A jealous, vengeful goddess. A ruined land. A woman alone, desperate to survive.
When the goddess Kogoren was betrayed by one of her worshipers, she took out her rage on her realm. In her righteous anger, she shattered the continent, raised razor-sh...
In the murky light of day, Sarka walked up the dusty road from her house to Gold Eagle's Roost. She took a familiar path past rows of dilapidated houses, ignoring the windows that stared like hollow eyes.
Once upon a time, before the Cataclysm had torn the world to pieces, those houses had been beautiful.
Once upon a time, there had been eagles, too, with golden feathers and gleaming eyes.
Once upon a time, the continent of Kogoren had been a land of plenty. It had even been green, or so they said. Sarka was too young to have seen any of these wonders and knew them only from the stories told by those who had.
When she arrived in the town square, Sarka scanned the faces of the people gathered there. They came together in the square to do what business they could in their mean circumstances. Norbon was slumped on a rock with a bundle at his feet.
Sarka made her way toward him through the dust. "Norb." She kicked a pebble. It bounced toward him over the dry ground.
Norb stirred, as if from slumber, and gave her a gap-toothed smile. "Sarka. G'morn."
She reached into her basket and produced a folded tunic, newly-mended. "Here."
He took the garment from her. He shook the fabric out and surveyed her work with a low whistle. "Prettily done."
"I have the time." Sarka glanced down at Norbon's pack. Her stomach growled.
Hearing the sound of Sarka's hunger, Norb reached into his pack and pulled out a bundle wrapped in greasy cloth-his part of their bargain. Sarka snatched it. She unwrapped the jerky and tore into it with her teeth.
"Did you hear it?" Norb asked.
"Hear what?" With a mouth still full of half-chewed meat, Sarka bit off another piece, drawing her lips back from her teeth like a dog.
"The screaming last night. It's the wildcat. Closer, now."
Sarka heard the scream again in her mind. It scratched down her back like a knife-edged claw, setting her teeth on edge. She swallowed her mouthful. "Didn't hear it," she said.
"Not much food left for 'em. They'll be coming in soon. You can stay at mine, if you like. I'd protect you."
Offers like this one came and went, and Sarka was never moved. She needed no friends, nor anything else. She did well enough on her own, so long as there were still a few people kicking around in this dying town, people who'd trade for her stitchery. Sarka crammed the rest of her jerky into her mouth and spoke around the food as she turned her back. "Bye, Norb. Have to take these britches to Perry."
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