Do you remember Mother? Her cooking was the pride of our little village. She had a temper, but her every thought was focused on protecting her children. You were pushed by a bully one time and she flew into such a rage. I’m laughing to myself remembering that poor child’s face as Mother yelled at him and his parents. Such peaceful people had never seen a force of nature like Mother.

The air in the command tent is uncomfortably stale, the closed flaps not letting the fresh scent of grass and forest gently waft inwards. The three people inside don’t speak a single word, letting silence fill the void, but for very different reasons. Two of the occupants, a forty year old man with a grizzled beard and a fifty year old woman covered in camouflage clothing, retreat to silence out of respect for the third occupant, a young man of only nineteen years.

Peter stands over the folding table, silent as his mind races in thought. Most people, especially those down in Everwall, thought that the geographical shift during the change had made maps useless, but Peter and the Hunters knew better. The shift had changed the landscape, that was a given, but core elements of the old maps remained the same. His mind races as he stares down at the old maps, raising a hand to let Craig, the older man with the beard, begin to make his edits.

Taking a step backwards, he watches as they dive onto the maps with pencils and notes collected from all of their hunting trips. Peter doesn’t listen to their debate, instead walking out of the command tent to look for a drink of water. His thoughts drift as he walks, thinking about the power that maps will have in this new world. A chuckle slips out of him as he remembers a line that a friend, long lost to the change, had told him in passing. Information is power. He’d laughed it off at the time, countering with the point that he’d take a sword over information any day, but he now understood the truth of the statement.

He’s drawn from his thoughts by a loud yell to the south, a sentry’s cry that informs the camp of a potential threat. Drawing his axe, he runs over to the sentry post and mentally prepares himself for battle.

I watch as Kat raises her hand and makes a small hand gesture. The sentry, now only a little over a hundred feet up the hill from us, lets out a cry and an explosion of motion begins within the camp. I watch with raised eyebrows as people come rushing out of tents carrying weapons, most makeshift in nature, and gather together along our path, blocking our route into the camp.

Frustration plays out on my face as I turn to Kat. “Was that really necessary? I already told you that I just want to talk to Peter, I’m not here to attack.”

Pushing past her fear, she turns to me and bares her teeth slightly. “And I don’t fucking believe you. You came here in some flash of light and then pretend to know my boss? Ya right.”

I let out a sigh of exasperation, thoughts racing as I decide how to handle the large group rushing towards me. Despite the conflicts of my past 500 days, I have no desire to have my first day back on Earth devolve into a fight between humans. That will come in time but not now. With this in mind, I put my hand on Kat’s shoulder and activate Mana Infusion for just an instant, pushing her down to the ground. I quickly follow and, keeping my hand on Kat’s shoulder to ensure she doesn’t run away, cross my legs and wait for the strangely bloodthirsty group to arrive.

It takes a few moments for them to arrive but they quickly surround the two of us, blocking any possibility of retreat. Well, any possibility of retreat for a regular person.

Before I can speak, a young man with three viciously red scars across his face confidently walks forward. He is just under six feet tall with a stocky build, thick legs and wide shoulders making him look like an ancient warrior given life. He wears dark green clothing obviously intended for hunting and camping, covered with more pockets than he could ever use, and walks with a confidence that suggests he is the leader. My eyes widen and I stare at him a little more intently, slowly realizing that this scarred person is Peter!

I’m blown away at the realization. Before the change, Peter’s size had always made him feel uncomfortable and he had always radiated nervousness, sometimes hiding it behind his lazy and fun-seeking personality. Now, however, he walks with confidence and a surety that he had lacked before. It may have only been fifteen days since the arrival of Genesis but his personality is completely different. The boy is gone and a man has taken his place.

Pride and admiration well up inside of me. I know, better than most, how difficult it is to change to fit our new reality and it seems as if Peter has accomplished this task in a far shorter time than it took me. Before I can reach out with my mind and discover what he went through, he interrupts my thoughts.

“Let my Hunter go and we may let you live. Keep her and you die”. There is iron in his voice, a belief in his every gesture that suggests he knows how this interaction will play out. It’s also obvious that he doesn’t recognize me, which isn’t that surprising considering the circumstances. My current appearance, combined with my confident and relaxed attitude despite being surrounded, is the antithesis to the nervous and shy boy that Peter remembered me as. A smile breaks out on my face as I decide to mess with him a little.

“Oh really? Is that how you think this is going to go?” I respond with a smile and a tilt of my head.

Before I can take it further, multiple plans on how I could reveal myself building themselves in my mind, Kat looks up at him, adoration and worship in her eyes, and yells. “Be careful Boss! This guy is dangerous! He attacked me down at the old library!”

At the mention of the old library, I see Peter’s brow furrow, confusion dotting his face as he looks at me and begins to see familiar aspects. Well, there go my plans. Oh well.

Recognition begins to dawn as I stand up, revealing my tall and lanky frame, and I smile at him, the happiness of seeing my old friend alive and doing well eclipsing any annoyance at my inability to mess with him. “Hey Pete, I see you got yourself some new friends”

His eyes light up at my words, recognizing my voice now that he’s connected the dots, and a large smile breaks out on his face, looking strangely out of place given the three red scars that are ripped across him. They look to only be partially healed, the red skin still looking quite inflamed, and present an almost angry visage that conflicts with the happiness he shows upon realizing who I am.

Dropping his axe, he runs over to me and gives me a bear hug, a habit of his since we were young, and I match it, the feeling of being with my friend after nearly 500 days of exile breaking down my emotional walls. Slightly sobbing, I hug him tightly and after a few moments we separate, my hands coming up to my face to wipe away the small tears that formed.

I’m not one given to emotional displays, usually logical to a fault, but after being on my own for so long … well the presence of my friend is something that I missed more than I ever thought possible.

Hands still on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, crinkling his eyes in subdued laughter at my mangy and unkempt appearance. “Where the hell have you been, man? I spent the first few days looking for you but ... well, I just assumed …” His voice trails off, his eyes saddening and saying more than words ever could.

“Did you see all that stuff about the randomly selected when Genesis first arrived?” He nods his head in assent. “I was one of those.”

My words carry enough that all the members of the group hear, whispers and hushed voices speaking about my revelation. To my surprise, the unifying aspect of all the whispers is ... fear. Confident just seconds before, they now seem filled with terror and grip their weapons tighter, knuckles going white. I look around in surprise and some of them even stare back at me with anger in their eyes, almost as if daring me to fight.

All of that is nothing, however, compared to the hurt that I feel when I look back at Peter. His smile is completely wiped away and he seems filled with caution, still looking at me as his friend but with a wariness that one uses around a trained beast, always worried about the potential of their animalistic nature overriding the conditioning.

I reach into Peter’s mind and seek out information regarding the randomly selected, amassing all that he knows and bringing it back into my mind in a process that only takes a few seconds. The knowledge then opens up in my mind and I fall to my knees as I comprehend why they feel the fear. Tears well up in my eyes and, for the first time in years, I cry deeply, feeling them fall down my face as my body is racked with sobs.

Marc ... is dead, killed by someone like me. We had been drastically different kids, interested in completely different things, but we were family. We had grown up together, roughly the same age, and had experienced that familiarity and friendship that only family can have. Love and frustration, laughter and annoyance, happiness and sorrow. Kinship.

He had been a gifted kid, always the best at anything that he tried, but he had a protective soul. Marc had always kept an eye out for me. The one time that a bully had beat me up ... his response was so vicious that he had almost been kicked out of school. That time the group of girls had decided to make fun of me for my lanky nature he responded with a few words that nearly ended their social lives. His flaws had made him human, given him defensive instincts that had served as a quasi-purpose. I had assumed he would thrive in the new world but his potential had been ripped away from him before he even had an opportunity to grow.

In my heart I feel the presence of something I’ve never experienced before. A dense core of anger, rage, and anguish forms within me, a desire to avenge and destroy the thing that killed my family. It is currently surrounded by the sadness of my loss, but I somehow innately understand that it will just grow in intensity until it is satisfied with the death of his killer.

The Hunters must think me insane, falling to my knees and crying without a reason that they can see, but I don’t care.

I let myself cry for another minute, feeling the sorrow vividly, and then I get to my feet and look around at the ring of people surrounding me. Wiping away the tears, I walk over to the bearded member of the Hunters, the man who had brought back the information about Marc’s death, who I recognize from Peter’s memory. He stares back at me with fear in his eyes, probably seeing me as an approaching specter of death instead of a person dealing with grief. The people around him, most likely thinking me insane, grip their weapons even tighter, a few even pushing their spears forward to prevent me from getting closer.

Sorrow fills my eyes as I look around at them and they look upon me with confusion. Their caution is admirable, probably the only way that they have survived in this new world, and I look up at the bearded man and ask the question that echoes in my mind.

“You were there. Tell me, who killed Marc?”

Before he can respond, Peter comes up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing me towards the largest tent and gesturing at the bearded man to follow.

“We can talk in here, Cael. We … we have a lot to discuss.”