The Fisher proved 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 our connection to ‘borrow’ the creature’s senses — giving me a disjointed feeling of vertigo as its vision merged with my own. If I closed my eyes and focused I was able to filter out everything except what the Fisher saw, as if I were watching over its shoulder.

I could feel a desire to hunt and feast that grew more urgent with each passing moment. Watching creatures it considered prey annoyed the bird, filling us both with overwhelming desire to pounce. To act. I hurried towards the dunes at the end of the beach, knowing that I would not be able to reign in the creature’s impulses for long.

Even worse, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could trust my own actions. Already I began to scan the horizon with the instincts of a predator looking for prey. I felt on edge as if some forgotten task was needling at my subconscious.

My path along the beach took me took me to a grassy bend where I should be invisible to anything watching from the courtyard. Small creatures and insects burrowed through the sandy hill and yellow-brown mice darted through the reed-like beech grass. The vermin bent the green blades, leaving behind a quiet rustling as they scampered away from me. My eldritch senses showed me a bubble almost completely devoid of life, centered on myself.

At some point I had become the predator the smaller creatures feared, trembling in their burrows at the passing of my shadow. The thought left me conflicted, both in awe at what I could become and with a great sense of sorrow at what I had lost. Was I a protector or a boogeyman? Would I have a choice?

I used that emotion to push out everything else as I closed my eyes. I drew in the senses of the Fisher, using every ounce of focus I had to ignore the distractions of my own senses. The itch on my arm where it was rubbing up against dry sand evaporated, being replaced by the feel of wind twirling through my feathers.

The ache in my recently healed ankle faded into the feeling of powerful talons sinking into the hard tile, loud cracks echoed out as I squeezed tighter. My limbs felt powerful as if they could carry me into the sky with a single pump. I reveled in the strength and sharpness of my claws as they sank into stone as if it were soft dough. My sense of smell was full of the sweet smell of earth and decay, of life and death in a constant cycle.

Everything seemed clearer, lines were crisper, through the Fisher’s eyes and yet there was a muteness to the color — the world seemed darker, less vibrant.

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. Spindly weeds, bushes, and creeping vines had invaded the cobblestone and taken over the once perfect landscaping.

The pool was empty of water and had been caved in on one side. Within the hollow grew a thick bramble of twisting branches covered in dagger-like thorns. Hidden within the toothy trap were fleshy blue fruits that grew between broad, oar-shaped leaves that were a bright, fiery red.

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 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.

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.

The growing pressure was like the lurch in my stomach during the initial drop of a roller coaster mixed with the swimming vision and confusion of being spun around until dizzy. Then being punched in the gut.

I wasn’t sure how much longer my brain could continue to process the dual sensory inputs, already my thinking was beginning to slow down as the pressure in the back of my head increased. Dark desires and indescribable images swam through my mind and it was taking more and more concentration to keep them from pushing out everything else.

I always had the option of communicating with the Fisher through words or images, rather than usurping its senses directly. Despite this, I wasn’t quite ready to trust its judgment or intentions. I didn’t believe it meant me harm, at least not in the short term. I also knew it had its own ideas about what was 'good' for me.

I stopped admiring the sights, focusing on getting as much information as I could before the connection broke. The creatures living in the courtyard did not seem particularly active, instead, remaining mostly sedentary and opting to stay in their partially enclosed courtyard. They socialized through grunts as they huddled into small groups around the fire, watching meat become slowly overcooked.

Occasionally, a pair would break off from the group with a slow and languid pace. At the beginning of each patrol, they would enter the ruins of the hotel before making a loop around the perimeter of the building where they would join the rest of the tribe.

Their security was lax, but it at least showed that they had some understanding of cooperation as well as a primitive intelligence. Additionally, each wore crude clothing made from uncured leather and woven grass. This, combined with their ability to make fire, proved they had some level of technology. They couldn't have just sprung from nothing a few weeks ago. There had to be more of them for their society to have advanced even to this primitive level.

They may have been a group of survivors cut off or abandoned during the mass exodus caused by the pillar of 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 a battle with them because in many ways they seemed like primitive humans. Ugly, misshapen humans, maybe, but still people. It would feel like murder if I attacked them unprovoked. That was a line I might never be able to come back from once crossed. A line some dark part of me was waiting to cross.

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 like scratching a particularly annoying itch. My muscles relaxed as I released the tension with a few quick breaths.

I gave a quick mental order telling the Fisher to fly above me and to watch for any danger. I could feel its pleasure as wind filled its wings and chunks of pulverized stone rained down from its former perch. 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 — every map of Earth would need to be redrawn and now the warnings here be monsters would have to be taken literally.

I needed to make my way north to the site where my friends should have landed once they made it across the river. I trusted the group to take care of themselves, Catayla alone was probably a match for anything this world could throw at her. That didn’t stop me from imagining the worst. Long before I took things such as apocalypses and Skills seriously, I had learned that even the strongest among us can be killed.

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

Hopefully, it had been enough.

Orienting myself was not a problem, even with the thick mist and unfamiliar topography. If the pillar of light was not enough, then the unmistakable outline of the Yorktown was all the landmark that I would need. Despite this knowledge, the terrain and flora were new and completely unknown to me. 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.

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 courtyard and would require me to traverse hills and thick forestation that were certain to slow me down.

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 it had been … a golf course.

I had actually been there once, with my dad some of his business partners. It had been beautiful, but sterile and lacking any of the grace 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’d heard it described unironically as, “perfectly coiffed.”

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 sense of danger, life and adventure I felt anytime I was near the ocean. Now, I’d take a day on the course with the old man over just about anything.

It was a foolish thing to mourn, but it struck me suddenly and I was left shaken as I remembered a world, and a man, that 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.