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She watched Jon quickly clean the arrow in the long grasses before stowing it in his backpack. She joined him reluctantly. Before her stretched another collection of tall trees. The gentle trickle of water from where the lake pulled in its waist and flowed in a gentle meander across the grasslands was the only sound to be heard above the sighing of the gentle breeze. In the distance, more deer drank from the lake’s water. So many, her mouth dropped in shock again.

She’d never seen so many crops and plants before, not even at the end of the Long Day, when the fields were ready to be harvested with the Long Day’s bounty.

Jon was impatient. ‘Come on, Sereh. Stop dawdling.’

But she couldn’t stop looking at everything. There was more foliage than she’d ever seen, anywhere, on her people’s lands. Jon gestured at the felled deer and she bent and absent-mindedly grabbed the front legs of the beautiful, dead creature at her feet. He grabbed the back legs, and they managed to drag the surprisingly heavy body back into the cover of the trees.

Jon removed a knife from his backpack and begun to butcher the animal, the stink of blood flooding the air, turning the beauties of the place to the horrors of slaughter time. She turned away, revolted by the sight.

Walking away, so the smell was less overpowering, she found a handy rock to crouch on, and gazed at the beautiful view of rolling grasslands and thick, deep forests. It was impossible to reconcile this place with everything she knew about her existence. Life on Biklander was harsh and typically short. Emma and her people seemed to have a very different life. And it was a secret.

Time and time again, she opened her mouth to call a question to Jon, only to think better of it. She tested out different phrases in her mind, trying to determine how to make him tell her something so he’d not realise. Finally, a question slipped free.

‘Who is Emma to you and the others?’ It was evident Emma was in charge. Why, was the mystery she wanted to solve. Without looking up from his grisly task, Jon replied.

‘She’s my grandmother, on my father’s side.’ His response was quietly spoken, but firm. She almost let it go without considering the implications. But then his words registered in her confused mind. How could Emma be his grandmother? She was far too young to be the grandmother of someone as old as Jon.

‘How old are you, Jon?’ He looked at her from under his long strangling hair, sweat beaded his face.

‘How old are you?’ he countered roughly, perhaps regretting his response.

Without thought, she replied, ‘I’m eighteen rotations.’

‘Well then, I’m not much older than you. Just a year or two depending on the date of your birth.’ She huffed. That wasn’t what she meant, and he knew it.

‘How old’s Emma?’

‘Emma. I can never remember. I think she’s nearly forty years old. Why?’

‘Because you said she was your grandmother, and yet she doesn’t look old enough. Your answers have confirmed that suspicion.’ Her confused anger rose once more. What did she have to do to get a straight answer?

And then he offered one. ‘She came here a long time before me. I followed. I wasn’t supposed to, but there was little that could be done to change it, once it had happened. She wasn’t very happy back then about the whole thing. I think I’ve been forgiven now. It took years, though,’ he added. Sereh gaped at the implication in his bland statement. If Emma had come here first, when had that been? How had Jon known to find her?

‘Sereh, seriously,’ and he sat back on his knees to look at her. She noticed how the sunlight reflected on his earnest face. He was quite handsome, really. She shook her head, and listened to what he was saying to her. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t even try and work out what and who we are. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignorant of us, like the rest of your people. Let it go. Hopefully, when we get back, the Speaker will have returned, and you’ll have an idea of where Erann is. Then you can forget all about this place, and Emma, and get on with your life. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.’ His voice was kindly. She appreciated his obvious sincerity.

Still, it was impossible to ignore the richness of this place. Any of her people would kill for land this fruitful, breaking all their laws surrounding violence. It might even be possible to feed everyone with the food from this one small area. Was it the heat of the mountain that made the crops and animals grow so well? If it was, why hadn’t her people devised something similar?

Now Jon stood and took his knife and bloodied hands to a small stream, running beneath the trees.

‘Will you help me carry this back?’ he asked, pointing at the neatly butchered meat, wrapped in leaves from the surrounding trees. Even the animal skin was curled and tied with a huge leaf.

‘I suppose so,’ she replied grudgingly, not relishing the thought of going back up all those steps in the heat, carrying a heavy load. Or of crossing the narrow bridge. ‘It’s my fault you’re here after all. If it weren’t for Arrow, maybe the hares would have lasted longer?’ He chuckled at her rueful tone.

‘There’s no doubt the food would have lasted longer without Arrow. Still, I can’t begrudge the wolf-dog when there’s so much here. Come on, I’ll lend you my spare backpack. We can head back.’

Once the meat had been packed, and she swung the pack onto her back, she followed Jon’s sure steps. He led her once more out onto the meadow where the animals grazed. They walked for so long in the sticky heat, she felt the backpack rub uncomfortably on her shoulders. She wondered why they’d not left them behind when they were still exploring, and they’d have to retrace their steps to return to the caves. Only, another small cave yawned in front of them. Jon stepped inside.

‘Come on, this way back is much less dangerous, although far longer.’

‘But I left my cloak on one of the trees back there. I didn’t realise we wouldn’t be going back that way.’ She looked wistfully back the way they’d come. She might not have embraced the idea of walking through the sticky heat, but neither had she wanted to lose her fur cloak.

‘Oh, I didn’t realise. I can collect it next time. I’m sure it won’t be long before I have to return. Leave it for now. It’s not as if you need it.’

She felt uncomfortable leaving the cloak but realised there was no choice. Jon was already disappearing into yet another passageway. With a last, lingering glance at this beautiful place, she followed him, wondering where she was going now.

The journey back to the top of the mountain was long but less torturous than climbing all the steps. The passageway gently curved inside the mountain, avoiding any hot lakes, and finally, as the sun set in a dazzling display of magenta and amber, they reached Skaldi’s ledge from an opening opposite the one she’d taken before. Sereh paused, once again swept away by the beauty of her home. It was stunning, and from here, she felt as though she could reach out and touch the edges of Vatna Jokull, and step out into the sea.

With a soft sigh, she followed Jon inside and along the passageways into the common room.