Date: April 30, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Three days in the cave had changed them. Not outwardly — wounds healed slowly, and even Datuk's regeneration, enhanced by the Tree, could not work miracles in a few days. The deep gash on his chest still ached, and each sharp movement echoed with a dull, throbbing pain. Sobra still limped on his left front paw, and his silver-striped fur was matted where Ulviya's ointment was doing its work. Rosh, the least injured, could now move almost freely, but his face was still pale, with dark circles under his eyes.
But something else had changed. Something in their gazes, their movements, the way they spoke — short, abrupt, but without the former hostility.
Ulviya sat at the cave entrance, her back against the cold stone, cleaning another white fruit. In three days, she had found several more water sources and a whole grove of those strange trees, and now there was enough food not to go hungry. She looked at the white sand, the white cliffs, the white sky, and thought about how much longer they would have to stay here. The Tree gave no sign. Only its pulse, deep, measured, echoed in her chest, reminding her that they were still inside it. Inside its world. Inside its trial.
From inside the cave came noise. At first, Ulviya didn't pay attention — Sobra often shifted in his sleep, and Datuk, when waking, always grunted and cursed, trying to find a comfortable position. But then the noise grew louder. Heavy breathing, the scrape of claws on stone, and a familiar, low growl.
Ulviya jumped up and rushed inside.
---
The scene before her made her freeze for a moment. Datuk was standing — for the first time in three days — and his axe was clenched in his right hand. He was swaying, his face pale, the bandages on his chest, tightly wrapped, straining with the effort. But he was standing. And looking at Sobra.
The bear sat opposite, his amber eyes burning with the same fire as the dwarf's. He wasn't growling — just watching, and his silver-striped fur bristled on his scruff. Between them, in the air, tension pulsed, ready to explode at any moment.
"What are you staring at?" Datuk asked, and in his hoarse, strained voice, there was no malice. Only challenge. "Think I'm weak? Think I can't?"
Sobra snorted and stepped forward. His heavy, clawed paw struck the stone floor with a dull thud. He wasn't attacking — just showing he was ready.
"Datuk, stop!" Ulviya shouted, rushing between them. "You're both wounded! Have you lost your minds?"
"Step aside," Datuk said, not lowering his axe. "This is a man's talk."
"What kind of man's talk?!" Ulviya protested. "You can barely stand! You have a wound across your whole chest! And Sobra could barely breathe three days ago!"
"So?" Datuk smirked, and in his smirk was something boyish, almost childlike. "We always warm up like this. Right, Sobra?"
The bear made a sound — not a growl, not a snort, something in between, and in that sound was something like agreement. He stepped forward again, and his head was level with Datuk's chest.
"You're both insane," Rosh said, emerging from the shadows. He stood with his arms crossed, his mismatched eyes — green and brown — watching the dwarf and the bear with an expression Ulviya couldn't read. Not fear. Not mockery. Rather, weary understanding. "Just recovered and already want to cripple each other."
"We won't cripple each other," Datuk replied, lowering his axe. "We'll just... see who recovered faster."
"You'll lose," Rosh said. "You can barely stand."
"How would you know?" Datuk snapped, but there was no anger in his voice. Only stubbornness.
"Because I can see," Rosh nodded at his legs. "You're shifting your weight to the right. Your left leg barely works. And you're holding onto the wall."
Datuk froze. His pale face, with dried blood on his cheek, hardened.
"Do you want to taste my axe?"
"Not before you taste my daggers," Rosh said.
Ulviya stepped between them, spreading her arms.
"Enough," she said. "No one is fighting anyone. We're already on the edge. If you cripple each other, the Herald won't need to finish us — we'll do it ourselves."
Datuk wanted to object, but Sobra, approaching him, nudged his shoulder with his nose. The dwarf froze, then, reluctantly, lowered his axe.
"Fine," he said. "But when we're healed... you're first," he nodded at Rosh. "We didn't finish that fight."
"I don't mind," Rosh replied, and in his cold, even voice, something like a challenge sounded. "But first, we need to get out of here."
---
They sat in a circle — some on stones, some on mats of dry grass Ulviya had found by the stream. Sobra lay beside Datuk, resting his head on his knees, and the dwarf, without looking, scratched behind his ear. The gesture was habitual, almost automatic, and Ulviya noticed how Rosh, watching them, frowned slightly.
"We can't stay here forever," Ulviya said, breaking the silence first. "There's food, there's water, but the Tree isn't giving any signs. We're just sitting and waiting. And waiting isn't the best strategy."
"What do you suggest?" Rosh asked. "Stick our heads out and shout, 'Hey, Herald, we're here! Come finish us!'?"
"I suggest we move," Ulviya replied. "Not toward the Herald — the other way. The Tree is vast. There are other zones, other trials. Maybe there we'll find answers."
"Or new death," Rosh said, but there was no fear in his voice.
"Or new death," Ulviya agreed. "But sitting still and waiting isn't an option."
Datuk was silent. He looked at his hands — rough, calloused, covered in fresh scars — and thought. About how he and Sobra had come here together. About how the compass had led them through forests and hills. About how the Tree had summoned them.
"We can unite, for a time," Ulviya suggested.
She fell silent, and silence fell over the cave. Only the drip of water somewhere in the depths counted the seconds.
"I'm not saying we have to become friends," Ulviya said, looking at Rosh, Datuk, and Sobra. "But here... here we need to stick together. At least for a while."
Rosh was silent. His mismatched eyes — green and brown — looked at the dwarf, and in their depths, in that cold, calm assessment, was something Ulviya hadn't seen before. Not agreement. Not refusal. Something in between.
"You're right," he said finally.
"We can try," the dwarf said.
Sobra growled in agreement.
Ulviya, watching the scene, felt something warm spread in her chest. Not hope — rather, relief. They wouldn't become friends. But they had stopped being enemies. And that was enough.
"So it's decided," she said. "We go together. Where — we don't know yet. But together."
"Together," Datuk repeated, and in his hoarse, strained voice, something like agreement sounded.
Sobra snorted and nudged Ulviya's shoulder with his nose. She stroked his head, and the bear, content, closed his eyes and lay back on the stones.
Rosh sat, leaning against the wall, his fingers folded in their familiar pattern, twitching faintly. He wasn't looking at them. He was looking into the darkness of the cave, where beyond the gray cliffs, the white world waited.
"We leave tomorrow morning," he said. "Today — final rest. Tomorrow... tomorrow we go further."
Ulviya nodded. She looked at Datuk, who had already closed his eyes, at Sobra, dozing beside him, at Rosh, sitting motionless as a statue. Four. Different. Strangers. But together.
"A temporary alliance," she thought. "At least for a while. At least until we find a way out."
She leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to rest.