The Companion ended up proving to be a nimble and reliable scout. It was able to land on a window ledge far above the pack of humanoid creatures, keeping a quiet watch on them as I carefully made my way across the sand dunes that lined the rocky beach.

I would occasionally use my connection with the Companion to ‘borrow’ its senses – giving me a disjointed experience of its vision overlaid onto my own. If I closed my eyes and focused I was able to see as if I was there perched behind the Companion.

It was still there, keeping watch on the hairy creatures I had spotted from the beach. The surprisingly uninquisitive creatures had ignored its staring– even as it sat on a window ledge behind them, constantly watching. Perhaps it was true that almost no one ever looked up. Did that even apply to non-humans?

I could feel a desire to feast and kill rising up in me. Sitting there watching creatures it considered prey annoyed the bird, filling it with bloodlust that bled into my own emotions. I hurried, knowing that I would not be able to reign in the creature’s impulses for long.

Even worse, I wasn’t sure how much they would influence my own actions.

I reached a bend in the beach that took me out of sight of the courtyard, then closed my eyes to look through those of my Companion, which still wore the form of a large kingfisher.

I could feel the soft wind as it twirled around me, pulling up on my wings and ruffling my feathers. Powerful talons gripped stone, and I could hear faint cracks as the claws slowly slid into the marble windowsill as if it were as soft as dough. My sense of smell was full of the sweet smell of earth and decay, of life and death in a constant cycle.

The views were amazing from this height, even with thick mists limiting my field of vision. Beneath me was the ruined courtyard, once the face of a five-star hotel, now vandalized and taken back to nature. Pool chairs and tables had been broken apart and stacked for firewood, while grasses, thick bushes, and vines had invaded the cobblestone and grown up through the wooden planks of patios and gazebos.

The pool was empty of water and had been caved in on one side. Within the hollow grew a thick bramble of dense vines with dagger like thorns that protruded in thick spirals around the long and curving branches. Hidden within were fleshy blue fruits and bright red leaves, broad and oar-shaped.

Directly in front of me, past the courtyard and the narrow stony beach, was the Charleston harbor. It was still heavy with rolling waves that crashed like hammers upon a shore that was blanketed by thick mist. This fog had rolled up from the sea to cover the entire area, giving me the feeling of looking down upon mountain tops poking through from beneath the clouds.

The ground around the hotel had been raised up into tall hills covered in massive trees and foliage. The immense silhouettes created by the new terrain dominated the landscape, towering over everything like sleeping giants – hazy and mostly hidden in the fog.

A pressure began to build in the back of my mind, pulling on my consciousness like a rubber band almost at the point of snapping. My mind became fuzzy and it took all my focus and willpower to hold onto the connection.

It was a slightly disorienting experience. It felt like the lurch in my stomach during the initial drop of a rollercoaster mixed with the swimming vision and confusion of being spun around until dizzy, and then punched in the gut. It was much like I had always imagined skydiving would feel, something my father had regularly tried to convince me to try.

With practice I quickly grew accustomed to the discomfort, or at least familiar enough that it only gave me a mild feeling of nausea. True teamwork might have eliminated this discomfort and would have significantly sped up my progress along the beach.

I always had the option of communicating with the Companion and receiving updates and warnings from it, rather than usurping its senses directly. Despite this, I wasn’t quite ready to trust its judgement or intentions. I didn’t believe it meant me harm, at least not in the short term. I wasn’t willing to risk my life on that belief, however.

I stopped admiring the sights and the feeling of being a bird, giving a small shudder at the thought of flying. I wasn’t quite ready for that experience. Instead, I turned my attention back to looking for danger.

The creatures living in the courtyard did not seem particularly active, instead remaining mostly sedentary and opting to stay in their partially enclosed courtyard, as they huddled close and watched meat become slowly overcooked.

Occasionally, they would eat one of the blue fruits, and upon closer inspection I could see long gouges, deep and red, down the arms and across the hands of many of them. The fruit might have been what had attracted them to this location, and I supposed having confirmation that the large berries were edible was useful information.

The creatures seemed almost ape like, and occupied themselves with grunts and communal grooming, carefully picking insects from each other’s fur. There didn’t appear to be any children, and if any of them were females then they were as bearded and flat-chested as all the others.

Occasionally a pair, a new one each time, would break off from the group with a slow and languid pace. Each time, without fail, the pair would begin by entering the hotel for several minutes which was then followed by them making a loop around the perimeter of the building before once more joining their fellows around the fire.

It was inefficient as far security went, but it showed some kind of social structure, and a basic level of cooperation for the welfare of the group.

Perhaps this was a scouting party for a larger group. They seemed to be mildly intelligent. In addition to their use of fire, each wore crude loincloths made of uncured leather and carried primitive weapons fashioned of wood and stone.

They may also have been a group of survivors cut off or abandoned during the mass exodus caused by the pillar of violet light that still stabbed into the sky, faintly visible even through the obscuring mist and bright rays of the newly risen sun.

I wanted to avoid battle with them, because in many ways they seemed like primitive humans. Ugly, misshapen humans but still people. It would feel like murder if I attacked them unprovoked.

It was possible they were humans mutated by heavy exposure to eldritch energy, or even apes freed from the local zoo. It wasn’t even clear that they originated from earth at all, the system generated description of the spider I had fought in the dungeon suggested it was not a native species – but descended from some primordial spider.

Whatever the origins of the primitive humanoids, they seemed content to remain in their small domain. Their lack of exploration combined with their predictable routine had left me a clear path around them by heading south and west along the beach while making sure to keep the dunes between the creatures and myself.

I slowly opened my eyes, letting go of the second set of senses. A feeling of relief and euphoria washed over me, it was similar to scratching a particularly annoying itch.

I gave a quick mental order, telling the Companion to fly above me and to watch for any danger approaching. It didn’t report any creatures nearby that were large enough to be a threat, though I had learned that plants could be just as dangerous.

Every step was potentially my last. I stopped to admire the fact that in many ways I was an explorer – all the maps of earth would need to be redrawn and now the warnings here be monsters would have to be taken literally.

I knew that I needed to make my way north to the site where my friends should have landed if they had been able to make it across the river. I trusted the group and knew that they were strong. Catayla alone was probably a match for anything this world could throw at her.

I regretted leaving them, I had allowed emotion to overcome me and acted without restraint or thought. It was possible, however, that by distracting the tentacles, and pursuing the giant ovoid creature that commanded them, I had bought my friends time.

Hopefully it had been enough.

Orienting myself was not a problem, even through the thick mist and unfamiliar topography. If the pillar of light was not enough, then the unmistakable outline of the Yorktown, the WWII aircraft carrier, was all the landmark that I would need in order to know precisely where I was. Despite this knowledge the terrain and flora were new, and completely unknown to me, so I would need to proceed carefully.

This entire area should have had almost no elevation, some places should have even been below sea level and yet hills and massive trees shaped the horizon into curves and green peaked spires hidden behind fuzzy screens of vapor. The alien terrain blocked my sight of all but the top level of the massive aircraft carrier, despite the fact that there should have been nothing but level earth between it and me.

I was directly south of the where my party should have landed. Despite this, I decided to first go west along the beach before heading north. Heading directly north would take me too close to the creatures in the hotel courtyard and would require me to traverse hills and thick forestation that I wasn’t sure I could handle.

To the west of the hotel the terrain was still mostly flat, with only a few short hills and rounded waterways to block my progress. The grass was overgrown and nearly waist high, and the hills and lakes had somehow twisted and grown larger as well - but it still looked like what I remembered being there – a golf course.

I had actually been there once before, with my dad and grandfather. It had been beautiful, but sterile and lacking any of grace and life found in nature. Every blade of grass had been precisely cut with no plant or tree out of place -each leaf seemingly arranged by hand, and every flower expertly presented, each petal accounted for.

I had hated the artificial feel of it. Even the game had seemed more like an excuse to drink and drive while old men gossiped about golden times that had never truly existed. It was unlike the ocean that I loved, and that my father had shared with me. Golf was my grandfather’s game, and perhaps it was lost to time, just as he was.

It was a foolish thing to mourn, but it struck me suddenly and I shed tears for a world I would never see again. I quickly reigned in my feelings and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before wading into the sea of grass.