Dhryn stared at the campfire.

He was trying not to stare at the flames, but around them – at the flickering orange light being cast on the rocks, and the skittering shadows cast by the rocks onto the ground. It was something Naya taught him. The giraffe Mujaji was always encouraging him to look for patterns or symbols in “the spaces between”. Apparently, that was the best place to look for omens, tidings, or warnings from the spirit world. But even now, in his prime, the gnoll wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be looking for. 

It wasn't that Dhryn didn't know how to commune with the spirit world – he had had visions before, he had even communed with the spirits of inspiration themselves. But they always came to him, not the other way around. Going out of his way to look for an omen felt like cheating, like he was making himself an uninvited guest in the spirit world.

A nearby snort roused him from his thoughts. Shinyi, the zebra mare Dhryn had raised from birth, was standing at the edge of the camp, still as a stone, staring into the forest. 

"Maybe you're having more luck seeing spirits than I am," Dhryn mumbled to himself before rising to his feet, "What do you see?"

Shinyi didn't acknowledge him, which was strange. Usually the mare turned at least one ear when spoken to, but she continued to stare, eyes and ears focused dead ahead into the dark woods.

Now Dhryn was concerned. Anything that commanded the mare's full attention was worthy of note. He approached the mare at her side and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. He could feel the tension in her muscles. 

Shinyi inhaled, flaring her nostrils before releasing a sharp snort. 

"I know," Dhryn replied, "Something's not right." He stood beside her and stared in the same direction, trying to see what she saw, or hear what she heard. The woods seemed empty, and then Dhryn quickly realized that that was the problem. The woods were never empty. Even at night they were teaming with life, from the smallest buzzing insects to the largest lumbering beasts. There should have been no shortage of activity, and yet there was a distinct lack of . . .anything, like all of Mundus was holding its breath. 

“Something’s not right,” Dhryn repeated. He could feel the fur on the back of his neck prickling. They needed to go, he thought, they needed to go very far away, and they needed to go very fast, back out to the open plains where they could be safe. He turned to swing his leg over Shenyi’s back, but the ground shook, knocking the gnoll off balance. The trees shuddered as if caught in a mighty wind and the ground continued to tremble, making the short grass sway back and forth like waves on the sea. Shinyi stumbled and looked around frantically, as if unsure where to run. 

In the woods beyond, a faint reddish light began to glow. It was soft and distant at first, but then became brighter and more focused. It reminded Dhryn of the sun rising, but he knew this was all wrong. It was too bright, he thought, too focused. 

"It's getting closer," he realized, trying to find his legs as the ground wobbled. Shinyi seemed frozen in place, her legs wide like a newborn foal trying to find its footing.

The ground heaved again, and this time the earthquake was accompanied by a deafening crash as the land itself began to tear itself asunder. The grass was ripped apart like fabric, and a massive fissure opened up, emanating from the strange red light. Dhryn rolled out of the way but Shyni's slim legs couldn't hold her, and she tumbled down the rift with a heart-wrenching feral scream. Dhryn screamed back, eyes wide in disbelief as his closest friend fell down into the abyss and out of sight.

Dhryn looked back at the source of the tremors. Who or what was responsible for this? What force of nature could wreck such havoc? Whatever it was, Dhryn swore vengeance. It didn't matter if it was an entire nation of Vark, he thought, he would make each and every one of them answer for this crime.

But even a nation of Vark paled in comparison to what Dhryn laid eyes on next. Something was crawling out of the newly-opened wound in the earth.

With the trees folded and broken like twigs, Dhryn could clearly see a massive, hairless hand grab the side of the earthen gash, followed by a second hand covered in reptilian scales. These were followed by two more hands of similar features, and then an enormous, rounded head that seemed to large for its colossal body. It had no fur save for the top of its head, where long wisps of hair competed for space with a circular crown of jagged and uneven horns. The creature's face was hairless and vaguely simian, except for the nose which was triangular and angled towards its chin. Soft, rounded cheeks made its face look strangely spherical. The creature’s eyes were gold, and they reflected the reddish light like metal. But the shaman only saw them for a moment before the creature closed its eyes, opened its toothless mouth, and unleashed a sound unlike any that the gnoll had heard before. The cry – if it could be called such a thing – overwhelmed every sense, blinding and deafening the gnoll as it robbed him of his sense of smell. Waves rippled through the air, uprooting trees, peeling the grass from the dirt and quickly sending Dhryn spiralling upwards, sending him to the -

. . .

Ground. Dhryn felt grass. He screamed and opened his yellow eyes, rolling over to see a familiar striped muzzle less than a fingers-width from his face. He screamed again. Shinyi reared up with a whooping sound, just as startled as he was. Dhryn caught his breath and extended a hand up to the mare in apology. Shinyi pushed her nose into it, forgiving him instantly. 

The land was dark, and intact, dimly lit by countless stars above. The embers of the campfire had long since gone cold. Dhryn laid back down on the ground, staring up at the shapes between the stars. For the first time, he felt the stars looking back. "We can't stay here," he announced, sitting up, "We need to go see Naya."