Date: March 16, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Morning arrived suddenly, announced by birds raising a ruckus in the bushes at the clearing's edge. Datuk opened his eyes and first saw the sky — clear, pale blue, without a single cloud. Beside him, Sobra stirred, shaking off the night dew, and drops flew from his fur in all directions.
"Enough," Datuk grumbled, wiping his face. "I'm wet enough."
Sobra snorted and, rising on his hind legs, stretched so his joints cracked. Datuk stood too, rolling his stiff shoulders. The fire had long gone out, leaving only a handful of gray ash, and the old shaman… was gone.
"Uncle Krogan?" Datuk called, looking around.
No one. Only the spot by the fire, flattened grass, and a strange pattern of stones laid around the ashes. Datuk looked closer — the stones formed a circle, with a spiral leading inward. A symbol of the path. Or of return. Or something else known only to old shamans.
"Gone," Datuk said, feeling both a slight pang of offense and a strange peace. Krogan didn't like farewells. He appeared when needed, and disappeared when the work was done.
Sobra nudged the pack where the honey pot and the two compasses lay. A reminder.
"I remember," Datuk untied the pack and shook the supplies out onto the grass. "First breakfast, then we decide whose compass to follow."
Breakfast was modest — flatbreads from home, dried meat, a handful of nuts. Sobra eyed the honey pot, but Datuk was firm: honey was for later, when there was cause.
"Alright," he said, putting the food away. "We'll do this fair. Mother said: no fighting to settle arguments. Only with your head."
Sobra sat opposite, front paws crossed, staring at the dwarf with an expression that clearly said, Alright, let's see what you've got.
First contest: riddles.
"Two rounds," Datuk announced. "I ask, you answer. Then you ask, I answer. Whoever gets more wins."
He thought, recalling the riddles his father used to ask on long winter evenings by the stove.
"What's heavier — a pound of iron or a pound of feathers?"
Sobra stared at him for a long moment. Then he lifted a paw and pointed at the cookpot they'd used for soup the night before.
"Same weight," Datuk realized. "Both a pound. Your win!"
Sobra snorted and accepted the challenge.
He scratched his ear with a paw, then nodded toward the fire, then at the sky, finally fixing Datuk with a deeply thoughtful stare.
"That's…" Datuk frowned. "A riddle without words?"
Sobra sighed with the air of a teacher dealing with a hopeless student, and scratched a circle in the ashes with a claw.
"Fire?" Datuk guessed. "The sun?"
The bear nodded at the second.
"The sun!" Datuk slapped his forehead. "It shines for everyone, but no one can catch it. Right?"
Sobra grunted contentedly.
"Score one-one. Tie for this contest. Overall score one-one."
Second contest: checkers.
Datuk drew a board in the dirt with a stick, using different colored stones as pieces. Sobra sat opposite, placing his paws on the board's edge.
Sobra won the first game. He played strangely, but effectively — poking a paw at the right square, and by game's end, Datuk had no pieces left.
"How do you do that?" Datuk groaned, gathering stones for the rematch.
Sobra made a sound like a snort and scratched his ear. I just know.
The second game went differently. Datuk, irritated, played aggressively, sacrificing pieces for position. Sobra, not expecting the onslaught, hesitated, and by the end, none of his pieces remained. Datuk's win.
"Checkers one-one. Overall score two-two."
Third contest: memory.
"Two rounds," Datuk said. "I lay out objects, you look, then I close my eyes and you move them. Then we swap. Fewer mistakes wins."
He laid seven objects on the grass: a stone, a twig, a dry leaf, a feather, a seashell, an acorn, and his old handkerchief. Sobra looked, nodded. Datuk closed his eyes.
A minute later, the bear nudged his shoulder. Datuk opened his eyes. All objects were in place… except the handkerchief, now on Sobra's head.
"You…" Datuk squinted suspiciously. "Did you even move anything?"
Sobra looked away, suddenly very interested in a bird in a tree. But he'd moved exactly one object, and Datuk hadn't noticed. A mistake? Or a trick? Did that count as a win? Datuk sighed.
"Alright, I lose this round. Your win."
Sobra grunted happily and laid out the objects for the second round — the same, plus a piece of meat he'd snagged from the pack. Datuk memorized the arrangement, closed his eyes. When he opened them, everything was in place… except the meat.
"Where's the meat?" he asked.
Sobra looked innocent and licked his lips.
"You ate my meat!" Datuk protested. "That's cheating!"
The bear shrugged and looked away. But eating the meat was still moving it, and Datuk had noticed.
"So I win this round," he said. "Tie again. Overall score three-three."
By midday, they'd tried everything they could think of. Each contest had two rounds, and each ended one-one.
Hide and seek. First round, Datuk won by hiding so well in a thick bush that Sobra searched ten minutes. Second round, Sobra won by burying himself in leaves, blending so perfectly that Datuk walked past three times before the bear nudged him.
"Hide and seek one-one. Overall four-four."
Treasure hunt. The first treasure — the honey pot — Sobra found in a minute, sniffing it through the pack. The second treasure — a flask of ale Datuk had buried under an old oak's roots — Sobra also found, though it took longer. Datuk, using his nose, dug up the flask faster, but the pot… the pot he never found, because Sobra had hidden it in his fur.
"That doesn't count!" Datuk argued. "You hid it in your fur, so it can't be considered found!"
Sobra sat with an air of utter innocence. They called it a tie.
"Five-five."
Who could sneeze louder. First round, Datuk won — his sneeze shook the nearby bushes. Second round, Sobra won — his sneeze was so powerful birds flew from the trees, and Datuk's ears rang.
"Six-six."
So it went until evening. Riddles, checkers, memory, hide and seek, treasure hunt, stone throwing, who could sit still longest — all ended the same. Each time Datuk won one round, Sobra won the other.
By sunset, the score was ten-ten.
Sobra raised his head, looked at him. In his amber eyes danced merry sparks, and Datuk understood: the bear had enjoyed this day as much as any fight. Maybe more.
"Alright," Datuk sat, brushing himself off. "If we can't decide with our heads, we'll decide another way."
He stood, rolled his shoulders, and dropped into a fighting stance. Sobra instantly rose, fur bristling, eyes lighting with familiar fire.
"Until exhaustion," Datuk said. "And no Spirits. I won't use mine, and yours… yours isn't for this kind of fight anyway. Wouldn't be fair."
Sobra snorted — agreed.
They came together. Datuk moved heavily but precisely, his fists whistling through the air, aiming for Sobra's sides and shoulders. The bear dodged with grace unexpected from such a beast, answering with paw pushes that sent the dwarf stumbling back.
This was their dance, their language, their way of understanding without words.
They circled, breathing hard, and at some point, Datuk realized he was smiling. Sobra seemed to be enjoying himself too. Time lost meaning. They exchanged blows, dodged, fell, rose. Datuk felt his strength fading, muscles trembling. Sobra slowed too, his breathing rough, movements heavy.
Finally, Datuk gathered his last strength and lunged for a hold. Sobra jumped at the same moment, and they collided mid-air.
The crash of their fall shook the nearest trees, sending dry twigs down. Datuk landed on his back, Sobra on top — heavy, shaggy, but without strength left to pin him.
They lay side by side, breathing hard, staring at the darkening sky where stars were beginning to appear.
"Tie," Datuk rasped.
Sobra made a weak, satisfied sound and licked his cheek.
They lay still for a long time. Then Datuk, with difficulty, reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin — old, worn, with a hammer on one side and a bear's paw on the other. He'd made it once, as a joke, for just such occasions when there was no strength left to argue or fight.
"Hammer — my compass. Paw — yours," he said.
Sobra nodded, and in his eyes, something like excitement flickered. Datuk tossed the coin. It glinted in the setting sun, flipped several times, and landed in the grass.
Bear's paw.
Sobra snorted contentedly and nudged his scruff, where his compass glowed faintly under the fur. Datuk put the coin away, feeling the familiar fire of anticipation kindle inside.
"Alright," he said, rising. "Lead the way, fuzzy."
Sobra sprang up, shook himself, and with a glance full of excitement, headed into the forest. Datuk grabbed the pack and followed, leaving behind the clearing where they'd spent this long day of arguments and laughter. Ahead lay the unknown, and that was the best thing that could happen to them.