PRIMORDIA

Arkady'd been clever to make me drink. I woke long past noon out of a dreamless sleep.

He was still in his chair, slumped over. Lisichka pressed herself hard against his legs and growled at me.

"Go out," I said. "You know why I came." I opened the door so she could squeeze through.

I steeled myself. Despite everything this would never have been my choice.

In the moment of permutation, every muscle in my body contracted and then released. The spectrum shifted and my blood surged in an exultation of power.

I bent over Arkady, scenting his familiar smell beneath the reek of alcohol and sickness, and I almost broke my promise. Then — in one quick snap I finished it.

The change back is always a sort of surrender and diminution and I had to fight, now, not to give voice to everything I felt. I rubbed my mouth clean before letting Lisichka in and set out food for both of us — smoked meat and trout — and I finished off the pryaniki.

We curled up together to sleep.

***

Arkady'd packed the sled with everything he wanted me to have, and provisions to last us through. It was heavy but Lisichka was big and strong and I'd be running alongside her where I could. Better not to be slowed by the need to hunt.

"Don't look back," I told her. As I fastened the harness I saw it in her eyes, the remembered pleasure of willing service to the one you love. But she was hurt and angry too and we had no time for grief.

The crust was well-frozen and the sled's runners had been waxed till the wood had the feel of silk. We'd leave no tracks, heading silently for home.

Behind us, Arkady's cabin ignited; a pillar of fire against the moonless sky.

***

Evil is everywhere but life is stronger. It can't be stopped.

Mushrooms are growing now inside the reactors and birds nest throughout the Sarcophagus. Their babies are odd hatchlings but they still learn how to fly.

The water is cold again, with a pleasurable bite on the tongue.

Even in the Red Forest, death is giving up its hold. A strange new beauty is visible. The beginning of time must have looked like this — these colors; secret constellations beneath the black dirt. Our eyes were fashioned to see it.

Their clever science can't figure it out — why the old women who refused to leave Pripyat are so healthy and strong. It goes against everything they know.

We know better. The Creator's promise is fulfilled, and to us, His original children. After the apocalypse, paradise.

Poachers try to sneak in all the time.

We welcome them.

I'd told Lisichka. We have the best hunting here.