. Pilgrim was unperturbed by the delay - his intentions had taken weeks to crystalize and his journey had given him the time to shape those intentions, sharpen them into new purpose.

In the afternoon, the two gathered material and set traps. Only once more did they hear the chimerantala's jarring cry, and its presence hovered in their minds.

[Maelstrom]

The first trap the two concocted was a rockside engineered at a choke point between two hills. Lacking adequate materials, and considering the difficulty and low success rate of complex traps, it had been an obvious choice. Pilgrim and Fornax pushed loose boulders up the hills the afternoon before in order to create it. Now that it was ready, the only thing that remained was to find the beast.

Unlike the trap, this was not so easily done. Pilgrim, having never encountered one of the beasts, was useless therefore at tracking it, and the burden fell to Fornax. Starting early in the morning, the partners quarted the hills where they had last found traces of the beast. An hour before midday the two encountered a trail that was fresh.

[Maelstrom]

Increasing their pace, the two followed the trail for a ways before stumbling upon the remains of the beast's last meal. It was a gruesome sight and a reminder to the two of what their opponent was capable of. Putting it from their minds, they continued on.

Finally, they came around a bend in the trail, only to find the chimerantala had taken refuge in a cave, presumably to rest since its appetite was now sated.

Both knew that it was suicide to try and disturb the creature when it was in such an enclosed space; they would have to wait until it came out where they had room to manuver away from its tail and pincers.

[Maelstrom]

Pilgrim and Fornax settled in to wait in a hollow a short distance away. They rested, napped, and finished the remain's of last night's foraging, since they dared not leave to area to look for food.

"The sun sets. Today's opportunity to face the beast goes with it. We had best find a more secure place to spend the night."

Pilgrim followed Fornax away from their hollow to set up camp by a spring. They collected water for their supplies, and proceded to take advantage of the rare opportunity to bathe the spring's availability gave them.

The water was clear and a little chilly as Fornax waded in. Beside him, Pilgrim ducked under the water until only his antlers showed, then surfaced with a great splash. Fornax snorted, and splashed Pilgrim back. The two enjoyed their water fight until both were clean of dirt and grime, and exhausted. Then they climbed back onto the gravel and lay down to sleep.

[Maelstrom]

Pilgrim knew he must have dreamed during the night, for he woke in the morning with a vague feeling of uneasiness. But he remembered nothing of any dreams, and tried to shake off his foreboding as he and Fornax ate their morning meal.

Later, when the two returned to the cave, his efforts had mostly paid off, and he felt focused and ready.

Later, he would wish that he had not dismissed his feelings so easily

[Maelstrom]

From the mouth of the now empty cave, the trail of the creature twisted and turned. The skitter of loose pebbles and the clicking of its limbs on stone were the only sounds that warned them of its closeness.

Behind a rock outcropping, they stopped to observe the chimerantala. In Pilgrim's opinion, the eerie scream matched the beast perfectly. It looked like a a madman had taken pieces of a spider, a preying mantis, and a scorpion and then stitched them together with the intent to create a living weapon.

Fornax whispered in his ear, "We need to get the beast to follow us."

"I have an idea that might work."

[Maelstrom]

"On the count of three. One...two...GO!"

The pair leapt from their hiding place with loud bellows and bugles. The creature turned, its attention immediately attracted. It screamed at them, rearing back to threaten with its pincers. They darted around either side of it, not attacking but making the beast nervous. It swatted at them, trying to stab with either pincers or poisonous scorpion tail, but they darted away, daring it to follow. It hesitated, then took a few steps forward, still trying to catch them.

Pilgrim grinned. They had the beast hooked, now all they had to do was lure it to their trap.

[Maelstrom]

Finally they neared their goal. Both Pilgrim and Fornax's coats were covered with a layer of rock dust, caked thickly on. Fornaxs' bright coat was dimmed and Pilgrim's was more grey than green. They panted and gulped air, but could not slip an inch in the fragile game they played with the chimerantala. Its low intelligence ensured that it thought of nothing beyond its anger and annoyance, but it too was tiring.

Both put on a final burst of speed, scrambling up the steep sides of their bottleneck trap, careful not to slip on any loose scree. The creature paused, confused. Where had its prey gone?

The two in question had reached their places. Not pausing long enough for the creature to move, Pilgrim and Fornax each threw their weight on a pile of boulders perched precariously near the edge. They held for a moment, then teetered and fell.