The grassy path was not truly a grass path.
It was a corridor swallowed by overgrowth, thick with plants and towering grass that rose higher than the shoulders of some horses. Branches protruded everywhere, crisscrossing one another like crude stakes driven into the earth. Moss clung to the ground and rocks alike, damp and slick beneath the thin crust of frost. The air itself carried an overwhelming scent of wet vegetation and frozen sap.
What struck Cendre most was the ice.
Every blade of grass, every leaf and twig, seemed coated in a thin frosty layer. It preserved the plants in perfect stillness, as if the entire passage had been captured in a moment of winter's breath.
Yet the path had clearly been used.
Signs of edged tools appeared frequently along the route. Branches had been hacked away, leaving pale scars along dark wood. Some of the larger fallen trunks had been pushed aside, though many still lay half-buried in frost. Here and there he saw shallow pits dug into the frozen ground, their edges hardened into brittle rings of ice.
Hoofprints marked the snow in scattered trails.
The road was being reclaimed, slowly.
Cendre paced his horse carefully through the narrow passage, taking in the sight of it all. In truth, Tarja and the riders had been right. Despite its overgrown state, the path itself was far more forgiving than the brutal terrain of the wastes.
There were no sudden cliffs.
No hidden crevices waiting beneath drifting snow.
The wind was gentler here as well, shielded by the towering plants and natural ridges surrounding the path.
A man could still freeze if he came unprepared, but the danger was not nearly as immediate.
"Pardon the sight," Tarja said as she rode beside him. "Though we say the path has thawed, you can see that it is still undergoing clearing."
Cendre leaned forward slightly in the saddle and swept a loose branch aside with his gauntlet.
"Is the road ahead like this the whole way?" he asked. "Will the horses manage it?"
Tarja guided her mount smoothly around a cluster of jutting stems before answering.
"This is an old path, Ka-Cendre," she said. "We have illustrations of it preserved in our archives."
She gestured ahead.
"It is overgrown near the beginning. But the farther we travel, the more it will thin."
Cendre nodded slowly.
I hope so, he thought. I worry for the horse.
The animal beneath him shifted slightly as it pushed through another curtain of frozen grass.
"So you keep illustrations," he said after a moment. "Your people, from what I have observed, are full of scholars and makers."
He paused briefly before adding,
"Forgive me if this offends, but when I first encountered your kin, I assumed you were hunter-gatherers."
Tarja glanced at him with mild curiosity.
"Because of the furs we wore?"
"Because of it, yes."
She laughed.
It was not a loud laugh. Rather, it sounded like a small chime ringing softly in the cold air.
"It is cold here," she replied. "We do not possess the looms or materials to weave thick fabrics like those you describe in the south."
She brushed a strand of hair away from her face as they rode.
"What we harvest in our biomes is enough to make dresses and lighter garments," she continued. "But for warmth, fur remains the most reliable."
"A shame," Cendre said thoughtfully. "I can only imagine what your people might accomplish with broader access to materials."
He looked ahead at the narrow path cutting through the frozen vegetation.
"The systems you have built in Carcove would make many cities in the southern regions blush."
Tarja tilted her head slightly.
"Do they truly lack such things?"
"Aye," Cendre confirmed.
"Most southern towns do not have plumbing," he continued. "Running water is rare outside of major cities. Hot baths even rarer."
He snorted faintly.
"And manure is everywhere."
Tarja fell silent for a moment as she guided her horse beneath a low branch. She leaned gracefully to one side, avoiding it with practiced ease.
Cendre noticed again how natural she looked in the saddle. Her posture was balanced, relaxed, almost effortless.
She rode like the two Ja-kin riders ahead of them.
Like someone who had spent her entire life on horseback.
"Is that truly so?" she asked after a moment. "Do they not fear disease?"
Her tone carried genuine curiosity.
"How can illness be controlled if people do not keep their surroundings clean?"
Cendre considered the question.
"Disease is not rare in the south," he said. "It has plagued those lands time and again."
He shrugged slightly.
"But the southern regions are vast. Their cities are large and crowded."
He glanced toward her briefly.
"They suffer," he said. "And sometimes they learn."
Tarja frowned faintly.
"That is an unfortunate way to think of things."
She reached up to adjust the leather strap holding her spectacles in place.
"When winter strikes here, it is harsh," she continued. "If disease appears within the city, we isolate those affected immediately."
Her voice grew more serious.
"We cannot afford to let illness spread."
Cendre nodded.
"Customs differ," he said simply.
Tarja accepted that answer with a thoughtful nod.
"I find it fascinating, Ka-Cendre," she said after a moment.
Her gaze drifted toward the distant horizon beyond the wall of frozen plants.
"I wonder how warm the south truly is compared to the far north."
Cendre chuckled quietly.
"Very warm."
He shifted slightly in the saddle.
"And full of insects."
Tarja wrinkled her nose slightly at that.
"I suspect you would enjoy the Middle Central," he added. "The weather there is gentle most of the year."
Tarja smiled at that thought.
It was a small smile, but genuine.
They continued their pace, and as Tarja had said, the grassy path slowly thinned.
The towering plants gradually gave way to shorter growth, though it was not as though the grass had been cut or cleared. Instead, it seemed pressed down, as if some unseen weight had passed over it time and again, flattening the blades into broad sweeping fields.
From a distance, the land resembled a frozen sea.
Waves of pale grass stretched across the tundra, each blade rimmed with frost. Scattered among them were countless flowers, their colors preserved beneath thin layers of ice. Reds, blues, yellows, and pale violets dotted the landscape in irregular clusters, breaking the endless white with sudden bursts of color.
The scent that drifted through the air was unexpectedly pleasant.
Sweet and clean, almost intoxicating.
Cendre drew a slow breath through his nose as his horse carried him forward.
The field also carried a strange sound.
At first he thought it was wind moving through the grass, but as he listened more carefully he realized the noise came from the earth itself. The ground beneath the frozen vegetation had formed natural hollows and ridges, and when the wind passed through them it produced a low, resonant tone.
It created a natural ambience.
Almost musical.
For a moment the place felt strangely magical.
Cendre found himself tempted to slow their pace so he could observe the field more closely. The plants alone would be worth the attention of scholars, and the scent in the air hinted at species unknown in the southern regions.
But Tarja warned him otherwise.
"It is not only us who roam this field," she said.
Her voice carried quiet caution.
"Many predators hunt here."
Cendre glanced toward her.
"Large ones?"
"Small, medium, and large," she replied calmly.
Her gaze moved across the tall grass as if measuring the unseen movements beneath it.
"But the most dangerous are not the largest."
Cendre frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Tarja pointed toward a patch of pale flowers growing near a cluster of stones.
"There are invertebrate creatures that live beneath those plants," she explained. "Small ones. Easy to miss."
She shifted slightly in her saddle.
"They release toxins when disturbed. The venom infects the body, inflaming the flesh."
"And then?" Cendre asked.
Tarja's expression remained serious.
"The scent attracts other predators."
Cendre muttered something under his breath and kept his eyes scanning the field more carefully.
Tarja continued after a moment.
"There are also creatures we call the forked-tailed."
Cendre raised a brow.
"What kind of creature is that?"
"An animal with a tail that splits like a fork," she said. "The ends are sharp enough to pierce skin."
She mimed the motion briefly with her hand.
"It strikes quickly. When the tail pierces flesh, it injects a paralyzing agent."
"And then it eats the prey?" Cendre asked.
Tarja nodded.
"Yes."
She hesitated briefly before adding more.
"In the worst cases we have observed, the creature uses the body for something else."
Cendre glanced toward her again.
"What do you mean by that?"
"It lays its eggs inside the prey."
Cendre grimaced faintly.
"Inside?"
"Yes."
Tarja's voice remained matter-of-fact.
"It prefers the softer internal organs. The stomach lining, the intestines, and other tissues."
She gestured downward toward the ground.
"Afterward it buries the body beneath the soil."
Cendre shook his head slowly.
"That is certainly something I would prefer to avoid."
Tarja smiled faintly.
"Then it is good that we keep moving."
They continued riding across the frozen field.
The grass swayed gently beneath the horses' hooves, releasing waves of scent each time the plants shifted. Every now and then Cendre spotted movement within the vegetatio, small creatures darting away or burrowing deeper into the frost.
None approached them directly.
Still, the tension of unseen predators lingered quietly in the air.
Four hours later the sky began to dim.
The fading light signaled that evening was approaching quickly.
Voja eventually raised a hand from the front of the group.
They slowed and entered a small clearing where the grass had been trampled down by previous travelers.
"This will do," the older rider said.
They dismounted and began preparing camp.
The first task was protection.
Using small shovels carried with their gear, they dug a shallow circular trench around the campsite. The loose earth was piled outward to form a low barrier, and stakes were placed along the outer edge.
It was not a fortress by any means, but it provided some warning if larger animals approached during the night.
Afterward they set their tents.
Voja and Maroja handled the fire pit, digging a proper hollow in the center of the clearing before lining it with stones gathered from the surrounding ground.
Soon a small flame flickered to life.
While the fire grew, the riders unpacked their rations.
The meal consisted mostly of cured oxen meat.
The strips were dark and firm, preserved carefully with salt and unfamiliar spices. Cendre took a bite and immediately noticed the flavor.
The spices reminded him somewhat of chili.
But they carried a deeper warmth.
Within moments he could feel heat spreading through his chest and stomach.
Tarja noticed his reaction and smiled faintly.
"These spices grow within the biomes beneath our city," she explained.
"They warm the body."
Cendre took another bite.
"They certainly do."
Tarja continued while she ate.
"The plants themselves are dangerous for smaller animals," she said. "Many creatures cannot digest them properly."
She brushed a crumb from her sleeve.
"But larger animals, and humans, can tolerate them."
"There have been deaths, of course," she admitted. "But only when someone consumes too much."
Cendre nodded thoughtfully.
Everything about Carcove seemed carefully balanced between danger and survival.
After the meal they allowed the fire to burn low.
The sky above the clearing stretched wide and clear, revealing a vast blanket of stars.
For a while they simply sat quietly, watching the heavens.
Eventually the cold began to deepen again.
One by one they retired to their tents.
Sleep came quickly.
The journey ahead would demand their strength, and none of them wished to waste energy beneath the frozen sky.