The cold wind was dashing against dirty, bloody skin. If he found a place to warm himself soon, he wouldn’t be ill, he would be dead. His eyes saw no place that offered shelter. The beach was empty, only a few logs, wet and useless, populated the otherwise empty coast. All this ice, sand and dirt was sure to give him illness soon if he didn't craft a campfire. The forest inside the island promised him nothing good. He knew that those islands weren’t empty, and he knew that the forest was the home of monsters.​ He paused and reflected, the cold wind, the illness, the headache, the trauma. Bad memories came to him, this was like back then when he was marked. "No" Erik managed to pull himself out of his trance "no, this is not like it was before, now I can survive, now I can fight back" "Are you, Erik?" a voice inside him spoke, he wasn't sure if it was his demon or a voice. If only he had found things out early, his life would have been different. Right now, he would be near a campfire in a house...or he would have been dead. ​ Having no choice, he started exploring the island. The woods were even colder than the beach. A strange cold wind came rushing through the trees, and the forest was dark and cold. Half hid by a bush he saw a skeleton, with his clothes still on. He was a civilian, send here on some mad colonization, probably. “This isn’t the place to settle and build a house,” he prayed for the deceased and buried his skull. A useless act, but an act of respect towards the dead. He didn't know the grass or plants that came out of the ground. He didn't know the root of the trees. And he was nearly certain, no, secure, that this island had been marked as heretic territory. Not after long, he didn't start hearing the sound of footsteps. Hadn't he heard footsteps before? No, this time it was for real. There were many, and there were following him- At last, a figure came out of the wood to confront him. ​ The creature looked humanoid and muscular. Despite having only a deer skull for clothes, he didn’t suffer the cold. In his right hand, he had a raw club made of dark wood. He tried to dodge the attack, but a quick and violent bust hit his skull and made him fall unconscious. --- When he woke, he was in a cave. A warm cave, he might add. His fever had risen, and the skin blanket wasn’t enough to keep it at bay. A young girl with red hair and strange tattoos came to see him; without the helmet, he could see that those weren’t humans. Their eyebrows were too marked and their faces too long. Some hybrid? ​He had seen many of them during the years. He sat in a corner, without speaking or emitting a word, keeping his blanket and trembling from the fever. The girl gave him something to drink, a yellowish liquid that tasted strangely good. And then began cleaning the sweat on his forehead while singing something, a lullaby? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Deeply exhausted, he fell asleep again.​