Celcila awoke in a cold sweat. She throws the woollen blanket that has appeared on top her body. Her eyes' dart back and forth, it'dark too dark to see, but it seems she's still in the stone remains of the Old Ones' structure.

Celcila began to violently shiver due to the extreme cold. Her eyes' search for the blanket she just threw away.

She just manages to find the crumpled-up fabric in the darkness. Celcila hurriedly raps it around her body and clings to its' warmth.

As she shifts the blanket around her body,in an attempt to gain more heat. she realizes that this isn't a blanket at all... It's a cloak.

This isn't my cloak. I got rid of mine when I was running away, it also feels different. Wait! I ran away... From the Muttons... My team, I left them... I ran here. And I hid... For a long time. Then-then... Mutton! My arm!

Celcila immediately grabs her left arm. It's definitely still there, but feels different... The muscles are larger, the skin is covered in tiny bumps and cuts. It also occurs to her that it is really stiff and aches.

"I wouldn't play with that if I was you." Said some voice in the corner of the room.

Celcila jumps and turns to face the area where the voice came from. At the same time her survival instincts kick in, she desperately searches for a weapon on her body, but alas, comes up empty. She is also dismayed to find that she is no longer wearing her armor and is just in her undergarments.

"Sorry but I took that knife of that body of yours; it was in the way. So was your armour." Calmly stated the voice. The voice was clearly male. It sounds quite young and speaks with a strange accent.

"W-who are you?!" Asks Celcila, trying to sound brave but failing.

"Nobody important."

"That doesn't answer my question!"

"True, but I've got to have a little bit of mystique, I'm sat in a dark corner for a reason. Besides, you're very scared and hostile right now, you'd try to kill me if you had something to do it with."

How can he tell when he can't even see me? Is my voice cracking that much?

"Maybe I would be less inclined to kill you if you would tell me your name, or if I could see you."

"Fair point... My names Grigory."

"Grigory? That's a weird. And why do you speak so funny?"

"Bit rude..."

"Answer the question!"

"My-my I'm being interrogated by the girl I worked so hard to save, oh woe is me. What a cruel world!" The voice said in mock sorrow. "I guess I speak 'funny' because I grew up in a different place from you. From my perspective, you're the one who speaks 'funny'."

"Saved me... You saved me?"

"You're damn right I did! Wasn't easy either. Never reattached a person's arm before."

My arm... I knew I didn't dream it being cut off! But how? It's impossible to reattach an arm."

"Not if you have some knowledge of the Oomen anatomy, a whole lot of luck and a few wishful thoughts."

"… If what you say is true, that you saved me, then... Thank you."

"Don't mention it. It was valuable learning experience."

"If you don't mind me asking. Why does my arm feel bigger and weird, and it feels like its longer than my right arm?"

"Yeah about that... I wasn't looking forward to that question. Sit down, I'll start a fire and we'll talk."

"O-okay." Replied Celcila, now even more anxious.

Celcila walks as close to the voice called Grigory as much as her instincts would let her,. She slowly sits down.

Fire spontaneously appears before her. The room lit up and Cecila recoils in fear at the spontaneous combustion.

"I knew you would do that. Settle down, it's just a campfire."

"Bu-but where did it come from? Did you do it?!"

"Yeah"

"How?"

"Sit down and I'll explain."

Cecila stood momentarily, deciding whether sitting back down was such a wise choice.

After a short contemplation, she decides to sit back down - her curiosity outweighing her fighting instincts.

"Alright. So tell me, how did you start the fire without moving?" She asked as she sat beside the flames.

"I'll explain later. First look at your left arm."

Cecila did as she was commanded. Her eyes' are greeted to the sight of pale green skin, bulging veins and grossly dense muscles.

"What the fuck! My arm! It looks disgusting! It looks like... It looks like a Mutton arm!" She screams.

"Yeah about that... Your arm was kind damaged and the Mutton who cut it off, well he wasn't using his anymore." Said Grigory, in a weirdly embarrassed tone.

Cecila immediately vomits upon the ground in horror at the news. Her body shakes and her chest heaves with a deep anxiety.

"Oh my Gods'! Oh my Gods'! God's!"

She stands up and begins to stagger around the room, clutching at her head and occasionally dry heaving.

"How could you do this to me?! Oh my Gods'! I'm a monster! Why?!"

"I saved your life you know..."

"You call this saving my life?! You didn't have to attach this thing to me! You could have just closed the wound! I would rather have you let me die than do this too me!"

"I know it's not pretty to look at, but it's not that bad. I mean it's a lot stronger and tougher than your old arm could ever be."

"And you think that makes it okay?!"

"Yeah, kinda..."

"You fucking lunatic! You sick, sick bastard! Sadist! Perverted werido! Freak!"

"I think I'm starting to regret saving you."

"You and me both! Why couldn't you just let me die?!"

"Because when you see a girl leave her comrades to die and spend hours hiding in a pile of rubble, you kind of think she might want to live."

For the first time in what seems like forever, Celcila is speechless.

"… You saw that?" She asks, her disgust temporarily replaced with shame.

"Yup. Pretty shameful behavior if you ask me."

"You saw. There were too many. Staying would have just got me killed."

"Oh I agree. But now you're going to have to spend the rest of life living with the guilt of your betrayal."

Celcila stares intently at her mutant arm. "No... I won't..."

"Thinking of killing yourself are we? You won't do it. You're a survivor Celcila, your body won't let you."

"You don't know me!" She shouts in rage while looking for something to help her do the deed.

"Give me my kn-" Celcila was cut off to the sound of her knife skidding across the ground and hitting her toe.

She grabs the knife by the hilt and places the next to her neck. She ever so slowly drew the iron closer and closer, until she could feel the cold blade tickle her throat.

Seconds that felt like minutes pass. Her hand begins to shake, her body in a constant struggle to save and destroy itself.

The tiniest lair of skin is eventually torn and beads of red began to foam - like a pearl necklace.

Her body spasms. Her left hand throws the knife. The tip now buried in a stone wall.

Celcila's body collapses to the floor, her eyes' weep and lips quivers...

"Fuck! Gods dammit! Why can't I do it? I don't deserve to live..."

"No one deserves to live... We just do."

"But I betrayed my comrades, my arm is now the arm of a Mutton's... I can never go home... What is there left for me in this world?"

"Your home is not your world, it was just a tiny speck in the actual world. If you can no longer go there, go somewhere else and make that your home. If that fails, go somewhere else and make that your home."

"You make it sound so simple. We Oomens can't survive in the Wild Lands, especially not on our own."

"Being weak is a pathetic excuse for not living, simply become stronger. So strong that nothing in the Wilds would even think of attacking you."

"That's easy for you to say. I don't know who you are but a Oomen doesn't travel the Wild Lands alone - unless they were blessed by the Gods themselves and carry their relics."

"I don't know who these Gods of yours' you speak of are, but I don't have anything of theirs'. Everything I own was made back in my village."

"Well you're clearly not normal. I can't really see you that well but judging by your voice, there's no way you're older than me. You seem to be alone, and you gave me a working Mutton arm, I've never heard of anyone being able to reattach a person's arm - never mind attach one from a different species!"

"I think your problem is giving me the same standards as a Oomen."

"Of course I would, I mean unless you was..."

Celcila suddenly went silent, an epiphany rapidly growing in her brain.

"… What are you?" She whispers.

"I'm not sure if you know what they are but I am a... Ymdi"

"A Ymdi..? A Ymdi! Can you read my mind?! Are you currently reading my mind? Oh my Gods! Get out of mind" She yells as she practically jumps into the air.

"Will you calm down. Yes we Ymdi's can read minds. No I'm not reading your mind, I'm still in training. I can only read minds with physical contact and a lot of concentration."

"Oh my Gods this is amazing! Is it true that you can transform into animals? Can you walk through walls? Can you breath fire? Oh-oh! Can you fly? Wait! Can you..."

Grigory presses his palm onto Celcila's forehead. He did it so fast, she didn't even have time to react. Her eye's suddenly became extremely heavy and her mind stagnated. Celcila's body slowly slumps to the floor as her mind begin to have such pleasant dreams.

"Man that was annoying." Grigory grumbled to himself.