She can’t help the trembling of her legs as they stalk along a beaten path. Prints of all sizes litter the defiled soil, two-toed and three-toed and even seven-toed, the imprints fresh and deep.

Their footsteps look modest in comparison, tiny compared to the biggest pawprints, easily four times as large as theirs. They are dry enough that when she stops for a second to trace the outline with the tip of her boot, the structure stays strong.

There hasn’t been another croak since the earth-shattering one. Every slight rustle or movement jars her heart into beating hard and fast, her muscles tensed to run. Other sounds fill the vacuum left behind by the croaks–sporadic chirps, hisses, and hoots bounce off the forest and breathe life into what she had first thought was a lush wasteland. A wide variety of life she isn’t expecting to hear, because she has grown used to utter silence.

For all her talk, Cora knows she isn’t some strong, intrepid explorer who walks with the certainty that only years of experience brings. No, she cannot stop herself from shivering every time a breeze drifts in from further ahead, nor tensing at random noises, nor wanting to admit to Liam that this is a terrible plan, that they should turn back now before something horrible happens to them.

But this is the surface. Deep within her, in the part of herself that wants to find out more about their new world, she knows she has to secure their resources first. Maybe she’ll regret her decision down the road, but the time to act is now, instead of delaying their plan and putting their trust in sheer luck.

“How far away is the river?” Liam asks for the umpteenth time.

She holds her breath and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Five more minutes. I remember that rock over there.” The pinkish boulder she points at, she has no idea about. The tiny lie is enough to get him to shut up, restful silence music to her ears.

Other details about the landscape jog her memory. The trio of purple trees sitting within a grove of brownish-purple ones. The patch of snow-white flowers. Two log stumps long since overgrown with velvet red moss.

She keeps her lips sealed as they walk past the familiar landmarks. No matter how much she urges to tell him that they are close, he’ll keep pestering her about when they will reach the river. Better to stay quiet.

The twisting tree that materializes farther ahead, however, once they pass a particularly dense section of forest, she lets it do the speaking for her. The very sight brings the same rush of tingling awe as the first time she laid eyes on it.

She turns around to see Liam’s reaction. Like her, he stops dead in his tracks and raises his head, up and up and up until his neck can’t support any more bending.

The main tree trunk resembles a spine. Plates stack upon each other, symmetrical hollows eating up the maximum bulge of each plate on each side. They stretch far above, feeding into skeletal branches that ages ago tore through the highest canopy and even beyond.

At the base of the gargantuan bony tree, thick roots fold over themselves, creating a small hollow big enough to sit in with Liam. A curtain of vines hangs over the opening, glistening purple like the first trees they saw. A few of the vines sport red spots, and from these needle-like growths pierce through the skin, as long as her forearm and as thin as a sewing needle.

As they approach the tree, it becomes obvious that white lichens sprouted over the bark, filling every available inch and crawling high up beyond recognizable detail. Each lichen is a white hexagonal patch of fuzz interlocked with each other. She never touched them the first time, but she thought they must’ve felt soft.

Liam’s hand reaches out, fingertips poised over the lichens. Cora swats his hand away and scowls. “Didn’t you warn me about the trees? About how this isn’t Earth?”

He scratches the back of his head. “They look soft.”

She shakes her head. “I thought the same thing the first time, too. Come on, the river’s behind the tree.” The thick vegetation, in addition to the tree, muffles the currents breaking on rock, rushing at speeds she nor anybody can ever hope to swim against.

She holds her breath as she leads him past the tree. Will they see whatever caused those croaks?

They move around the roots, step over a shallow depression where tiny weeds sprout up, and squeeze between two shrubs. She goes in sideways, careful not to brush against any plants. Liam’s footsteps crunch on the dead leaves as he follows her lead.

She resists the urge to criticize him for being so obvious about their location.

Once on the other side, themselves miraculously intact, the full force and splendor of the river come into view.

Liam gasps. She lets her breath go, letting her body tingle with excitement. Letting the source of their hesitance slip past her defenses to let herself bask in the glorious paradise before them.

The mountains are much closer, large enough that they can distinguish the snow-capped peaks from the grassy slopes, a clear-cut boundary, and distinguish those slopes from the sparse shrubs, then small trees, then forests of evergreens. Wispy clouds cling around the tallest peak, a jagged and formidable structure.

Slate-gray mountains trail away from the tallest peak, fading into the distance. The entire mountain range, a sea of never-ending white wearing a forest as their clothes. The dual suns hang above the mountains, bathing them in a brilliant light that makes the snow sparkle and trees glisten.

The river churns below them. To their right, where the mountains are, the terrain rises, and so too does the river so that the black writhing shapes within the water are exposed, swimming upstream. Hundreds of them, captured in the tiny glimpse of the dark blue river, protruding rocky riverbank obscuring the rest.

Before them, the same riverbank blocks sight of the massive river powering through the ground. They creep close to the edge and peer over it. At least a ten-foot drop separates them from the churning currents. The river’s wider than even she remembers, reaching far across them to the other side, where a similar riverbank starts high and descends past sight.

“We did it,” Liam says, his voice tiny against the pounding water.

“That’s a pretty profound observation, not gonna lie,” Cora says, planting her hands on her hips and breathing the river’s fresh scent.

“Hey...” But his tone is light-hearted, and he opens his arms wide, closing his eyes. “This feels good.”

“Yeah. But we have to watch out for the toad. Or whatever that thing is.”

“Right.” He opens his eyes again and turns his head from side to side, capturing the river in its entirety. “How will we reach down there, though? I can’t find a way to get down without rappelling.”

“We can just walk along the edge until we find a way down. There has to be a way down. It can’t be like this the entire way.” Or can it? The riverbank is eerily symmetric. Sure, there are several places where the edges crumbled away, or wore down to lower heights compared to other sections of the riverbank.

But she shivers at seeing the same riverbank run up and down the land. They’ve walked enough. Her feet ache at the mere prospect of walking more, when they have done enough.

“We don’t know the rules this world runs by. Well, we don’t have a choice, anyways. We can go uphill and the water will be cleaner but our walk will be harder.” Liam sighs. “Or we can go downstream where the water will be dirtier but our walk will be easier.”

“Uphill.” Easier said than done. Cora winces when she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “We can’t get sick. We have to stay as safe as possible.”

“We’re going to have to boil our water, anyways. Might as well have less bacteria to boil in the first place.” He raises his head when he turns towards the rising portion of the river. “We don’t know where the croaks came from. They could’ve come from higher up.”

“They also could’ve come from lower down,” she counters.

“Okay, all we can do is hope that that creature is the opposite way. Ladies first.” He gestures towards the higher half of the river. She scowls as she passes him, choosing to take the lead.

It doesn’t take long for her muscles to scream in protest with every step she takes forward. She’s rested well, but sleep won't help her muscles recover at the pace she needs them to. She played volleyball years ago, then quit after she got into a fight with the captain, after she realized that the years of mental abuse kept pushing her down.

When she could’ve done better with her life than give it to those bitches.

She braces herself against exhaustion. Pushes forward when she should be resting. The sheer exertion of lifting her legs makes her pant heavily, and her body feels like lead. Combined with her weakening stamina, her body forces her to stop hiking, rubbing her calf muscles.

“I can’t,” she mutters, hiding her flushed face from Liam’s prying eyes.

“Can’t what? I think I see something further ahead.”

He’s pushing her on. She knows it, and she wants to feel inspired, but her body fails her. “It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes, has it?”

“You tell me. I don’t have my phone.”

"You're so–" She gets up and reaches out to punch Liam, but he easily sidesteps her blow and crosses his arms.

"See? You can."

"I'm not exactly in shape."

"You look fine to me." She runs a hand through her tangled hair. An absolute liar he is, yet she doesn’t detect a hint of deception in his voice. “I mean it. Don’t stress out about whether you’re able to make it or not. I know you can. We walked miles to get here. Probably tens of miles.”

“I’m tired of walking.”

“Honestly? Same here. No excuse for not walking a little more, don’t you think? We made it this far. It’d be a waste to stop now when there’s so much water below us.”

She nods. Takes her first uncertain step, biting her lips as the balls of her feet and her calves simultaneously light up. She goes slow, letting Liam lead the way, who every minute or two looks over his shoulder to see if she’s keeping pace.

For that, she is eternally grateful that he slows down just for her. The scenery remains static, the mountains as domineering as ever, and the river choked full of those writhing black shadows.

However, the grass underfoot gradually turns into a weed-like plant that’s darker in color, tougher to bend and generally makes their skin itch wherever it tickles at their legs. The trees grow thicker, leaves heavier, trunks darker still. The smell of wet tilled earth hangs heavy in the air, and soon their clothes are damp with moisture, making them sweat even more.

She hasn’t thought about the temperature differences. Back in the forest it was warm, slightly hot, but not overbearing. On the mountains, next to the river which should’ve been refreshing them, the humidity and combined heat of both suns is stifling. She can’t breathe without feeling the air drag through her lungs.

The oxygen doesn’t feel enough. Maybe it isn’t. Cora hasn’t seen stars yet, so she thinks she’s fine. The mountains are distant, their slopes faded against the lilac sky. Like an old movie reel, the clouds drift slowly, crashing against the tallest mountains and flickering every so often as sunlight catches the snow-capped tops.

The rushing river barely affects her anymore. In fact, she relishes the sound, because that means that she isn’t dreaming and the river will provide their salvation. It’s the problem of getting down without drowning in the currents that makes her teeth clench with every step.

One minute. Two minutes.

She checks her phone, the time dragging by too slow and yet too fast, one minute closer to sunset. She glances at Liam, whose face is neutral when he checks on her again, wiping away sweat on his brow. She glances at the animals in the river. The pattern changes every time she looks inside, the shadows slightly different. The river’s might combined with the dark, unknown depths sends shivers down her spine.

Five minutes.

No croaks, no boar-creatures, and the mountains remain distant. For the first time since arriving here, she takes a picture of the natural landscape. Her phone, although the second-latest model with multiple cameras, fails to capture the striking colors and rich depth that she sees herself.

“That’s a good picture.” She startles back into reality. Cora stands a good few feet in front of Liam. Since when has she gotten the energy to surpass him? He leans in and squints. “Can’t beat that as a wallpaper. Having an actual real other dimension as your wallpaper would be pretty cool, don’t you think?”

“Nobody would believe me.”

“You know, taking a lot of pictures might help with that. And us if we get lost and need to turn back. Come to think of it, why haven’t you used your phone more?”

She bites her lip. “This is going to sound dumb.”

“Try me.”

He begins walking again, so she has no choice but to walk alongside him, sliding her phone back into her jeans pocket. Lucky her she wore her only pair with decently-sized pockets.

“Every time I turn it on, I just–it hurts when I don’t see any new messages.” She picks up speed. This time it is Liam who catches up. “I have no signal. It should be obvious, right? Stupid me, expecting something to come through. At least a message updating me about things back home. And I can’t tell them where I am.”

Cora presses to her fastest walking speed. Liam trails behind her, but he isn’t running out of breath like she is. He isn’t being torn apart on the inside like she is. “That’s why I don’t check. I have a solar charger, but I haven’t bothered charging it. Or my phone. There’s no point when I feel horrible every single time I see that blank screen.”

She stops. The roaring river drowns her thoughts, churning them over until they’re a mess in her head. She can’t concentrate on anything except the water. The endless crashing upon rock that she had grown used to.

Unraveled, in an instant. She clenches her jaw and presses a hand over her eyes. Laughing, even as what she thought fortified after several days comes crumbling down. Down, like her life.

“Cora…”

“It’s stupid. What I’m doing is stupid. I should’ve been taking pictures since we got here. Then this world wouldn’t be so damn confusing.”

She sniffles. She buries her face into her hands, trying to hold her breath to stem the flow of tears, trying to imagine away the knot forming in her throat. A warm hand rests on her shoulder. She tenses, then lets out a half-choked sob, squeezing her eyes shut to block the mess of tears she knows is coming.

“I-it’s fine. We have to get down to the river. Please, let’s just keep moving.”

But Liam doesn’t move. Slowly–apprehensively–he wraps an arm around her. When she doesn’t push him away, he hugs her, a light hug that nevertheless allows her to sink into him and let her walls break.

Partially. She cannot–will not–sink to despair. Because she fears she will never find the strength to pick herself up again. So she whimpers and releases choked sobs and weeps for everything she’s lost. His arms are the fortress keeping her safe from harm, and she is the soldier tired of all the fighting, wanting something else to protect her, to whisk her away back home.

She depends too much on Liam. She has to keep looking. For what, a way down to the river? A way back home? She does that day in, day out. She has to. But all the little sacrifices she has to make, all the little things she took for granted ripped away from her in an instant, they whittle away at her the longer she stays away from Earth.

She fears spending months wandering the face of this world searching in vain for her own. Years. Decades. She sobs as she wonders if someday she will forget her old life, losing her memories to newer, more urgent ones needed for her to survive. Time dulls all pain, she’s heard too many times. But memories are also sanded away.

If not herself anymore, then who will she be? A stronger person who overcomes this crippling homesickness, or a weaker person, shattered into tiny pieces that can never be put back together? Like she was for so long on the volleyball team?

“I’m scared,” Cora whispers, pressing her hands tight over her eyes.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Liam’s arms tighten around her.

“Are you?”

“Since the moment I appeared in the forest.”

“Where do you think we’re headed? With so much we don't know?”

A pause. His breathing slows, becomes lighter. “I don’t know.” He lets her go. “But we get to choose where to go. Even if it takes sacrifices.” She wipes her tears away, still bleary-eyed and sensitive to the daylight. He extends a hand out to her. “Do you choose to march forward?”

Cora hiccups. Rubs her eyes again to clear the remnants of tears.

“I won’t give up until I find a way home.” She grabs his hand, and he gently tugs her into a walking pace, then lets her hand go. “I’m not gonna give up.” Her voice trembles, but she speaks louder. “And I won’t give up on you, either. Whatever happens, we’ll find a way back, somehow. I miss my family, I miss my pets, I miss my friends, I miss everything that made our lives easy, but I won’t let it stop me from doing everything I can.”

He nods. Features hardening. “And I won’t, either.”

She sniffles. “There’s only one choice we have, then.”

The knot loosens. The pain and longing doesn’t go away, though. She accepts it as a part of herself. Something has to push her on when her own will fails her.

The river, nature’s fury unbridled, spurs her on. The sight of the rich blue waters strengthens her resolve where her longing wears her down. Liam is silent, likely deep in thought again. Whatever home life he led before arriving here, she noticed that he sounded… tense, when he agreed with her. Weird, that she never sees him down. At least the way she feels down.

She tucks the moment away. Focuses on the river. Erases all thoughts of home, lessening the heartache to where she can forget about it if she takes in the environment. Focuses on the riverbank, which starts to sink closer to the river proper.

The trees are sparser. Shrubs become the dominant plant, intimidatingly tall and wide, although they lack the purple quality of the trees. Pale, pumpkin-like fruits sit within the base of each shrub, their branches thin and elongated, leaves no bigger than her pinky nail. Glossy deep green dripping with dew, or water sprayed from the river.

Her stomach grumbles. She holds back a strangled cry as she is once again reminded of everything she has lost.

All her fault. Which is why she will never tell him why he got stranded. Or perhaps not her fault. He deserves to know, but at the same time she’s broken enough. She can’t handle him delivering the last blow.

She needs him, and he needs her. They can't drive themselves apart.

“There.”

Cora snaps out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Look.” Liam points at a distant point in the river where the slope grows steeper. There–the riverbank melds into the river. No obstacles. No drop. Free access to a lifetime supply of water, just up ahead, a two minute’s walk at most.

Finally.

She surges forward, pushing down her homesickness and wants, her desire for water dominating all other feelings. Liam falls in sync behind her, the two of them running towards the open access, as if the river were to grow a new riverbank soon.

They arrive panting, but the water’s there. Clear, fresh, the first few feet into the river shallow enough that they see the bottom, devoid of vegetation, laid with surprisingly fine sand. Before she comes to her senses, she kneels and dips a finger into the water. The chill bites into her skin and she withdraws her hand, wrapping her hand around her finger to warm it up again.

“It’s surprisingly cold,” she says, then sighs. Perfect.

“We need wood or something combustible to burn a fire. But we don’t have a pot to boil the water in.” They face each other, and Cora shrugs, to which Liam shrugs in return. Then his eyes light up. “Oh, did you bring the plastic packaging the water bottles came in?”

“Yes, it’s in here.” She pulls it out of the front pocket, the one that carries some of her school supplies and solar charger. The packaging is bright, a dangerous thing to have if potential predators were roaming around these parts of the land. She doesn’t care, though. At least not at the moment.

“What are you gonna do with it?”

“I was thinking if we evaporate the water we get and the water vapor gets trapped on the plastic packaging. You know, use it like a ceiling. I don’t know how we can get it to drip down into our bottles, but–”

“That’s genius.” She never would’ve thought of that. It gets rid of any bacteria or viruses or whatever tiny life forms exist on this planet. And all the other materials riding with the river get left behind. “Okay, where should we camp?”

“I was thinking where those bushes are. It’s a good spot to hide ourselves if…” She’s facing the river, he’s facing the land behind them, and his face is ashen. He rubs his eyes, blinks several times, and his lips part open. “If…”

“Liam…”

“Oh, fuck.” Cora turns around, expecting to find a boar-creature or some similar predator, but what she finds shocks her into silence.

A single campsite, stones lined up in a circle, with the burnt remains of branches sitting within. Too perfect and unnatural to belong there. Several nearby bushes are missing big chunks of their vegetation.

There are no footsteps left imprinted, but it’s enough.

To know that they’re not alone.