I took a step toward the grazing beast, my head held low, face full of wonder.

  Raising my hand, I got closer and approached from behind, taking slow steps to not alarm the beast.

  When I was in arms' length, I reached out and gave it a few gentle pats on its rear, to which the beast let out a gentle rumble.

  The animal craned its head at me, snorted, then returned to chewing the wet grass. Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t just grass. It was eating tiny insects, too. They looked like worms, but with short, stubby bodies.

  Cashius told me these were a delicacy to the strange creature and that the insects only appeared after a fresh rainfall.

  I stepped back to observe the peaceful creature, taking in its furry hide, narrow neck, and huge, purple-tinted eyes.

  And believe it or not, each creature was already equipped to be ridden—saddle, bit, and reins included.

  More of the game logic pervades reality. The kind I didn’t mind, because I was sure riding one without a saddle would be a pain anyway.

  The six-legged animals sat low to the ground, with wide shoulders, and walked on their knuckles like prehistoric gorillas.

  Sparks hovered near my head, sending out a mix of emotions. Ones that hit me as anxious or surprised.

  When she settled, I peered into the Atarax’s eyes, hoping to connect with the animal the way I might with a dog or cat.

  Upon staring into those six-legged creatures' eyes, nothing. It felt like gazing into a pane of empty glass, like the programmers had left that part out.

  Cashius explained that this was a pack animal, domesticated thousands of years ago. Any sense of individuality had been bred out of them. What remained was a calm, obedient creature, built for service.

  Standing there, rubbing its back, the creature let out a low rumble. Similar to a cat purr. The harder I rubbed it, the deeper the vibration felt.

  A breeze blew, signaling the end of the storm. I took a deep breath, then turned my attention back to the Atarax, leaving nature to nature. The thunder and lightning had come and gone, leaving us in their wake. What was left was bright sun hanging in the afternoon sky.

  Bracing myself, I hoisted myself onto the creature’s back and settled into my seat.

  After I've had a good wiggle, I can say that it actually felt like mine.

  Raising my eyes, I saw Cashius had already mounted his and given it a name.

  “Spike,” he called it.

  I shook my head and twisted my mouth into a tight smile when I heard it, but I also raised my brows—considering the man’s attitude, it fit.

  I, on the other hand, was still caught up in the creature’s beauty. I marveled at how my hand moved against its soft fur and marvel at its six muscular legs.

  A musky scent filled my nose, bringing back memories of childhood field trips to the zoo. I remembered pressing my face against the cages, taking in the heavy mix of hay, animal musk, flies, and stink that clung to the air inside those enclosures.

  I remembered the monkeys having the strongest scent. These animals weren’t as loud as those stinky-ass monkeys, but the smell was still going to take some getting used to.

  I rubbed my hand against the soft, supple leather of the saddle, shifting my weight to keep from flying off if the animal got startled. Just as I settled into a comfortable position, an interface appeared with a soft, bell-like chime.

  Name your steed.

  The words glowed in white against a blue background.

  I mulled over a couple of names before calling out, “Misty.” A soft chime followed, and a new message appeared explaining how mounts worked.

  Atarax are one of many animals you can claim and ride to your destination. Like any other creature you bond with, you cannot bring them into towns or encampments.

  Once bonded, you can summon your mount from anywhere in the world with a whistle.

  To gallop, kick its side, and the creature will move forward.

  To increase speed, kick it twice.

  To stop, pull up on the reins.

  “That’s it? I was expecting something much more complex,” I said to Cashius.

  He sat up straight. “Nothing to it, right? Just give it a kick and we’re off.”

  “After you, old man.”

  He lifted his leg and gave the Atarax a light kick to the side. The animal took off at a steady pace, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

  I did the same, feeling the ground shift beneath me as my mount jogged along behind Cashius.

  Sparks returned to my shirt pocket while we rode through the majestic terrain. Her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the area for anything or anyone that might mean trouble. The vest she wore clung tight across her back, and honestly, she gave the impression she could kick some serious ass if it came to that.

  But now that we were out of the forest, the world began to open up. More terrain to cover and more monsters to bash. New dangers waiting to be explored and conquered.

  I pulled up the map and checked the name of the zone we were in: Belxizi.

  I played with the interface, toggling features on and off. Why hadn’t I done this before? Who knows. But with the peaceful ride, I figured I’d see what I could uncover.

  I selected “settlements” from the legend, and various structures appeared. All of them were hollowed out like a set of blueprints.

  Some were vacant castles. Others came across as ruins that probably held rare items or tougher enemies.

  And one place, not too far from where we rode, still had people in it. An old mining town named Penders. A place with a population of 59.

  After some convincing, I got Cashius to agree to stop and check out a few shops. You know, get properly geared up for what was approaching. He threw me a smirk before getting back to his cigar. “Only a pit stop, then we’re moving on,” he grumbled from atop Spike.

  Next, I selected “creatures” on the map, and hundreds of little red dots appeared.

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  Some were big. Others small.

  In the center of the zone, a giant dot moved back and forth.

  Cashius told me those were mini bosses. Each one held powerful loot, but at my level, it was best to leave them alone unless we had no other choice.

  It seemed like each zone had three or four monster types. Some were stronger versions of ones I’d already encountered. Others were completely new.

  I turned on the name filter while studying the map and saw the list of monsters I’d be facing in this zone.

  Veilwolves. Shadespears. And believe it or not—leprechauns.

  I toggled the map to the lower left of my heads-up display to stay alert.

  With this added information, there would be no more random encounters. And for anything that crept or used sneaky tactics, Sparks would alert me.

  Twelve hundred and something miles to go before we entered the Harshlands. A lot of distance to cover, but with Misty and Spike with us, we’d make it in a couple of days.

  Cashius sped up quite a bit, forcing me to do the same. Now we were moving at 70 mph. At this pace, we might reach our destination even sooner.

  The only thing we had to worry about was Atarax’s durability.

  If they ran for too long, they might become stubborn, as Cashius called it.

  A stubborn steed didn’t do much of anything but trot until its stamina returned, which was a load of shit if you ask me.

  Fortunately for us, a gauge appeared to let me know when my mount was reaching its stubborn point. Small and hovering just under her neck.

  When the gauge first appeared, I tugged the reins and slowed down.

  Cashius did the same thing once he noticed I wasn’t close to him anymore.

  Up ahead, I spotted a couple of Veilwolves—big, ghostlike hounds with ice for teeth.

  I tried to hop off Misty and fight them, but Cashius told me I could kill them from the saddle, and that it was way easier than getting down and swinging my sword.

  Cashius fell behind, and I swung my sword as the ragged-looking hounds attacked.

  Hacking at them and carving big chunks of flesh, I did a pretty good job. Seconds later, orbs and gold would rush into me.

  Cashius returned to my side, and we continued on our journey.

  After an hour or so, the town of Penders came into view—just a water tower and some strange mechanical structure visible from this distance.

  We pushed on, preparing to meet the small population and buy whatever supplies they had available. Neither of us knew what to expect, but we hoped everything would come together by the time we left.

  We hopped off Butch and Misty with a thud of dirt rising from our boots. Sparks came out of my pockets and zipped around. Her tiny body was glowing faintly in the late afternoon sun.

  I turned my head up and stared at the sign looming before us.

  The structure, made of metal, was pieced together into a lopsided arch with bolts and scraps, acting as a kind of doorway into the town.

  “Penders” was written in big, bold letters across a rusted, yellowish sign. Some of the letters were smeared and in need of repainting. The ‘S’ looked like it came from a completely different font, as if whoever made the sign forgot how to spell and just grabbed whatever was nearby.

  I brought a hand to my face and coughed as a smell of something sulphuric drifted across. That mixed with the dusty wind made it damn near unbeatable.

  Cashius pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around his mouth like a bank robber from an old movie. He cut his eyes toward the few people walking our way, his gaze full of suspicion.

  Too old and cranky to fall for empty pleasantries, he walked like he expected to be assaulted at any moment. Like trust was something he’d thrown out a long time ago. And what was left was stone-cold apprehension.

  “Howdy, partners,” one of the men said, voice way too cheery. “Welcome to Penders.” He reached out his hand. “Cormac here saw you from yonder, and I wanted to come down and give you a proper welcome.”

  I gripped his calloused hand and gave it a firm shake.

  He smiled, missing one of his front teeth. “I’m Calvin, and you two gentlemen are?”

  “Name’s Lamont and him,” I pointed. “His name is Cashius.”

  One glance at the clothes they wore told me they worked in the town’s mine.

  Dirty, ragged pants. Oily, dust-covered shirts. Faces that reminded me of aged leather. They stood there, smiling and rocking in place.

  I turned my attention from the duo greeting us to the water tower in the center of the city, curiosity rising. “What are you digging for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  They glanced at each other. “The coal mines have been empty for years,” the one named Calvin said. “Nowadays, we refine zephyr.”

  Cashius gave me a side-eye. “And what’s that?” he asked, unbothered.

  That’s when Cormac stepped in. “Oh, just something we humble folks use for fuel. It was plentiful until the Bogart came and halted our production.” He wiped his shirt. “Now we mainly scrounge for little bits near the river, though it’s never enough.”

  Calvin grabbed Cormac by the arm and pulled him a few yards ahead. And even though they thought they were whispering, I heard every word the dusty duo shared.

  “Don’t bother these people,” Calvin said, glancing in our direction before turning back to Cormac. “We don’t know if they’ll help or just add to our problems.”

  “Only one way to find out, and that’s to ask.”

  Cashius pushed his handkerchief down, then pulled out a cigar and clamped it between his teeth. “I knew it. Another fucking side mission,” he muttered, reaching for his lighter. “Part of the reason I was hesitant to stop in this nothing-ass town.”

  “Stop spazzing. I could use the XP and whatever else they’ll give me for completing it,” I shot back. “And besides, we need supplies.”

  He scoffed then lit his cigar. “You say that, but you haven’t seen a Bogart. And nine times out of ten… It’s the red dot in the center of this zone.” He had pulled up his own map.

  His cigar smoke drifted my way. I swatted it out of my face and waited for Calvin and Cormac to return.

  They walked up, one shuffling his feet, the other holding the lower portion of his shirt.

  “Do you fellers want a drink? And maybe hear a proposition?”

  I nodded while Cashius frowned. “You’re paying,” I said.

  Cormac let out a weak smile. “We wouldn’t ask you to pay for this cheap swill. But it’s the least we can do—if you’ll hear our offer, that is.”

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  The two led us through the town. All seven buildings, with one being a general store that I would visit again after I listened to what these two gentlemen had to say.

  People eased outside, standing on their porches. A few kids stopped playing kickball as we passed. Their clothes and faces seemed just as worn down as Calvin and Cormac’s.

  We passed the water tower on the way to the bar. The whole time, I kept wondering how the old thing was still standing. Looked like a strong wind could topple it. Wooden legs warped with age, rusted pipes dripping water all over the place.

  Pathetic is what it was.

  The rest of the buildings weren’t doing any better. Paint peeled, steps were broken, and dingy curtains hung inside dirty windows. This place could use a good washing and a couple of coats of fresh paint.

  Maybe Cashius was right about this place after all. Maybe we should’ve passed it by and continued our trek to the Harshlands.

  Still, something spoke to me. I couldn’t tell you what it mumbled, but I had to decipher whatever it was trying to get across. Never mind if it got me in a whole mess of trouble. The reward would be worth it—or so I hoped.

  Besides, my last side quest earned me one of the best weapons I've had so far. Solving this one might net even better rewards or more gold. At the very least, I’d get more XP, and that was always a good thing.

  Glancing around, I figured this town couldn’t afford to give us a proper reward, let alone any gold. The real reward had to be on the Bogart—or in the loot I’d collect after I defeated him.

  As we walked, Cormac and Calvin kept staring back and grinning like we were the answer to their prayers.

  Cashius tossed his cigar to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. “This better be worth it,” he muttered.

  The saloon they led us was like every other building we’d passed, except this one had a brand-new door and a large, spotless window that stuck out like a broken toe on a busted foot.

  It didn’t matter. We let them lead and crept up the steps behind them, trading glances before stepping into the dim, gritty house of liquor and waiting to hear what they had to say.

  The place reminded me of something out of , minus the people.

  An old piano sat in the corner, its wood chipped and its keys exposed through busted panels. The only real difference between this and the version in the game was that the game had people.

  This hole in the wall was damn near empty.

  A ragged-looking man leaned over the bar, wiping it down with a filthy rag.

  Two patrons.

  Both drunk as a skunk.

  One was halfway falling off his stool, and the other was rolling a cigarette, his eyes shifting between us and the job at hand.

  I nodded at him and walked over and took a seat at the bar while Calvin and Cormac went to get the drinks.

  Cashius tugged at the handkerchief around his neck, and I tapped my fingers across the bar.

  The bartender shot me a glance.

  I paused, then tapped again. “So where is everyone?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at the empty room. “Nobody drinks here?”

  Cormac quickly filled the quiet. “Calvin, tell our friend that joke you like to tell while Kinsley pours the drinks,” he said, flashing a near-toothless grin.

  “Okay, it’s not that funny, but it cracks me up,” Calvin laughed.

  I turned in my seat. “Well?”

  “It goes like this,” he said, still giggling. “Why did the scarecrow win a rewa—?”

  Cashius cut him off. “Because he was outstanding in his field.”

  We all shut our mouths and stared at Cashius, who peered ahead, never breaking his focus.

  After the moment of awkwardness passed, the bartender set our drinks down and went into the back.

  I smelled mine, wondering why Cashius was in a bad mood.

  Cashius took a sip. “Please get this dang request over with so that I can move on. Time is running out.”