We make slow progress—whatever trail once existed has been completely erased by the snowstorm. Before we left, Prax double-checked our location using his “special” access to the Confed’s databases. Apparently, each housing unit has some kind of serial number and can be tracked on a map. That’s how he figured out we hadn’t strayed too far from the border. This shelter is less than six miles from the edge of the zone. That might explain why it was abandoned—maybe the owner gave up trying to return from the city once the weather turned ugly?
We’re following the outer boundary as best we can, and Prax plans to head east when we reach a small lake about twenty miles from here. We should come across another traveler’s shelter soon after. The central hub of Arabia Terra is still two days away, give or take, depending on the terrain. Mars doesn’t really have roads—just paths that have been traveled and marked often enough to be usable. And since we’re taking a different route than most, our trip is… let’s call it adventurous.
When we finally see the lake, it takes my breath away. The surface is partially frozen, but one section remains open, dark water shimmering in the light. The air smells rich—damp earth, a hint of sweetness, moss, old leaves. Trees surround the water, their branches heavy with snow. And there, by the shore, stands a herd of caribou. Majestic, peaceful, with antlers like crowns.Their dark eyes watch the lake, their breath rising in puffs of mist. The stillness is hypnotic.
I glance at Prax, a little uneasy. We share beautiful moments like this, but I can’t fully forget that he’s a predator. It’s ironic, really—his nature doesn’t bother me at all when it comes to Pallas.
My gorgeous Sadjim catches my expression and gives me that devilish grin that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Way too big,” he murmurs with a sly wink.
He’s right. These caribou are massive—definitely not snack-sized. We wait for almost thirty minutes before moving on. I’m surprised he lets the whole herd drink in peace. Maybe I’m rubbing off on him.
By nightfall, we reach the shelter we hoped to find. Through the half-transparent walls, we can see someone inside. Before Prax can spin the vehicle around and suggest we camp in the wilderness again, I hop out.
“I’ll go check it out,” I say.
“No—you don’t know who that is,” he growls.
“I don’t know anyone out here. I’ve never left Cydonia. I’ll see if they’re friendly. You can leave me behind if you want.”
He scowls, clearly unhappy. But honestly? He’s not the type to just let me wander off alone. His overprotective streak is almost sweet—almost.
I head straight for the front door of the outpost and step inside cautiously.
“Well hello there, young lady. You're a long way from the center! What brings you all the way out here?”
The man addressing me is no spring chicken. Judging by his weathered features and the patchy gray-and-white hair covering parts of his scalp and chin, he must be well over seventy. A warm, welcoming smile spreads across his wrinkled face.
“Hi. Sorry to intrude—I didn’t know anyone was here. I was hoping to find a place to spend the night.”
“You came to the right place! You’d freeze to death out there before you found the next shelter. I’m Hans. And you?”
“I’m Neela.”
My mind races. What now? Should I go back to Prax and sleep out in the snow cocoon again? Or ask him to join me here? If it were anyone else, I’d have no problem. But how’s this guy going to react when he sees a Sadjim?
“I’m getting too old for this crap,” Hans sighs. “I’ve got a unit up north. I left five days ago to see a doctor in Arabia. Then the storm hit and I’ve been stuck. Maybe it’s time to move closer to town.”
He seems harmless enough. Just a lonely guy trying to get home. Now that I think about it… this might be his place—the shelter Prax and I crashed in during the storm.
“Come in, don’t be shy. There are three bedrooms. I promise not to bother you.”
“Thank you… Hans. Are you feeling okay? You mentioned seeing a doctor. I’m actually a doctor myself.”
“Don’t tell me Zim sent you! I told him I’m fine. Just a little chest pain—nothing some herbal potions won’t fix.”
“No one sent me. I came from Cydonia.”
“Cydonia? In this weather?” he says, amazed. “Nobody travels this route at the end of winter.”
“Well… me and my friend, Prax. He’s waiting outside.”
“Then tell him to come in! I won’t intrude on a young couple. I was just about to make lentil stew—guess I’ll grab a bit more now that we’re three.”
“Wait… I’m not sure we’ll stay. My friend’s… different. And a little shy.”
“Shy? Really?” he snorts.
