Ana listened in silence at first, one hand braced against the side of the craft as it cut through the calmer water, the other absently pushing wet strands of hair out of her eyes. Salt and river mist still clung to her clothes and skin, and she looked every bit like someone who had just survived something spectacularly unpleasant. She did not complain about it. She rarely did.
Instead, she focused on Aya's words.
Flies with parasites. Snakes the size of speeders. Monkeys that stole anything not bolted down. Cursed ruins and narrow paths.
By the time Aya finished, Ana had a fairly complete mental model forming in her head. It was not a comforting one.
She let out a slow breath through her nose, glancing at the charts as they hovered in front of Aya's hand.
"So," she said evenly, her tone dry but thoughtful,
"we're dealing with hostile terrain, aggressive wildlife, biological hazards, unstable ruins, and a population that does not like outsiders."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And we're doing it while wet, tired, and carrying things everyone wants to steal."
A pause.
"Good. That's…efficient. Saves time."
There was the faintest hint of humor in her voice, the kind that only surfaced when things were objectively terrible.
She shifted her footing as the ship adjusted course, then glanced toward the dark line of islands in the distance, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the silhouette of the Black Coast.
"If the river was used by sailors, that means there are predictable currents and sediment patterns," she continued, slipping naturally into analysis.
"Which means certain sections will be safer than others, even if locals don't think about it that way anymore."
She looked back at Aya.
"Do we have any old maps? Trade routes? Logs? Anything pre-collapse?"
Then, after a beat:
"Because if people keep dying in the same places, it's usually not a curse," she said calmly.
"It's bad information."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the canopy beyond the riverbanks.
"As for the wildlife…" She shrugged lightly.
"If it bleeds, it follows patterns. Feeding routes. Territory. Nesting zones. We can work around that."
When Aya mentioned her aunt, Ana's expression softened just a fraction.
"An isolated fortress. On the far side of dangerous ruins. Run by someone who hates visitors," she summarized.
"I'm guessing she's either very competent, very stubborn, or both."
A small, wry smile touched her lips.
"Which means she's probably our best chance of getting through this alive."
She adjusted her damp jacket and settled back against the railing, eyes forward now, steady and focused.
"Just…let me know when we reach the part where the brain-eating flies start," she added lightly.
"I'd like a minute to emotionally prepare."
Mistral
Ana Rix
