The Shaman's gaze followed Kostya throughout his journey. He couldn't help feeling like an invisible observer was watching his back at all times. The hypnotizing eyes of that old man crumbling to dust kept coming up in his thoughts. But each time it was like he was injected with a cooling dose of anesthetic that enveloped his mind, shielding it from the craziness of this world.

But here, on the shore of the boiling sea, looking into Juel's beloved face, he could physically feel the ruthless seconds cling to her body like leeches, sucking the life out of her.

She was fading, her eyes clouding, her steps becoming smaller and her rests longer. This change broke Kostya's heart, the pain breaking through the numbing hypnosis of the Shaman's bottomless eyes.

It was like feeling his numbed cheek after going to the dentist and suddenly finding a string of saliva coming from the corner of his mouth. Looking around to see whether anyone was staring, but, of course, he had no napkin to wipe it off. And he gnawed at the rubber-like, unfeeling flesh on the inside until a salty pain came to his numbed receptors, making him realize that he had almost bitten through his cheek.

***

The gaping hole of the cave was so close. Kostya was itching to pick Juel up and carry her in his arms—or even in one arm—the few remaining feet, but then he remembered the Volcanite's words: Don't even think about carrying her. Juel's steps here, on the surface, are guiding Khoronum on his underground journey. If she takes none, he will lose the way and never come to say his last goodbyes to his mother.

That's why Kostya just supported the old woman as she walked. He waited out her frequent stops patiently, holding her close and whispering, "Just a little longer, honey. Just a few last steps. Please, please, please," and kissed the sparse, gray hair on the crown of her head.

His memory brought him back to that smoking cave, with the burned morsels of handwalkers' flesh scattered all over the floor.

***

Kostya was holding the edges of the bite wound on his shoulder. It was covered in some sticky substance that looked like white clay or dough, which Juel had put into his mouth. She'd also instructed him to chew it for a while without swallowing and then apply it to his wound, which she accomplished by puffing her cheeks and moving her lower jaw, then pretending to spit at her fingers and put them on his shoulder.

The substance had made Kostya's tongue and the roof of his mouth numb. He felt like he'd never be able to speak again. But when he took the paste out of his mouth and put it on the injury, the numbing sensation spread over his shoulder, dulling his pain and restoring his mind to a state of passive contemplation.

Dawn was breaking.

The two of them sat next to the cave that reeked of burning. They rested their backs on the frost-covered wall, the fire Juel had made out of nothing crackling in front of them. She must be making it out of thin air. Like a dragon, maybe. And all those wet twigs and unconvincing bunches of grass are just for show.

But the warmth coming from the fire was genuine; the dance of the yellow flames enchanted him and put him off his search for weaknesses in the logic of it all. He didn’t have the strength after such a grueling night.

The leather band was back to its place around his right wrist, clasping its tiny teeth into the tail.

Juel was already about eighteen. Kostya watched her movements as she applied another strange medicine to his wound. She was no longer snub-nosed in a childish way, her small nose just a bit up-turned. She had grown into a true beauty: a slender body, pretty face, fresh skin, and bottomless gray eyes; the gleam he saw in them made his heart beat faster.

His mind was still a mess.

First, he had begun to develop an affection for this child—and fear about suddenly feeling like Juel's father. Then she had become a young teenager, waking his hidden desires. But then the handwalkers' attack had sent his train of thought in a completely different direction. Or was it the previous way? The situation was changing so rapidly that Kostya seemed to react instinctively, giving no thought to whatever he did.

Now it was a fully grown woman in front of him. Kostya was drowning in those calm, gray eyes, his heart pounding somewhere in his throat.

The warmth of the campfire enveloped them both, shielding them from the pre-dawn cold. Juel looked away and leaned down over his wound, her silky hair touching his bare chest.

Still struggling to catch up with the racing reality, Kostya suddenly raised her chin with his good hand to look directly into her eyes.

Juel didn’t resist. She just put away the cloth she was using to clean his wound and, silent as ever, took Kostya's blazing face in her cool hands, locking her lips with his.

He felt like falling into sweet oblivion, panting as he pulled her clothes off. Juel was helping him out of his, still kissing him and biting at his lips slightly. He could hear her breath become faster.

She lay him down, her whole body touching his.

Kostya was falling into the captivating abyss of her smell. He could feel her every movement, following her rhythm. This fall, urged on by her rapid breath, seemed endless. But suddenly, it stopped. Juel squeezed him with abnormal strength, and he sensed a cramping wave run over her body, transforming her into a hot, pulsing spring.

Then the pulsing came to his own body, exploding in his numbed mind.

When the waves began to subside and slow down, a sudden thought flashed across the ringing void inside his head: I didn't even think of strangling her.

They seemed to have been lying by each other's side for an eternity, silent and hot, their bodies ringing in the echoing silence.

Kostya fingered Juel's hair, struggling to wrap his head around what had just happened. He probably could've done it if he'd had more time, but the crazy speed at which things happened here hadn’t given him the chance.

It's just a dream, anyway. Why bother?

Juel breathed deeply in her sleep, resting her head on Kostya's chest. He fell asleep, too, before he could think any more thoughts.

They woke at the same time, the cold, blurred sun already high over the mountains.

The campfire had burned down, but the coals still gave off warmth.

The first thing Kostya noticed was his wound had fully healed. He wasn't surprised.

Juel looked up, her eyes smiling at him, and ran her nose down his cheek. Her calm stare warmed him, filling his soul with serenity.

He still couldn't make sense of what was going on. Not that he really cared. He was just drowning in her gray eyes. Nothing else about this dream mattered any longer.

She kissed Kostya on the lips and went to the fire to revive it with some secret technique of hers.

In less than a minute, the crackling flames soared, warmth spreading.

Kostya raised himself on his elbow, watching Juel, now a young woman in her early twenties. Her calm, intelligent eyes no longer had that mischievous, adolescent gleam, but that was not the only change.

What else had changed about her? He couldn't tell.

Until she stood up, and he saw her body round up slightly.

Before he could have a better look, she turned her side to him…

…showing her baby bump against the background of flames.