If there was something Page marveled at, it was at how fast an arid wasteland could become a dense forest in a matter of hours. Despite the drag of the blizzard ebbing from Page's feet, her savior hasn't paused nor looked back. Their steps only slowed when the lush canopies ate their shadows whole and the sunlight got eclipsed by the thick undergrowth. Even the smell of sand and the scratchy air was gone, replaced by a cool breeze rustling the leaves and tickling Page's ear.

She attempted to squirm out of the person's grip, but they only tightened it. Where were they taking her? An idea came to mind. Were they going to offer her to their local gods? A shrine? Was this an abduction?

Her teeth ground against each other, fingers creeping to the belt of her suit. They wrapped around the hilt of a voyager knife—one explorers like her couldn't and shouldn't live without—and drew it out. In a flash, the grip loosened. Page danced out of the person's grip, swiping her blade in a wide arc as she did. Instead of running or taking the hit, a flash of silver whizzed towards her. Embers flew in the mild sunlight as two knives touched.

Page gritted her teeth, using her other hand to support her dominant one as the person bore down on her. Her feet skidded back against their force, and when they pushed against her, her entire body followed. The grass curled away from her, trenches appearing beneath her soles.

She rescinded her force, sending them toppling forward with its sudden absence. With a flair, she swiveled away, jabbing her hand and her elbow on his neck and shoulders, respectively. A masculine grunt resounded from behind the cloth mask as they went down. He responded by slamming his fist against her ankle, sending her toppling sideways. He slashed down, and she rolled away against the uneven forest floor as his blade bit against an exposed root. She clambered to reorient herself when the man closed in with a decisive thrust.

"Wait!" She threw her arms up and discarded the knife. It clattered to the ground, right above the tip of his boots. They didn't look like the normal leather Page has seen back home, so it must be from somewhere on this planet. "I come in peace."

The knife stopped inches from her throat. "And yet you attempt to take my life," the man said. He reached up and removed the mask around the lower half of his face, revealing a young man and a fair, clean face. "Which is it?"

Page blinked. She wasn't used to seeing people other than her race. Back home, fair skin was considered a crime, and no matter how much she complained about it being unethical, she was just one person who couldn't change an entire planet and undo every bit of history there was. "I apologize for that, okay?" she said, noting full well the man just spoke to her in a language she understood. If that was the case, then was this planet affiliated with hers for some strange and unknown reason? "I was just surprised."

"Why didn't you run away when I saved you from the blight?" the man prodded. Oh, he wasn't keen on letting this go. Page related to that. After all, trust was a long way off, and she did think the man was going to bring her to some mountain shrine as appeasement for the forest gods. "You could have attacked in the desert, and yet, you chose this forest. What are the chances you are not here to hurt me?"

"If I could, I would have," Page said. "Even if I was supposed to kill you, I already failed in my mission. You're definitely better than me."

The man's eyes narrowed, but he lowered his blade. Page resisted the urge to massage her neck in relief. That was close. Really close. "Then state your case, foreigner," the man said. "Why have you come to Guahiri?"

Was that the name of the planet? Not Exa-40? Huh. That was way cooler. "I am a voyager from Nuvis of the Sigme K94 Cluster," she replied. "My calculations revealed that Guahiri is the location of the Athepaliah. I have come to find it and search it for the secret to curing the Plague in my planet."

The man frowned, sheathing his knife into a scabbard hidden in his wide sleeves. "The Plague?" He tilted his head to one side as if mulling over the word. "What does it look like?"

Page stuck a lip out. "Well, the air turns acidic, the ground dries up, and for some reason, everything just...dies," she said. "Including us."

"Sounds like the Blight," the man answered. "What you witnessed out there—the relentless winds, the aridity—that is what we're dealing with on this planet. Like yours, my home is dying as well."

"And why haven't you cured it yet?" Page fired. "You have the Athepaliah. This Blight or whatever should have been purged."

The man turned away and started walking deeper into the forest. "That is because the Athepaliah is a desperate soul's fever dream," he said, his voice carrying over the quiet foliage. "It doesn't exist."

Page stalked after him, crossing her arms. What was his deal? Why should he be a Devia Downer all of a sudden? "I'm still going to try," she insisted. "And if I find it, you're going to eat your boots."

"In a world you are not familiar with? With the Blight still in place?" The man chuckled, as if the mere thought of Page's existence amused him. "Suicide would be a faster mercy."

"You can yak all you want," Page said, veering away from the man's path and hiking her steps up. "But I'm still going to try. Thanks for saving me back there, and sorry for trying to kill you. Have a nice day."

She marched on. Whether the man followed her or not was the least of her concerns. She could do this.

She has to.