Sunlight swept past the flaps on the canvas tent with a hint of campfire carrying on the crisp morning wind. The distant crash of glacier water rushing past river rocks pulled Samson from his light sleep as the day called for him to awaken. He rolled to his knees and crawled out, his sour breath blowing back at him as he yawned and emerged to bathe in the sunshine. Warm rays poked through the wooden columns zigzagging across the mountains like umber brush strokes, and he squinted from the brightness.

Crouched over the saucepan dangling above the firepit, stood the grey-haired man who he had come to call his friend. His dark eyes cast a sideways glance towards Samson as he walked over, yawning.

"Sleep ok?" the old man's gritty voice asked.

"No. I'm having those pains again."

"Mm," he grunted. "Maybe breakfast will turn things around."

"Maybe."

Samson inhaled deeply, his eyes searching over their camp. He had another dream—a memory that was forcing its way—that was pushing him to remember his previous life. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to see the images again, but his mind was as foggy as the mist that often coated the forest floor.

"Out with it," his old friend said. "What's on your mind?"

"I've been having dreams."

"It'll happen from time to time. I still have them, but its come to a point where I can no longer tell if they're memories or just stories that my mind made up."

"How do you do it? How do you go on without remembering a thing of the past, other than your name?"

"You just do." He shrugged and stirred the contents of the pot over the fire. "In my mind-in these dreams I have, I see a woman with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and a laugh that brightens her entire face."

"A girlfriend or wife, perhaps?" Samson quirked his brow.

"No. I get the feeling she was kin."

"Hmm."

"Do you ever have memories like that?"

"Yeah." Samson nodded. "This morning actually. Except it was a man. Brown eyes, dark hair, sun-drenched flesh like mine, and there was something about him..."

"An old lover?"

"No. It was his face..." Samson rubbed his jawline. "It was similar to mine."

"Father?"

"No. Younger."

"Brother." His friend nodded, the sunlight catching his silver hair.

"Yeah, maybe."

With a hunting knife in hand, his companion motioned to their surroundings. "You know I found you not too far from here. Maybe we can stick around. Explore the area and see if anything jogs your memory?"

"Did you ever go back to where you were found?"

"No. I don't think I'll find answers there. My instincts say to keep wandering. Keep looking."

"But what if the answers are all right there, where you were found?"

"They're not!" His friend set down the spoon with a clang.

"I think you're scared."

The old man cast him a sharp side-stare. "I might not remember who I am, or where I come from, but I do know one thing. I'm not scared of anything."

"No, you're certainly not."

Samson's eyes drifted to the river where it shimmered like a glittery carpet under the rays of the morning sun. Marauders had become rampant over the years while traveling with the older man through the wasteland. There were several occasions when his companion showed him that age was merely a number, and how a person's will to survive was infinite. Just a few days prior they faced off with a group that was looking to strip them of their valuables. When his friend whipped out a machete and whacked at the legs on one of them, the thieves knew right then and there, that they'd picked the wrong men to mess with. Their run-ins with wasteland scum often ended that way.

"Remember when you found me," Samson said.

"I do."

"You said I looked dead."

"Because you did. You were at the bottom of that canyon and being dragged by coyotes. They were going to feast on you, but I heard you groaning, so I scared them off. It was the right thing to do." He shrugged and did a taste test of the beans cooking in the pot.

"Why did you stick with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You took me east for medical help. You could've left me there, but you didn't. You stayed with me."

"Guess I saw a little of myself in you." He shrugged again. "Plus, I remembered what it was like to wake up alone, and not having any idea where I was. Figured the least I could do was be there. Never thought we'd still be here years later, looking out for each other, and sharing blurry memories."

"You're a great friend, Armis."

"I'm your only friend," he chuckled.

"So what's on the agenda for today?"

"Let's keep going north. We'll kill two birds with one stone. We'll hunt, and see if the area jogs your memory. Sound good?"

"Sure."

After breakfast and a cold dip in the icy river to bathe, the men packed up their camp to head further north. Seven years had passed since his friend found him, and for seven years, they'd been wandering together as a collection of aching bones and lost memories. As the forest grew denser, the ground greener, and wildlife more abundant, Samson could feel something churning in his belly. None of it was familiar to him, but there was something causing the hairs on his neck to electrify.

Maybe it was the way his moccasins glided across the earth with ease as if he'd walked those steps before? Or maybe it was the way the sky above them groaned with a complaint of thunder that rolled across the distant mountains?

"The gorge I found you in is about a quarter-mile from here." Armis pointed a wrinkled finger. "At the time, there was good hunting in the area, and it might still be fruitful now. We can stop by the cave I used to sleep in and wait out this rain if it gets bad."

"Sure. You're the one who knows the area. I'm just following you."

"I reckon you know this area better than I do." Armis wagged his finger. "You just don't remember."

"I suppose you're right, but you've been here before, and for now, you know it better than I do. So tell me, what's up here?"

"Similar to the other territories, the fortress is somewhere around here and serves as the main hub for the smaller communities sprinkled about the mountains."

"Really? So why didn't you take me there after finding me? Why drag me all the way east?"

"You were halfway to hell when I found you. In my experience, you don't end up that way because someone likes you. If I took you to the fortress, there was a chance whoever left you for dead might be there. So, I took you east."

"Makes sense..." Samson mumbled while chewing on some squirrel jerky. Armis slowed to a stop and brought a wrinkled hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the glow of the sun hiding behind the overcast sky. Drops began kissing their skin, causing Samson's lids to flinch as he looked away from the clouds. "What are you thinking, old man?"

"Thinking this rain will get rough, so let's make haste of scouring the canyon, and then we'll find that cave."

Despite the clouded sky and rhythm of small water drops drumming their backs while they walked, Samson's face developed a thin layer of sweat. His old companion, on the other hand, seemed unphased by their trek as he breathed steadily with half the supply of camping equipment on his spine. Samson adjusted his bag, causing the cooking ware to clank as it jostled about, but he froze in his tracks when Armis whipped around with a finger slapping to his mouth.

The hairs on his neck, vibrated with the wind, knowing that somewhere out there was a predator of some sort. A bear, perhaps? Armis twitched his nose, sniffing the air, while his eyes shifted - taking in the dense forest of giant redwoods.

"I think its just the wind carrying the scent from somewhere farther..." He spun around, still searching.

"What did you pick up on?" Samson asked. "A bear?"

"Not sure, but the air definitely changed. It's that feeling, you know? The one where your gut tells you that something is amiss."

"Maybe you're just getting old and your senses are off."

"Old my ass! Maybe I'll just let the coyotes eat you this time."

The smile faded on Samson's mouth.

"That's what I thought," Armis grumbled. "Now let's hurry before it starts to pour."

When they got to the canyon, there were scattered puddles shimmering across the barren patches of the forest floor. Bright rays bounced from the clouds reflecting in them, making the atmosphere hazy with its light. Samson shielded his eyes and continued to press forward, while Armis used a branch with spindly fingers of pine to brush the ground, looking for animal tracks. His old friend was always searching. Always alert. He was often cavalier about his lost memories, but the dolorous that clung to his weathered jowls revealed more about how he truly felt. It was a pain that Samson had grown to know well. Something he fought with daily.

Not knowing who he was, or where he came from, but even worse, why someone wanted him dead, was a struggle he held to his chest like armor. It was an identity he had come to adopt, much like his friend.

"That's it right there..." Armis pointed above the cliffs.

When Samson raised his head, it took him a moment to see the fortress through the trees atop the canyon, but there it was with its tall towers scraping the clouds. "It's huge."

"Most places like that are, and they're usually run by someone with a lot of influence." Armis brushed aside more debris with the branch and sighed. "So, is any of this ringing any bells?"

"No."

"That's too bad. I think we should camp in the cave, and come morning we can get closer to the fortress to scope the place out. They were involved in a war a few years back, so I doubt they'd let us go inside, but at least we'll be able to see who's coming and going, which is better than nothing."

"Sounds like a solid plan."

The cave was hidden by a veil of broken redwood branches hanging like defeated limbs to cover the dark crevice they would call home for the night. A chilly breeze grazed Samson's clammy cheeks as he entered the cave just a few paces behind Armis to find a shallow space perfect for two. Within minutes, they set up camp and had a fire going with rabbit meat stewing in a pot. They chewed their dinner quietly, and afterward laid across their respective sleeping bags to relax their weary muscles. Armis dozed off quickly, but Samson remained awake for a while. The cave was comprised of two crags that nature had smooshed together over time, allowing just a sliver of moonlight to filter through a crack in the ceiling. Samson stared at the glowing crescent that winked at him as clouds drifted past.

If only he could remember how he ended up at the bottom of the gorge. If only he could remember anything. It would certainly rub a soothing salve over the pains he often felt in his back and legs, or the headaches that spurred out of nowhere—pain which came to be due to whoever left him for dead.

As his thoughts tumbled about, his eyes eventually closed and he was off in a deep sleep.

∆∆∆

When morning arrived, Samson was being nudged from a vivid dream of faces—memories of an old life of him running through the forest, dressed in camouflage, and a person running beside him—grinning. It was a face like his. The same man he saw in his dream the previous morning. He bolted upright, his heart racing, and his eyes wild as he stared at the man crouched over him.

"Easy, easy," Armis said. "It's just me."

"I was dreaming again..." he mumbled while rubbing his eyes.

"I figured."

"What time is it?"

"Seven," Armis said, snapping his pocket watch shut before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his red flannel shirt. "We should head for the fortress. It's still early enough that we should be safe from anyone spotting us."

Leaving their camp intact, they ventured out of the cave while chewing on more squirrel jerky to fill their bellies. A fine mist quilted the ground, only to puff away like velvet ropes parting for them. Twigs snapped at the weight of their feet as they made their way to the fortress perimeter. When they finally arrived, they remained in the treeline, crouched amongst the shrubs, and passing a set of binoculars back and forth. Guards paced the top of the wall, but it was the only sign of life they could see.

"This is pointless," Samson groaned and pressed the binoculars into Armis's chest. "Let's go."

"Wait." Armis nudged him. "The gates are opening."

The entrance screeched as its massive wooden doors slid open, and Armis began crab-walking the treeline towards a better view. Samson crawled along after him with eyes glued to gates as it slowly revealed what existed beyond it. His hands paused in the dirt when he saw a procession of people walking out.

The very man he saw in his dreams at night, was walking with a woman who's long dark hair cascaded over one shoulder. Their hands were twined, her belly engorged with life while carrying a toddler on her hip. He held the hand of a small boy while another skipped alongside them. Samson's lungs began to burn from forgetting to breathe, and he finally exhaled as it all hit him at once.

"Magnus..." he whispered.

"Hm?" Armis crooked a brow.

But Samson ignored him as he watched his brother bend down to kiss the belly of the woman. "Estera."

"Are you remembering?"

"That's my brother," his voice rattled, and he raised his finger to point. "And that's the woman who tried to kill me."

Anger bubbled up his throat like boiling water in a pot, and he began to rise from his crouched position when Armis tugged him back down. Samson shoved against his friend's chest, and their arms tangled as he tried to fight him off, but Armis pinned him down and slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Listen here!" Armis hissed. "I don't doubt that you're feeling all shades of livid right now, but think this through. From what I can see, your brother has three sons, and a baby on the way with the woman who tried to kill you. So either he was in on it, or he has no idea about the enemy he sleeps with. I might be old, but I know about survival, and if you want that woman to pay for what she did to you, then you cant go marching over there with a hothead. You have to plan these things. Do you understand?"

When Samson nodded, Armis uncovered his mouth, and let him roll to his knees.

"Having her pay for the years she robbed from me isn't enough. My father probably stepped down at some point—leaving Magnus in charge, and I can only imagine the corrupt charms Estera has whispered into my brother's ears. It's not him running that place. It's her."

"Sounds about right. So the question is, what do you want to do about it?" Armis eyed him.

"I want to take this place back. I want to take away her power, and I want you to help me."

With a pat to Samson's back, Armis said, "And I will. Together, we'll get this fortress back into the hands it deserves."

As they returned to their cave, the headache Samson felt earlier began fading. Some of his lost memories were returning, and he would use them to place his chess pieces.

He would use them to take Estera down.

~The end~

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Thanks SO much for joining me throughout the journey of this novella. I hope you enjoyed it!

If you're ready for your next read, check out my Water series... 👇🏽