Tunay slowed his steps.
He looked at the village ahead.
At first glance it seemed ordinary. Irregular structures, low roofs, thin wisps of smoke rising between them… but his eyes didn't catch on these details.
He looked at the people up ahead.
It seemed the old man had somehow sent word to the village to come and meet them.
An old man held a spear in his hand. He was probably in his late fifties. Beside him was a woman even older than he was, barely standing with the help of her cane. Both of their hair had gone white, their wrinkles pronounced.
Two women sat on a log, watching the pot over the fire in front of them and laughing together. Across from them, another girl was playing music with a strange instrument in her hands.
In the distance there was a smithy. Inside it, two men… One held an axe, the other a hammer. With the piles of coal, wood, and metal before them, they were making something. Their bodies were covered in dust, coal, and dirt. The smith's brown hair had darkened with dust.
In another corner a woman was nursing the baby in her arms and humming something. The woman looked quite frail. But still there was a faint smile on her face.
Lastly, in a small garden, a man was hoeing the soil. His clean, long blond hair gleamed, and his purple-and-yellow garment caught the eye. There wasn't a trace of dust or dirt on his clothes.
"Ten people…" Tunay murmured.
"What?" said Poyraz.
"There are ten people," Tunay repeated, this time in a normal tone.
Poyraz didn't answer, he just looked. In that moment a feeling came over him. Something was wrong…
But he couldn't work out why.
Yalaz stepped forward.
When he reached the edge of the village, he stopped.
The old man with the spear took a step forward. His eyes roamed over the group. No one spoke.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"You're late," he said.
Yalaz only nodded.
That much was enough.
The activity in the village came back.
The women by the log began talking again. The smith's hammer came down, and this time its sound could be heard. The crackle of the fire, the dull ring of metal, a short laugh from someone… all of it came back at once.
Hazar loosened his shoulders.
"Finally…" he murmured.
Sevda took a deep breath. "They're alive."
"That alone is enough," said Tekin.
The group moved into the village.
The earth was firmer, more even. The steps came more easily. The weight of the pass still lingered in their bodies, but it no longer bore down on them.
A woman passing by them gave a brief glance, then went on her way. The baby in her arms stirred and cried in a thin voice.
Poyraz stopped and looked.
Then, despite himself, he gave a faint smirk.
A few people sank to the ground. One leaned his back against a wall. Another dropped to his knees and tried to catch his breath.
Yalaz stopped and looked back.
"Don't scatter," he said. "Rest."
Poyraz stayed on his feet, looking at those around him. This time calmer and slower.
But that small feeling inside him… hadn't fully gone away.
For a brief moment he looked at Tunay. Then turned back to the village.
He'd think about it later. First he needed to rest.
Ever since that pass, where gravity pushed a person to their limits, he'd been walking for four hours. Together with what they'd walked before, he'd had to walk for nearly a whole day.
Poyraz hadn't done such a grueling walk in a long time.
He found a warm and relatively soft spot, a plank lit by the last rays of the sun. He sat down on the plank and leaned his back against the hard wall beside it.
He'd relaxed a little and gone limp.
He didn't know how long it lasted; his eyes closed.
Poyraz suddenly flinched; a hand was nudging him.
He opened his eyes and looked. It was Hak.
"Wake up, it's dinnertime," he said.
Poyraz looked around; evening had come. People were sitting in front of the fire, eating and chatting.
Then Hak moved on, sat down in the empty spot beside Tunay, and took the bowl in front of him.
Poyraz approached with slow steps and sat down beside Hak.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," said Tunay.
"Good morning to you too," said Poyraz.
A hand reached out from the other side. It was Sevda, sitting to his right. She was holding out a bowl to him.
He looked; there was a soup in it.
"Thanks," he said.
Sevda said nothing.
Poyraz looked at the soup. A strange meat, a few familiar vegetables…
He didn't think too much about it and started to drink his soup.
Meanwhile he was listening to the conversations.
"I don't think so. The Hounds coming this far into this region in such numbers isn't a good sign. Normally they'd always stay in the west. And it's not just the Hounds; a lot of creatures seem to be migrating east."
The one speaking was the man in his fifties. He was arguing with Yalaz.
Yalaz looked off into the distance, to the east. Noticing that Yalaz didn't answer, the other man went on.
"Master, we should migrate too—maybe north, maybe south, maybe outside…"
"We'll think about that later, Garrun. It's not a subject to debate in front of the children."
In the end the man sighed and moved away from the fire, heading toward his spear. Then he vanished from sight.
'Migrate? The creatures coming closer here?' Poyraz's mind had filled with many questions.
'So this place isn't safe either,' he thought to himself. He'd thought he might be able to relax a little.
He looked around to see whether the others had heard this conversation. Many seemed not to have even noticed the noise, except for Tunay and Hak. Those two were on alert as always.
The three of them exchanged glances. They said nothing. But that silence was enough for them.
Poyraz decided to keep sipping his soup. These weren't things he could offer a solution to right now anyway.
"Poyraz, the written language used here is the first common alphabet. We need to learn it." Hak began passing on a few things he'd learned.
'The first common alphabet?' Poyraz thought.
'Why was the first common alphabet here, on a different planet? And it seems it's been here a long time—it was even in that tunnel, who knows how many years old. What kind of connection do they have with Earth?'
"Thankfully it's not hard to learn. There's a lot of similarity with the one we know." This time Tunay was speaking.
"Aren't you a historian? Why don't you know it, man?" Poyraz snapped.
"How should I know? MAYBE because it isn't history. After all, this one's only about 50 or 60 years old." Tunay thought for a moment, trying to remember. "Exactly 54, I think…"
"Together with our 13, we're 25 people in total," Hak went on relaying what he'd learned.
"Okay, hold on. Whatever you've got to tell, tell it after I've finished my meal!" After getting told off, Hak didn't go on. He spoke little to begin with, and now he'd been snapped at too.
"All right, all right. Don't sulk. Did you learn anything about how we get stronger, how we fight, and so on?"
"The old man and the man who just left—his name's Garrun—are going to teach martial arts to those who can learn. That is, to those with an affinity for Erk." Then he pointed.
"That old woman, Miren, will teach the arts of reverie to those with an affinity for Sezi. And Togan, who came with us, will teach magic to those with an affinity for Yelvi."
Poyraz took a spoonful of his food and asked, "When?"
"Tomorrow morning. The first thing they'll do is split us into three groups."
As Hak caught his breath, he looked into Poyraz's eyes.
"Your eyes have gone back to normal," he said.
"Really? Hold on a second!" Poyraz looked around. Tunay's eyes had returned to normal, but Hak's still shimmered green. He looked at the others too. A few people's eyes had returned to their normal state as well.
Tunay, who had been listening quietly, joined the conversation.
"We don't shimmer anymore. How wonderful." He went on,
"If we're being split into three groups by energy, I have an affinity for two energies. I wonder what I'll do?" He sighed.
"Anyway, I'm not the only one. Hazar and that Tekin beside him have dual affinities too. We'll stick together, then."
They went on with their meals. Laughter and conversation came from around them. Poyraz continued his observations.
People had relaxed and were smiling; some were hugging one another, some shoving and jostling, some resting quietly.
He wondered whether it was normal for them to be this at ease. After all, they were still in an alien place. But then it occurred to him: people wanted to relax.
'No place had ever been mine anyway, so what would it matter if it were an alien place?' he thought. He and Hak had been wandering for years.
He sighed. He took another sip of his soup and finished it. Then he got up from his spot. He walked toward the other side, where the conversations were lively.
He wanted to socialize a little.
Tunay and Hak followed him.
People had drawn a little closer to one another, bonded a little more.
Without realizing it, he was hoping these bonds would grow stronger.