Serpent Game: Slave to the Shadows vol. 1 (Now on Kindle!)

Chapter 3 | Cinder Crops

"Have you forgotten me, Gyone?"

A seemingly endless reach of white nothingness yawned before the hunter, with only a reflective stream gliding across his boots.

With each step towards the voice, a ripple ebbed, but no signs of any wetness caught onto his soles.

"Where are you, you dope?! Come home already!" The feminine voice donned a happy demeanor. Gyone looked up to the never-ending ceiling in wonder.

"Who are you?"

Finally, he spotted a faint blur of a human figure in the distance, the very sky itself drawing attention to her with a glorious glow.

"Don't you even try being cute!" the voice said. Her perfect silhouette devolved to smug hip girdling. If her eyes were to be seen, they'd look pretty pissed off.

"Cute?" asked Gyone, "no, I-"

"Oh, I know what might work ..." Her pondering had a coy weave. "If you come here before sunset, I'll do that thing you really like." Then her soft giggle ensnared him. "Don't keep me waiting."

Gyone had failed to recognize her at first, but that voice was all too familiar to surrender to amnesia. Her unmistakable swoon.

"Mia?"

He awoke to the sight of a wooden ceiling. A little more observing and Gyone noticed the puppy curled up on his chest, who lied closely to the amulet. Slight surges of pain coursed through Gyone at random intervals, and now he knew what was to blame for his restless sleep.

The puppy soon awoke and looked at Gyone, of whom was none too thrilled to see him. He immediately batted the mutt away and stood up, scratching the back of his head, winding his fingers through his unkempt hair. Dirty failed to adequately describe the tangled weaves; more like premature clay. The hunter dared not pull too hard, lest he go bald from ripping chunks.

Much to his dismay, the dead man stumbled upon some sort of painful reminder.

Dried blood.

No mistake about it when he painfully chipped a sample. Further sleuthing led to a bullet wound not far from the base of his neck. A shock rippled through.

He took a strained gulp of air through a mouthful of saliva.

What little breath he conjured lost its rhythm.

Frantically, he surveyed the area from behind a countertop; he appeared to be inside a toy shop. Shelves lined the small business space with simplistic, wooden toys, such as model horses, birdhouses, and miscellaneous humanoid figurines.

Soon, he was greeted.

"Well now! Glad to see you're back from the dead!" Gyone jumped slightly, breathing jumpy. Amused, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"You don't know the half of it, old man," said Gyone.

He looked behind to find this man sitting at his work desk, tinkering with an indistinguishable project. The man's posture painted mid-fifties, early sixties of age, Soon, with a full-toothed grimace, the man turned to face his guest of honor.

He had an odd head of spiky grey hair and wore brown overalls. Over his eyes were some goggles, assumingly needed for his line of work as a craftsman.

"Well, that's good to know!" he exclaimed. "We were damn near sure we were gonna have to prepare a memorial."

Gyone began to observe the rest of this place. Not much else to see indoors. What lay beyond the glass door was sparsely populated desert and spiked-topped crags which dotted the land beyond.