We began the final stretch early in the morning. Delicate snowflakes still fell in light intensity. We walked softly on the snow in the open fields. Leif was ecstatic at the chance to see snow; it was his first time seeing it after all. He threw snowballs, kicked up small bursts of misty snow, and even ran ahead of us to draw in it. His latest drawing was a dog composed of two circles for the head and body and four lines for the legs.

  Walking up to Leif’s masterpiece, I said, “Wow, Leif. You should think about specializing in snow art.”

  “Why should I specialize in something I’m already a master at?” Leif said, scoffing at my attempted compliment.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Dad added. He reached down and crunched a bundle of snow in his hand, “I haven’t seen snow in a while. Not since you were very young, Ezra.” he said, turning his attention away from Leif’s art. “Also, how was your time last night?”

  “It was nice. I met some cool people, and I hope to meet up with them again on the way back.” I said, failing to mention that Alice and I were the cause of the snow. it was generally looked down upon to affect the weather unless it was a rare situation where it was warranted. Seeing as it was a light snow at the end of winter, I’d say we’re fine as long as we didn’t make a habit out of it, I thought.

  Shaman’s are a people of nature; we contain the capability to manipulate the world around us, but most respect it too much to push the limits. We treat nature as the author of both prophecy and history; it is the roots grounding the gray tree. As my dad has always said: Shaman’s are the king’s gardeners, we’re here to tend to the garden; we try not to interfere with its politics.

  Leif ran ahead of us again. He found the line where the snow began and ended and stood between it like he was at the border of two countries. Beyond the snow, greenery flourished in full view. Animals grazed in boxed pastures. It took my eyes time to adjust to the new brightness. In the distance I could see a dense forest: it lined the horizon up until the middle, where a broad path led to the village. Charlotte had talked about the forests surrounding Y’serak’s village the other night. How beautiful it was. Given just a Moment's glimpse, I could see what she meant.

  “What a gorgeous view,” Mom said. “The path leads to the village like a royal castle.”

  “I’ll say,” Dad responded. “We’ll be there in about two hours. We’ll take the rest of the day to recoup at our cabin, then we’ll visit Y’serak’s totem tomorrow.”

  “Alright,” Leif and I responded in unison.

  It’s weird, I thought, I’m so excited to visit, and yet something doesn’t feel right. After today, I’ll have visited every town in The Horizon. The five towns will be under my belt. So what does that mean? The Horizon is big, sure, but from now on, won’t it only get smaller? When I’m eighty, will the only thing left to explore be blades of grass?

  But, there are also reasons to stay. Last night: the food, the town, the people I met; it was all so surreal. After the ritual, we walked back into town and sat down at the benches again. It was pitch black outside by then, so the city was barren. Alice asked when I’d be coming back and offered to meet at the hill again. I said I’d be there, and we parted separate ways. That was a reason to stay.

  I wondered, do you think Alice has asked the same questions I have? How everyone seems content with being trapped in a circle. How we can't even ask questions about the outside world, and how no one seems to know an answer if you do. Did I miss some universal class on how to squelch this curiosity? Or at least how to not be driven insane by them?

  I don’t know.

  -

  Mom had been coughing during yesterday’s walk. She had gone to bed right as we arrived at our cabin, but it didn’t stop her cough from progressing. Dad stood at her bedside caressing her hand. He gave her water and placed a plate with bread and fruit beside her. Leif and I stood at the door awaiting Dad’s conclusion.

  Dad turned to us and said: “It’s a pretty bad fever. She might be bedridden for a few weeks. I’m going to go seek a doctor. As for Y’serak’s totem, we’ll have to wait until Mom has mostly recovered unless you two would like to visit it on your own.”

  “I say we wait for her,” I said. Leif agreed.

  “Alright,” Dad said, “while I tend to your Mom, you two should go explore the town. There are a lot of things to see. Just don’t go too far in the woods. There’s a lot of dangerous wildlife in there: panthers, snakes, bears, etc. You’ll see a creek running through the woods, (it leads to Zuhgora Lake), Ezra, make sure to not cross that creek. Not far beyond it, wildlife roam freely. Do you understand?”

  “Got it,” I said, giving a firm nod.

  I grabbed my bag and closed the door behind me, Leif was already at the bottom of the cabin steps. The road was much broader than in The Bind and much less dense with people too. Despite the visit to Y’serak’s totem being delayed, I was still excited to explore the city. The day prior we were all tired from the day-long journey, so once we arrived we stayed inside.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Rounding a corner, Leif stood at a four-way intersection: people and horses walked past him as he waited for me to catch up. He kept looking to his left down the intersection, and then back at me.

  Once I arrived, I saw what he’d been looking at: the woods. The road had a few houses that lined the sides of the pavement; it eventually cut off at the end, opening up to the dense forest. The houses and pavement looked more beaten up than the others we had seen: it looked abandoned.

  Leif looked up at me and said: “Ezra, you know how Mom picks fresh herbs for medicine when we were sick?”

  “Yeah? What about it?” I said.

  “What if we did that for her? Could we go pick some herbs in the forest for Mom and then explore the town later?” I was stunned by the question. Leif had always been a caring kid. I remember times when he would share his toys with his friends when he was only three. Mom always told me about how I would yell and cry if someone took any of my toys. That was something my parents and natural maturity had to teach; but not Leif, he was born with love, he understood.

  “Sure, Leif. Just remember what Dad said: don’t cross the creek, alright? I don’t want to have to carry you back in separate pieces.”

  “Understood, Mr. Ezra.”

  Whenever we were sick, Mom always picked a selection of fruits and herbs to help us recover: Elderberries, White Button Mushrooms, Cinnamon, etc; her favorite being Licorice Root. She served it in a majority of ways: her favorite being combining it in tea - though it was tough to get down at times.

  Walking past the first trees, I said: “I’m not sure what we’ll find out here, Leif, but we can definitely still look.

  We got lucky with the White Button Mushrooms and Elderberries: Leif found a small patch of the mushrooms beside a damp log, and I found a tree abundant with Elderberries. I placed them in a pocket in my bag. We continued searching as we walked deeper into the forest.

  Leif walked back with something cupped in his hands, “Ezra, I found strawberries!” He said, revealing his hands full of strawberries and placing them in my bag. “I also found some Licorice Root, that’s Mom’s favorite, right?”

  “It is! Where is it?” I said.

  Leif pointed to a thick underbrush ahead of us, he didn’t offer any other response. Jagged, moss-covered branches covered all sight beyond it. As we walked through it we had to duck below branches and push bushes aside. I turned and said, “Leif, I was gone not even thirty seconds picking those mushrooms. How did you manage to get through this and back? Besides, why didn’t you pick the Licorice Root?” Leif looked disappointed as we crawled out of the underbrush. He pointed forward again.

  I instantly understood why he hadn’t picked the Licorice Root: it was on the other side of the creek. But not just right across, it was barely in view. The creek only went ankle-deep at its deepest point. Smooth rocks covered the creek. I stood and listened intently. The water didn’t move. The whole creek was dead quiet. So quiet I could hear my heartbeat.

  Nothing was moving around us. If we make it quick, we could be back here with the Licorice Root in about two minutes max, I thought. Our footprints would be the only remnant.

  “Ezra,” Leif said, “Dad seemed worried about Mom. I think she’s more sick than he’s telling us.” Leif was onto something. Dad seemed nervous when talking to us, and I think he gave us a suggestion to explore the town as a distraction. While I choose to believe he was telling the truth about her recovery, I suspected he purposefully didn’t mention the severity of the sickness.

  “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing Leif’s hand and beginning the walk across the creek. “Leif, stay close to me and stay quiet, understand?” Leif nodded as he took his first step on the other side, his shoes were wet from the water. We kept a medium pace: something that was fast enough to move, but quiet enough to not make a scene. We stepped over logs and ducked over branches; all while keeping the Licorice Root in our sights.

  The creek turned and followed us parallel to the left. Trees barricaded the water from full view. I could hear the creek. Its current became stronger as we got closer.

  “Alright Leif, we need to harvest these plants whole. You pull out the plant, I’ll cut the roots.”

  “Got it,” Leif responded, pulling the first plant out.

  “Good job, Leif. Pull up three or four more and then we can leave-”

  Something breathed to the left of us.

  I didn’t need to look, I knew what it was: a bear.

  “Leif, run!” I grabbed Leif’s hand and sprinted forward. It caught Leif so off guard I nearly popped his shoulder out of its socket. Bounding steps began picking up as we sprinted forward. Labored breathing and angered grunts closed in at a terrifying speed.

  Everything was suddenly out to kill us: the bear out for blood; the roots grabbing for our ankles; the branches chopping at our necks; the underbrush slicing at us. I realized Mother Nature has done what it does best: never letting you forget she can kill you, and she’s about to make another example. Without the proper preparation, there’s no outrunning, outclimbing, outmaneuvering, or outfighting a bear. It was a game of chess with nothing but your king. You’re completely exposed.

  A wall of blue light flashed ahead of us: the barrier to The Horizon.

  “Ezra! The bear’s getting closer!” Leif screamed. I gripped Leif’s hand with intense force. I was running so fast I was nearly dragging him. The labored breath became universal amongst predator and prey; the distorted, guttural grunts, however, were left to the predator. Milliseconds became a necessity rather than an afterthought, as one millisecond lost was a gamble on our organs.

  I stopped and held Leif beside me at the barrier. I dared to take the gamble: I looked behind me.

  It was right there.

  The cards were all down. A Leap in the Dark was the only play left. Without a second thought, I tackled Leif in the stomach, and we fell through the barrier.

  Landing hard on the ground, my body shook hard from adrenaline and electric shock. Passing through the barrier felt as though each inch of my body was individually, intensely shocked as it touched the blue glow. Leif instantly threw up as he landed beside me.

  I turned around to see the bear standing at the edge, furious. Its thick brown fur disguised its teeth and claws. It stared at us, thinking. It growled and snorted, then backed up. As it backed up, it no longer looked angry, neither did it look at us. It looked horrified, and it looked in the distance beyond us.

  That bear was avoiding something even more terrifying.