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The northern path

A small tent in the middle of the wilderness against the frozen lumbering mass of winter. Only a slight haze of purple lingered on the southern edge of the horizon even though it wasn't long past noon. Martin rested on his back wrapped up in his sleeping bag, looking up on the canvas, weak and lost in his thoughts.

They made it through the north, but delayed. Winter arrived upon them, pressing even as they steadily progressed southwest. Snow, snow, and even more snow was all they saw since months. They ran out of supplies. They could hunt, but they were past their greens with no chance to replenish. Deprivation, the hints of scurvy was already upon them. Terry endured it better, or it seemed so. He asked him to go hunting this time despite his uneasiness. He needed rest.

Why were they going?

Where were they heading?

He pondered, but sometimes he felt he couldn't answer anymore. Fleeing from a certain demise towards a less certain one. Delaying the inevitable.

There was no future there. Shortages were only growing the more common. His old friend he knew since settling in the town, Terry, was an engineer at the woodcutters. He was meant to maintain their gear and vehicles. But it seemed like a few years and there wasn't any reason anymore to maintain them for there was no fuel to run them.

And him? He was already a rogue, a poacher by then. He lost his job, ending up with her. Tayga, with whom they saved each other.

She wasn't his wife even though it probably passed Terry's mind if they were indeed in such a relation. Martin never married as he never quite found his place. Except for one thing. He was a zookeeper. And Tayga was a huge snowrunner.

* * *

These beasts were large, their shoulder rising higher than a man's head, and they only appeared even larger for their long but robust neck and tail. They were the fearsome, gruesome white shadows of the cold north with countless horrid stories of men caught and buried alive in their neck-pouch, to be consumed days later at their convenience. They were known to be very intelligent and even capable to show compassion, but were also regarded uncontrollable, unpredictable with many accidents, frequently fatal.

Yet she accepted him. Maybe for they were about the same age, and she was alone. They were known to be solitary, but exhibited immense boredom and other apparent mental problems in captivity, impossible to remedy.

Direct handling of these gargantuan carnivores was generally prohibited, the few zoos holding them were equipped with proper locking systems to completely eliminate the need for it, however the town was already falling apart when Martin arrived. Nobody cared, and he could meticulously establish contact with her without being mauled.

He wasn't afraid of locking himself in with her at nights. There were a few accidents, a few serious wounds, but he understood, and she learned to be gentle with him, very much seeking out for his companionship. He grew attached to her, not heeding when later due to the shortages her rations were cut. She was clearly hungry, yet managed to restrain herself. Martin could see it, he could see how she fights with her urge to hunt to prevent hurting him. Her intelligence was astounding. She was aware of herself. She deliberately drove Martin out of her exhibit before feeding after an accident when she mauled him in a frenzy. She learned to wait herself to calm down before calling him in again.

That was also about when Martin started poaching with Terry's consent in the less trodden regions of the forest. It baffled him, but he accepted, seeing he wasn't seeking for opportunities for himself.

It didn't last for long. A few years, and the complete dismantling of the zoo was announced. Martin collapsed, Terry scooped him up from a pub. He spent his nights with Tayga who became outright dangerous. Her clock was ticking away. The butchery, for the carnivores, a bullet in the skull. She couldn't know, but she sensed Martin's turmoil.

One morning they found a huge segment of the old, unmaintained exhibit destroyed, with neither Tayga, nor Martin anywhere near town. The latter was a mystery for only Tayga's traces could be observed, leading far away, past the northern boundary of the forest. It only made it more mysterious that two days later Martin's small apartment was broken in, the traces of the burglar again leading far north where nobody dared to follow them. These just didn't piece together in any sane manner.

It could have ended here, an unsolved mystery, but for Terry the thread continued. A month later he received a letter from Martin whom he thought deceased, asking for a meet by a spring on the edge of the forestry. He thought it a bad joke until checking for footprints around his small hut revealed a fresh trace heading north.

Martin, in flesh and blood, was indeed there, alone, quite worn, but seemingly in adequate health. He refused to uncover how he ended up there, only admitting he was living with Tayga. After Terry got past his initial shock, they discussed some, agreeing in some trade of supplies, ending up mentioning the Shiriats, a lunacy as far as Terry was concerned, to pass north of the Burani Sea to reach their supposed established nation.

A lunacy, maybe. But that was also a small lunacy what was going on in town, with the woodcutting as far as he was concerned. There was no fuel. There were no alternatives. If they had oxen, they wouldn't have had hay for them. And so they saw the most severe firewood shortage they ever had, coupled with major shortages of anything else fitting to fire the stoves and furnaces. Many died that winter due to the cold. The warmongery on the south took its toll on the hinterland.

Martin however lived, worn by the harshness of winter, but was still there in Spring, along with Tayga who was seemingly still attached to him.

Terry had it enough then. There was no sanity in governance, there was nothing to rely upon, and he knew he could end up enrolled if he took any other path than the lunacy of the north towards those lands taken by the aliens he barely knew.

They waited only until they could acquire adequate supplies and then they set out for it, leaving all behind.

* * *

Terry didn't get along well with her.

Hours passed. Martin laid on his back, contemplating under the canvas. He was weak. But he should have gone hunting. If anything happened, Tayga would have been there with him. But he already missed that train.

He could only hope for the best.

It was very late when he heard the familiar faint but heavy crunches of snow under the snowrunner's webbed feet as she approached the camp. He started to scoop himself up to welcome her, expecting to meet Terry first in the tent. The outside however remained silent apart from the faint breaths. Where was him?

For a brief moment it passed his mind whether it was a wild beast making him preparing his gun, but he dropped that possibility. He knew her footsteps and that any other of her kin wouldn't lay idle near his tent. With a bit of caution he stepped outside.

Drops of blood along her tracks. He noticed them even before he looked up her, resting by the side of the tent, alone. Traces of red stained her jowls, running down her neck onto a very much filled pouch. Martin gazed at his companion bewildered for moments before realizing she at least needed medical attention.

Seeing the task at hand, as usual, he prepared for cleaning and attending the wound proper. She simply wasn't like an animal even seeking for care herself, something very unusual and very convenient in this harsh world where she received injuries occasionally. It didn't appear severe so he swiftly rekindled their fire to boil water to somewhat sterilize some piece of cloth he intended to use, until then he approached her to examine.

He gently stroked her which she returned with small touches of her tongue, then felt for her hanging jowl, the red stains to locate their source. A small, circular hole still oozing. A bullet.

Tayga was shot. Terry wasn't anywhere. An absolutely no mans land many dozen miles north of that rumored to be taken by the Shirirat. What the hell happened?!

Her filled pouch. It dawned upon him. He immediately toned down his shock. Keep calm and clear. Could be the first rule of handling dangerous animals. "Terry, are you in there?" Movements, a muffled reply choked by a tight contraction. He gently stroked Tayga's neck hoping to coax her to loosen. He couldn't know what happened, but it was serious and Tayga was too intelligent to be ignored. Martin was perfectly sure she remembered and was completely aware of Terry being there. He had to comfort her first.

First, he had to treat her wound like normal. He quickly assessed the immediate situation realizing the hunt succeed, her distended belly resting before her lazily stretched out hind legs. She was full. Her body was content, waiting for him to relieve her from the nuisance of her injury. There was time.

He managed to get her loosen a bit. He urged Terry to stay idle no matter what, not heeding his protests which Tayga choked in him anyway by her agitated contractions. He continued examining her wound, realizing the bullet only damaged fat and some minor veins as it entered from a flat angle, dampened out by the soft tissue of her thick dewlap. He heated forceps deciding on removal. Tayga jolted but endured without any movement to harm him. It was out, a bullet from the small handguns they both carried. He left the wound open, the slight bleeding cleaning it, nothing for the gargantuan beast. He comforted her gently massaging, rubbing away blood stains. She rested her muzzle on his shoulder making him feel her pleasant warm exhales.

One long, one slightly shorter. A small fraction of every second exhale diverted into her filled pouch, keeping the prey alive and fresh for later, which unfortunate prey was his friend.

* * *

"Stay idle, remain calm. Don't move." He commanded Terry as he managed to slowly coax Tayga into loosening. She was agitated but her body was pleased which helped, comforting her from the inside wishing to just rest, to laze, to slacken every muscle. He kept working on her caressing, seeing how it calmed her, her pouch settling limp in the snow, and he could discern its upper end slightly expanding and collapsing, a cycle repeating for every second breath.

Terry tried to talk. He could make out the first word, but what followed died out by a sudden contraction. "Tayga, no. Rest, just rest. Calm. It's okay." He laid in the snow allowing her to lay her muzzle on his torso.

He was unsure of what to do. Tayga trusted him. He probably could sneak on her to deliver a swift fatal shot in her skull to save Terry for the moment. But he loathed even the thought of that. They would die without her. She cared for them. She even saved them from a pack of hungry howlers, and she didn't do that merely by instinct. She was intelligent, a true companion, understanding many things better than he anticipated. She was his friend just as much as Terry, probably even more. He couldn't bear the though of doing such an insidious deed to her.

If only he was there on that hunt! But he couldn't change that.

She had her own mind on the thing. He could only coax her to slacken, to laze, to buy some time. He had to play his role in her game if he wanted to keep Terry alive.

It was late, she was full, and despite her uneasiness she was sleepy, her body, every sense of her called for a pleasant rest. She was in control and Martin knew she was aware of it. He remained by her side until she seemingly dozed off, then returned into the solitude of the tent to try to think, to devise something.

All he could put his hopes in was her intelligence. She was aware of Terry. She knew well they were friends. Whatever happened, for her to return in this manner to him was cruel if she really intended to devour him. He hoped she didn't really want to do that. At least he knew she could release. But he really wasn't sure how they worked, whether she might forget whatever she had in her mind and devour him. He had to coax her to release as soon as possible.

Weakness. He laid on his back staring the canvas. Death which they could evade until now. It could still be many hundred miles until the nearest settlement if there was even any.

A rustle. He forgot to zip up the tent's door. The large white head. She came to rest by his side, her exhales soon building up tangible warmth in the enclosed place despite the sizable gaps by her neck. He stroked her. He realized they could hardly have some peace together since the start of their journey, maybe except on the hunts. He dropped off the heaviest of his clothes as she tickled him with the tips of her tongue in a pleasant, playful manner.

They gently teased each other. Her wound broke open spilling some blood, but Martin ceased to care apart from trying to soak it up in a single cloth, preventing it staining the interior. He groomed her, massaged her soft spots which she enjoyed in delight, almost as if she just gulped down Terry to safely put him aside, an obstacle between her and Martin. Occasionally she raised her head slightly and lashed out her tongue on the side onto the blood stained cloth, the taste seemingly blissful to her, oblivious of its source.

She slowly dozed off laying on her side, occasionally still flicking tongue even in her dream, still swallowing little bits like if she had something to eat. Martin kept softly stroking her until reaching down to the pouch, resting completely slackened mostly outside of the tent.

* * *

"Calm. She is asleep. Are you okay? What happened?"

Terry responded weakly.

"Hell no! Martin! Why don't you do anything! I am dying here!"

"Are you injured? Did she maul you? Pain?"

"Martin, you idiot, I am inside her! She is gonna digest me!"

"Damn Terry, calm down! Seriously, is there any immediate problem?"

"Apart from these being my last hours if you aren't going to put her down, sure, no."

"Terry, they don't digest in their pouch. I am here. Rest, stay calm, and she won't choke you either. Be patient. I will try to get you released next day."

"Martin, you can't do this to me! Can you imagine what it is like to be here?!"

"I can. I was in her before."

He briefly explained, finally revealing the mystery of his disappearance from town. He was with Tayga that night, he wanted to be with her, but couldn't bear her gentle teasing trying to cheer him up. It was only days until she was to be killed. He pushed her muzzle aside, repeatedly. He lost control, something he shouldn't have done in the proximity of her, he cried out, stood up to yell, to curse the world.

It confused her ending up causing her to attack. She pinned him down, tore off some of his clothes before gulping him down. He almost panicked, but what followed appalled him even more.

"Terry, it is one thing to be down there. I knew I was in the zoo. She wasn't fed since a while. I expected her to rest and devour me. But she didn't remain idle! I felt her immense strength as she repeatedly pranced and rammed against something. I knew she was attempting to demolish her exhibit! Can you imagine what it is like to see a disaster happening and you can't do anything to avert it?! Seriously, if I had any weapon, we wouldn't be here now! I felt when the fence gave way and I prepared for the worst. But she didn't go rampaging in town! A long steady march, her motions cradled me. It was peace. I didn't care about myself. She broke out and fled without bloodshed."

Terry remained silent for a while. Then, slowly, he started.

"Damn Martin... I... Just please do whatever you can without harming her. I didn't follow your directions. I tried to take a thigh of that elk. Hell, no, I mean it. I fired a warning shot... I couldn't imagine she was so swift and direct. She disarmed me, I was pinned before I could realize what happened. I drew my handgun but missed, she immediately snapped on my wrist, the coat dampened it, but I dropped the gun. She pulled and threw me, ripping off my clothes. I tried to escape using my knives, but failed. I have bruises. I had only my lighter when she ate me. I could light it, burning her gullet. I fell. She squeezed the air out of me. She constricted me until you came. Hell..."

"Shit. She still kept you alive. Your shot didn't miss... It isn't anything serious, but it didn't miss either. Do you have anything serious?"

"I don't think so. Thirst. I am nearly pissing myself. Can I do anything to help my case here?"

"Drink her saliva. Piss yourself. Seriously, she wouldn't notice. The pouch is for keeping prey fresh, it works this way, her fluids would wash things away. Don't stress. But she feels you inside. She knows you are there. Try to comfort her once she awakens."

"Martin... You can't say..."

"That's what you can do. I was in her for almost two days before she released me, and I wasn't always sure whether she remembered I was filling her. And then she was hungry. Now she isn't. And I am also here. But she may not release you solely for my sake. You have to tell her you are sorry."

* * *

Martin laid on his back watching the canvas above. On his left rested Tayga on her side, her soft and warm underside facing him tempting to cuddle against in the cold, yet he didn't for her still unstable wound, only pushing his hand under her dense fur. He hoped Terry could also have some rest.

Warmth. He shivered. He realized part of him very much wanted to switch places with him. He was utterly scared back then. But for the body it was pleasant. If Tayga slackened herself, he could so much be there, enjoying that blissful warmth. Without the constraints of half of his mass in clothes. Without any clothes at all. Just to groom her on the inside, to be with her, to be almost part of her.

Sleep conquered him floating in these thoughts. He couldn't help it. She was unique. Their relationship was unique. He loved Tayga, not like a human being, but for what she was.

* * *

After the night at least by the clock, she was still laying there. Martin raised on his elbows realizing the interior of the tent was still rather pleasant for her warmth. He checked her jowl, feeling the area of the wound, seeing the blood congealed sufficiently clogging it. She was awake, just resting, appreciating the gentle strokes.

She then pulled herself out for a huge yawning stretch outside, which Martin used to prepare himself for the chill. He had to devise something to get Terry out, then they would continue their march helped with Tayga's new energy. They had to. Nutritional deprivation was taking its toll on them except for her.

He started rekindling their fire out of habit, to make some tea which thankfully they still had before realizing he had a blocking problem to solve. Even Tayga herself showed the impression of being in quite a trouble.

She laid upright by the tent, her filled slackened pouch resting between her forelegs, looking at Martin confused. The usual routine wasn't there, there was nobody packing up equipment preparing her harness. She however also appeared somewhat pleased. Martin then realized mild motions inside her, apparently teasing her! Terry was doing his part!

That was his chance. And he got a wicked idea which he believed would do the trick.

He approached her starting to gently work on her neck which she appreciated. Slowly he progressed upwards to the head, rubbing the back of her skull behind her ears, returning to her jaws. Lost in her sensations, she closed her eyes, submitting to the bliss. For minutes he didn't stress anything, just caressing her as usual, allowing her to drift forgetting about reality. Terry gently contributed from the inside still playing his role without asking. He couldn't know what he thought, how long he would keep up, so he concentrated on her to see when he could begin with his idea.

Then he started slowly moving onto the line of her mouth with occasional, seemingly accidental but intentional gentle strokes, teasing. She flicked tongue. He made sure his clothes weren't too tight so she could reach his face and chest. He kept on his work, when she slightly opened, even briefly thrusting his hand in. He directed her snout towards his face to lean against its tip, pushing his fingers in the soft underside as he softly grabbed on her lower jaws.

If he didn't know her, he would have thought it sheer lunacy. Yet he did it. He tried to coax her into eating him, however it would work out. He slowly slid his face lower on her nose, feeling her tongue touching his chest and chin. Then it happened. The mouth opened to gently lock on his upper torso and a moment later his head was in her throat. He let himself lean against her, his fingers still digging in her furry folds on the underside, still massaging her. But she stopped.

All of sudden she raised almost leaving Martin tipping over. He could see her utter confusion, occasionally sharing a glance with him, an occasional flick of the tongue, totally clueless. Then, just as sudden, she turned away, stood up and retched.

* * *

They packed up in silence.

Even Tayga remained silent accepting strokes but without showing much emotion.

Tricked? Betrayed? Martin couldn't know, he couldn't decide. For now he could save them. He resolved to never let Terry go hunting with her no matter how sick he was.

They ambled through the dead forest without a word. The few deciduous trees they could spot were good signs. They were leaving the worst of the north, but it was winter and they couldn't know how far they would have to go until they reached any inhabited place. They didn't even see footprints of men since many months. Despite the screwed up hunt, they still had some meat from an earlier one which they decided to ration until Tayga made another hunt necessary.

The routine returned. Late, judged rather by their mental clock than the nonexistent daylight they set up camp, made their roast, conversed a bit mostly avoiding what happened on the hunt, then put themselves aside for the night. The morning the fire was rekindled for some tea while they packed up, and they were on the go again.

Terry, apart from avoiding Tayga even more than before remained normal, at least normal for a tired weary traveler of the north. Martin showed faint symptoms of scurvy, weakness, yet he trudged on. He tried to dismiss the slight changes in Tayga's attitude.

On the surface she didn't appear much different to what they knew before. She even seemed to show more compassion towards Martin than usual but that rather began with his worsening weakness. On occasions however she passed a glance, an eerie spark, a slight tongue flick towards him, so subtle he wasn't even sure whether he was only hallucinating them.

He wished to have some time with her alone, just to comfort her, still worrying whether the events upset her in some manner, but he could neither just leave Terry. At least not until the next hunt.

* * *

He could barely stand straight after the day's march by then.

Hunt. He had to go. Terry could spend all the time resting in the tent, and he had to be on the move so they progressed.

Tayga was gentle. At least she was gentle and allowed him to lay on her back. He left it to her just holding onto her fur. She didn't yet make her own kill, but could certainly find prey fitting her, and the more often, it was her who signaled the presence of something worthy.

Hours passed with her steadily trotting through the wilderness. They were snowrunners for a reason. When hunting for large game, they could just keep their modest pace, their repeated assaults until their prey collapsed. Before noon she was clearly on the trail of something and it wasn't long until she could approach it. A tundra elk, a good fill for her stomach, probably enough so she would share. As soon as she was sufficiently near, Martin halted her, armed his gun and shot.

She knew it well, not even jolting for the thunder despite the accidents with Terry. It was Martin with her and it was just part of their hunt.

Martin was cautious to let her approach, staying back as she fed lest he should remind her anything from before. It was indeed a good fill and he was delighted to see her leaving a thigh untouched, not even gulping it down into her pouch like she occasionally did with food she shared just like if they were her cubs.

She rested by the remnants, licking her chops for a while, swallowing, letting her pouch notably slacken and contract a few times. It started to become unusual. Then again that eerie glance. She turned towards Martin.

He understood.

She remembered and expected him. He could only hope she didn't mean it by its full weight. But she still was his friend, and he, probably unintentionally, made a promise to her.

He put down his weapons, then his coat as well. He would bear the cold, it wouldn't be long anyway. He approached and set his palm on her jaw stroking it. She didn't start right away. She rested her muzzle on her shoulder, allowing him to groom her, the soft furry underside of her neck, the thick folds. He felt her exhales, her pleasant warmth which was about to engulf him.

Slowly she pulled back, offering him her jaws, the thick jowls. Martin kept massaging her, digging his fingers in her features. He knew his part. Little by little he approached the line of her mouth, his caressing returned by gentle flicks of her tongue. He removed his shirts to let her access him, and very soon she covered his back from the cold by the warm confines of her mouth. He let his trousers drop off, keeping on grooming her dewlap until she started her swallows.

He felt himself rising from the ground, his bare shin and feet still outside, exposed to the bitter cold, but her gently massaging muscles pulled him in soon, as if even she was aware of his weakness against the chill. It was a bliss when he could finally pull his legs in and she closed her mouth.

Warmth. The ripple of her muscles, the gullet. He remembered from before. Now he wasn't scared. He wasn't sure if she would ever let him out, but trusted her and dismissed those thoughts. He didn't want to think about those.

It was a welcoming surprise as he slid to rest in her pouch. She didn't contract at all. He could feel himself settling to sit between her forelegs as the confines gently curled him up, his feet against her clavicles, the knees pressing on her neck, and there was an ample pocket of warm air in front of him. The monotonous thuds of her heart were the only sound he heard. He reached out to rub the walls, to feel her flesh beyond, to continue caressing her from the inside.

She moved to lay on her side, gently rocking Martin. It was a blissful position. He stretched his limbs, pushing against her features before coming to rest on his side, facing her, small motions, rubbing her with his feet and hands which he believed she enjoyed.

If he could just stay there! The harsh outside, the chill winter felt so distant! Soft thuds, warmth, silence, serenity, peace. Her saliva like a sea of origins engulfing him. She was so calm! He knew she fell asleep, her entire being slackened in the soft pillow of snow, he could so envy her to be able to live in this world! But he was part of her. He felt she protected her. He felt safe.

He drifted away to the land of dreams along with her.

* * *

Sudden crass motions shook him awake. She contracted over him. He scared before realizing she stood, retching, pushing him out. But why so soon and so abruptly?!

He plopped off onto the unwelcoming cold snow, all soggy. She immediately curled around him protectively, pushing him against the loose folds covering her pouch which contained him mere moments before. Having nothing better, he wriggled and rubbed himself against her fur.

Then he noticed.

An odd pair of creatures were approaching, a rider and his steed, a slender red furred being on the back of his yellow, black striped companion, both sharing a doglike visage with characteristic large pointed ears. Shiriats, or at least the rider was one of them.

Embarrassment. He tried to fish out his clothes from under the massive bulk of the snowrunner. To meet the alien race they wanted to flee to in a single soggy garment, his underpants in the middle of this snow covered wilderness was something he wouldn't ever expect to happen. The mental image formed in his head as he stood there, shivering, covering himself with nothing but his vast companion's folds as he tried to explain! Utter ridicule! Yet he was up to his ears in it!

"Er, Hello. E'erything okay?"

The Shiriat spoke as he descended, an unusual accent, but understandable. Martin was still in shock, unable to answer.

"Sorry, guess ee interrutted you here in sonthing. Ee 'atched and thought you 'ere in danger."

Martin was fighting with his clothes and his shivering to be able to come off from his companion's cover. He noticed the yellow beast's interest in Tayga, clearly looking and making slight movements towards her until she recoiled. It was much smaller than her, but unusual and certainly more agile than her in need.

"Eh, no, totally no! We are companions!... We are seeking refuge."

The Shiriat studied them intently for a few moments while his steed continued its attempts in approaching Tayga. It was merely a few dozen yards away, and she started to show interest on her own as it sat on its haunches, leaving its long tail spreading away towards her, limp except for its tip, a fluffy tuft gently waving back and forth. The Shiriat emitted a seemingly unintelligible chirp which it promptly retorted with a similar sound and a frown.

"Er, 'orgiee her interest. You're 'elcone is you can earn your stay. She's a good haul."

He clearly referred to the snowrunner who crawled a bit forth towards the yellow beast, just flicking out her tongue towards her teasing tuft. Martin, finally standing firm, sternly responded.

"No. She is free and she stays so."

"Nay, I say it's sor 'oth o' you together is she is 'illing to do. Ee need strenght at the logging, and she has 'tlenty to earn 'oth o' your 'tlaces."

"You mean it's a job offer?"

"Sort o'. You join a connune led ay shiriat, cyat, hunan, you choose, all 'elcone her strength. Er, I 'ay suggest us, hunan sreak out o' this quirk o' yours. Ee knou, it 'tasses at us okay."

Suddenly he emitted that chirp again, just as Tayga and the yellow beast nuzzled over her tuft. She turned briefly aside for a retort, and ceased to care about him as they continued. Martin stepped by her side to stroke her for which she broke contact to settle by him, ignoring the playful Shiriat steed's last tickle with her tail as she stood up to return to her companion, gently nipping on his ear among with a faint chirp.

"Er, guess it already 'tasses all too 'ell at her. She'd enjoy getting to knou her."

Martin felt confused, the sleep within Tayga still not clearing up entirely from his mind, still shocked by the sudden impulse of meeting the Shiriat. He however knew he didn't have many options as they fled especially to their land.

"Okay, we will go with you. I have a human friend in our camp whom we must pick up. How far we are? We are dieing for some proper food."

The Shiriat shortly asked him to stay hopping on his yellow steed, poking a bit around in a bag on her harness for a small box of which he pulled off a long antenna. He stood on her back, and she slowly started pacing around, sharing chirps until apparently they found sufficient reception on a nearby mound. He chirped into the box, oddly similar to that he used to communicate with his steed, making Martin wonder whether even she actually spoke some variant of their apparent language.

"I got it arranged. Ee 'tick your sriend ut today and head south till late. Next noon a train 'ill 'ait us at the end o' our northern logging line."

So it was. Seeing the Shiriat on the back of his companion, Tayga naturally followed, allowing Martin on herself just like she did earlier that day. They started a swift but pleasant place following the snowrunner's earlier track towards Terry, keeping side by side, the two large girls.

The Shiriat's unusually accented words faded over the snow covered wilderness as they passed away.

"Just thirty niles, good dinner in the e'ening, rest in 'tleasant 'eds... Er, I guess you 'ont need any 'eds..."