Rin Anastasia Bjorn. Brave New Worlds

10.01.2024

© A. Bjorn, 2016

© AST Publishing House LLC, 2016

Part one
Introductory

The World After... This is how it became after what in the past would have been called the Third World War. But no one knows what actually happened there; perhaps they know in the Cities - but I haven’t been there for a long time...

My place is here, behind the walls. Where there is no control, where trees still grow, where rivers still flow, where animals live. There is food and water. I'm not alone behind the walls. There are villages here. But these are rather communities of people united by the desire to survive. It is possible to get into villages, as well as into cities, but it requires a fee. Most often, people running behind fortified walls have nothing in their bosoms. Most often, these die without ever getting inside.

I'm not one of those people. I always have something to offer. And I always have a reason to leave again - that’s why they willingly let me in.

They let me in.

But they don't like it.

In the World After, they don’t like loners at all. Because people who can survive alone are dangerous.

* * *

I silently knead my shoulder and take aim again. The forest is full of sounds - they hide my presence, as well as a spreading bush with still green leaves...

The sound scared the third one away. There's no time to wait. Throw!

I straightened up, leaving my hiding place, stretched, stretching my numb arms and legs, and walked up to the three carcasses of hares. They are suitable for sale: the skin remains almost intact - I always rush to those areas where the cut will go. In addition, this year hare meat is considered a delicacy - due to wolves, there are very few of them left in the area. I was lucky that these three moved together.

I myself am indifferent to meat, but in the villages it can be exchanged for bread, and I have a weakness for it that is terrifying even to me. Nothing can be better than fresh, crispy bread straight from the oven... Well, as soon as I thought about it, my stomach responded with a mournful aria...

It's strange that I still use these words. It’s strange that I still remember what an aria is and in what case the epithet “mournful” can be used. Especially with regard to an empty stomach.

The world collapsed more than fifteen years ago. I was twelve then... But I did not forget how to speak in complex sentences and did not become a professional hunter, hiding in the forest and gaining combat skills through long grueling training. With me everything was much more complicated... However, now is not the time for memories.

I pulled out the throwing daggers that I had acquired in one of the villages about five years ago from the dead carcasses, picked up my loot and accelerated - the path from the forest is not close, and today I’m not spending the night at home: my food supplies do not require replenishment, but my clothes...

And bread. In the village I can buy bread.

But first - clothes. In addition, the cold weather is approaching and I need to think about where I will spend the winter months.

Actually, this is the main reason why I go to that particular village - I have connections there and a place to stay for the night for free. Maybe I’ll stay in it... Yes, most likely it will be so.

I picked up my speed and started running lightly. Thirty minutes and I’ll be there. Entrance fee – one carcass; new leather pants with a fur vest - another carcass; five loaves of fresh, crispy salty bread - another carcass.

Yes, bread is now worth its weight in gold. Because the fields are practically not protected, and people sow wheat and rye at their own peril and risk. Protecting such a large territory requires just as much money for mercenaries, and people in villages most often somehow make ends meet themselves. By the way... This is an idea - to work as a mercenary in the winter. But for this, my third carcass will need to be spent on a sword, which means that I won’t have enough for bread...

They stopped using pistols as soon as they realized their uselessness. Now something like swords is in use; and I say “something like”, because professional blacksmiths were hard to find even in the normal world during the day, but in the World After not everyone survived... Real swords taken by looters from surviving museums or from the homes of collectors who died during the war were extremely rare. the time of the Great Destruction - due to the consequences of what is called the Apocalypse of Our Days. Many years ago, in one of the surviving Cities, I heard scientists call those events AED. But in villages they more often say: “Great Destruction”; moreover, they do not say these words in vain, and if they hear them somewhere, they begin to pray frantically. But prayers, like crosses or holy water, will not save you from the misfortune that has started in the World After. It is rather a deterrent for the people themselves. But I will never say these words out loud...

I adjusted my leather lovelettes on my arms and walked down the hill; the village of "Ten" was located on a plain and had the largest area of \u200b\u200bploughed land. The numbers of the settlements that arose in the World After were fixed in the names, although now few could say with certainty whether the village was the tenth, or whether it was now the ninth. If not the eighth. Only I and people like me can say that this is so, but, for obvious reasons, we remain silent. You shouldn’t deprive people of hope when they have nothing to hope for in principle. No, normal life is only possible in cities, but there, if you don’t work and don’t contribute, you don’t eat. Yes, this is the total difference between villages and cities: here people had the opportunity to eat. In cities, people had the opportunity to survive.

This is the dilemma.

And everyone chooses their own path according to their heart. Although, to call “life” existence from feeding to feeding or from the arrival of darkness to its departure... No, it can only be called in one word - Survival. But not life.

I stopped at a tall gate, four times tall, and knocked on the closed passage.

- Rin. Huntress. “I’m with the prey,” I answered briefly and loudly.

My legend for all villages is so that there are no questions about what I am doing BEHIND the walls. And where do I live... well, for each of the settlements there was a different answer.

“I don’t know you,” came the voice from behind the door.

I rolled my eyes and took a step to the side, and then squatted down - and met the eyes of the gate guard. Only those who had already been to the Ten knew about this “window”. And not all of them, but those who were close relatives of the village guards. Or not exactly relatives...

- Now you know. “Open it,” I said dryly, looking into the surprised eyes of the young boy.

New guy. It won't last long.

The sound of the lock opening and I was finally able to go inside.

– Have you been here? – a very young guard abruptly switched to “you”, considering me as the seventh wonder of the world.

He was so thin that I doubted the usefulness of his “skills”, however, in the World After there are almost no fat people left...

- Where are the others? – she asked quietly, ignoring his stupid question.

“We left to guard the fields, now we’re picking potatoes,” the boy willingly shared his rather secret information.

“Lock the gate,” she advised him, silently handed over the entrance fee and walked forward without further ado.

The boy himself would hardly have thought to ask now, but I didn’t know how long I would stay here, so I considered it advisable not to spoil relations with the local government.

Village "Ten". Rows of low wooden houses, sometimes darkened and rickety, sometimes newly built, bright, with windows and linen curtains; six streets, divided almost equally into shopping and residential streets; the ground trampled to perfect evenness underfoot is black, without any vegetation, and an impressive plowed field a kilometer from the walls, on the other side. Here life was in full swing, here it was almost the same as in the City... with one single exception: the people here were tempered in spirit, because they knew that life is fleeting, and death can come at any moment, from any side...

I decided not to put off purchasing new things, and besides, the evening was approaching. And with the evening darkness came, so I had little time.

I turned onto a shopping street full of tents made of faded awnings, and, after walking several rows, I stopped at the most dilapidated and unsightly: the things here were the oldest, in some places there were holes, in others they were moth-eaten, but... that one, who knows, it will never pass by. It was not for nothing that this tent was the largest in length, and its owner was the most cunning son of a bitch in the entire World After.

“Bazhen,” I bowed my head in greeting.

Another misfortune of modern villages is that everyone here bears Christian names. And even those who are already a damn cloud of years old, and who were born long before the Great Destruction and the emergence of the World After... call themselves by a second name, taken from the list of godly ones. They renamed themselves. They were forced to adapt. In villages there is generally a problem with fanatics... but for our time this is probably normal. I don't presume to judge.

“Rin,” the cunning old man stretched his lips.

Bazhen was one of the lucky owners of all thirty-two teeth. At seventy years old, he retained a jaw full of enamel... however, this was not the only way he differed from most of his fellow villagers.

“Let’s go inside,” he nodded into the depths of the tent, and I silently followed him.

Tall, thin, gray-haired, in good, discreet clothes, he gave the impression of an honest salesman - which he was not. Bazhen was one of the few who knew: you can sin if you don’t make mistakes and don’t cross the line. If any of the foremen, as the residents of the village “Ten” called themselves, had found out that grandfather Bazhen had his own black market, he would have been crucified. Or they would cut off his head. I forgot a little - what do they do for fun in the Ten?

Behind me, a tall fellow pulled the curtain, hiding us from the other customers.

- Hare? – Bazhen turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

I unzipped my canvas bag and pulled out several snake skins.

“It’s another matter,” the old man stretched a smile on his lips and began to examine the pattern on my “board,” and I went to the far corner and pulled out a small wicker box from under the counter, littered with junk.

Inside were pants that matched me... black.

– Isn’t there a dark green color? – I asked without emotion.

Black is not the best color for a forest.

– Can’t you get a velvet bolero? – Bazhen responded sarcastically, looking up from his skins. – Where can I get you dark green ones?

“We’ve passed,” I turned away and continued to rummage through the box.

But a fur jacket of my size was found only in light gray.

“You’re kidding me,” I muttered, indifferently looking at the completely new thing.

“Rin, Rin... at least once asked for lace lingerie or stockings with garters...” Bazhen dramatically shook his head, complaining about my lack of feminine weaknesses.

“What kind of sinful thoughts are these, old man?” Do you want to get filth on your gray head? – I responded apathetically, immediately starting to take off my old clothes.

“Don’t say this out loud,” Bazhen said unexpectedly seriously. - Even here.

- And what happened? – I raised my eyebrows slightly in a semblance of surprise. “Have you really become a righteous person too?”

The pants fit perfectly - a couple of days, and the skin will stretch so that it will no longer be felt on the body, but with a fur vest there was a problem: such a color would be all the more noticeable among the greenery. All my camouflage activities came to naught with such an acquisition. True, I couldn’t help but admit that the clothes were good, and in combination with my dark hair and gray eyes, black skin and fur of a similar color must have looked good...

But I didn’t dress for beauty.

“Bazhen, I won’t take this...” I started, but then I fell silent - seeing the expression on the old man’s face. - What happened to you? – I tilted my head to the side. – Did I hurt your feelings? How long ago have you become such a believer? – I asked him indifferently.

“It’s not about my faith,” answered the old man, looking at me through narrowed eyes, “it’s about the new shepherd of the Ten.”

- What now? – Anticipating something was wrong, I calmly asked.

“He burned two people last week for dark spots on their wrists.” And one more – the year before last, when I first came to office. Because that man looked with desire at the married woman.

“That’s... disgusting,” I cursed without emotion, stopping the process of undressing.

“He didn’t even wait for her to appear,” Bazhen nodded. – I simply prevented this process. In advance.

“Your business is bad,” I drawled, pulling back my fur vest.

Finding a more suitable product in such a situation has become almost impossible...

So, because of just one person, dozens could have suffered. When such fanatics reach their positions, life becomes incredibly difficult for ordinary people: one wrong move, even one wrong thought - and you can be burned at the stake, crucified or beheaded. Not a single fanatic will allow filth to appear on the body of his flock. The strangest thing is that most often they themselves end their lives, being affected by this infection.

- And how are you? – asked, without looking at the merchant.

Bazhen sold all sorts of junk for ordinary people. And for those in the know, he sewed expensive clothes to order: the kind in which a person could pass himself off as another person when he came to the next village or even to the City. This type of activity was prohibited, and Bazhen’s workshop was considered one of the main points of sale of illegal goods. I had no idea what he was going to do with the snake skins and who would even wear it in the World After, but I knew that if Bazhen demands such a fee, it means there is a demand for it.

-Are you going to stay here for the winter? - asked the old man, hiding my loot in a hiding place located under an inconspicuous hatch right in the ground.

“I thought about it,” I responded indifferently, wondering whether it was worth spending the last carcass on bread, or whether purchasing a sword would still be more expedient.

“I don’t advise you to do this,” Bazhen said unexpectedly sharply, “if life is precious, run away from here.”

“Explain yourself,” I suggested, a little colder than usual, quietly placing my hand on the sling with the daggers.

“People here have completely lost their heads with fear.” But not from fear of sin, but from fear of the pastor,” Bazhen calmly answered, folding his hands on his chest, “you cannot help but light up.” Although you pretend that you are indifferent and have completely forgotten how to use emotions, I know that this is not so.

He again, without noticing it, jumped from the village “shepherd” to the city “pastor” - which betrayed his excitement.

“I don’t care what’s going on here,” I answered just as calmly. “People can come up with a lot of ways to die even when the only thing they need to do is to unite against what lives behind the walls.”

– This is what I’m talking about. You came from behind the walls. You don’t bother yourself with creating a true legend, but what can I say? Even I myself have no idea how you survive there... - something strange appeared in Bazhen’s gaze, which earlier, in that other world, I could have taken for a spark of concern. “But that’s why here and now you are a target for the pastor.” Beware of him. As soon as he finds out about you, and he will definitely find out about you - the report of the wall guards always comes on time - he will be aware of who came to our God-forsaken village.

“Well, judging by the energy of your pastor, she has not been forgotten by God at all,” I noted, removing my hand from the daggers.

“Remember what I told you: people are afraid of him,” Bazhen repeated for some reason.

“So, soon they will all be infected with filth,” I said indifferently over my shoulder and left his tent.

It was not customary for us to say goodbye; I waved my hand to the guards so that they would remember me in case there was a need to give me something from their owner, and went forward to the food tents.

Choice. There was a choice here.

I don’t love him until my hands tremble: in the World After, the presence of two or more possibilities for the development of events does not lead to anything good... Never.

So I take five salted rolls, completely ignoring the shelf with sweet pastries.

Part one
Introductory

I'm not one of those people. I always have something to offer. And I always have a reason to leave again - that’s why they willingly let me in.

They let me in.

But they don't like it.

In the World After, they don’t like loners at all. Because people who can survive alone are dangerous.

* * *

I silently knead my shoulder and take aim again. The forest is full of sounds - they hide my presence, just like a spreading bush with still green leaves...

The sound scared the third one away. There's no time to wait. Throw!

It's strange that I still use these words. It’s strange that I still remember what an aria is, and in what case the epithet “mournful” can be used. Especially with regard to an empty stomach.

The world collapsed more than fifteen years ago. I was twelve then... But I did not forget how to speak in complex sentences, and did not become a professional hunter, hiding in the forest and gaining combat skills through long grueling training. With me everything was much more complicated... However, now is not the time for memories.

And bread. In the village I can buy bread.

But first - clothes. In addition, the cold weather is approaching and I need to think about where I will spend the winter months.

Actually, this is the main reason why I go to that particular village - I have connections there and a place to stay for the night for free. Maybe I’ll stay in it... Yes, most likely it will be so.

They stopped using pistols as soon as they realized their uselessness. Now something like swords is in use; and I say “something like” because professional blacksmiths were hard to find even in the normal world during the day, but in the World After not everyone survived... Real swords taken by looters from surviving museums or from the homes of collectors who died during the war were extremely rare. the time of the Great Destruction - due to the consequences of what is called the Apocalypse of Our Days. Many years ago, in one of the surviving Cities, I heard scientists call those events AED. But in villages they more often say: “Great Destruction”; moreover, they do not say these words in vain, and if they hear them somewhere, they begin to pray frantically. But prayers, just like crosses or holy water, will not save you from the misfortune that has started in the World After. It is rather a deterrent for the people themselves. But I will never say these words out loud...

This is the dilemma.

I stopped at a tall gate, four times tall, and knocked on the closed passage.

- Rin. Huntress. “I’m with the prey,” I answered briefly and loudly.

My legend for all villages is so that there are no questions about what I am doing BEHIND the walls. And where do I live... well, for each of the settlements there was a different answer.

“I don’t know you,” came the voice from behind the door.

- Now you know. “Open it,” I said dryly, looking into the surprised eyes of the young boy.

New guy. It won't last long.

The sound of the lock opening and I was finally able to go inside.

He was so thin that I doubted the usefulness of his “skills”, however, in the World After there are almost no fat people left...

- Where are the others? – she asked quietly, ignoring his stupid question.

“We left to guard the fields, now we’re picking potatoes,” the boy willingly shared his rather secret information.

“Lock the gate,” she advised him, silently handed over the entrance fee and walked forward without further ado.

Village "Ten". Rows of low wooden houses, in some places darkened and rickety, in others newly built, bright, with windows and linen curtains; six streets, divided almost equally into shopping and residential streets; the ground trampled to perfect evenness underfoot is black, without any vegetation, and an impressive plowed field a kilometer from the walls, on the other side. Here life was in full swing, here it was almost the same as in the City... with one single exception: the people here were tempered in spirit, because they knew that life is fleeting, and death can come at any moment, from any side...

I decided not to put off purchasing new things, and besides, the evening was approaching. And with the evening darkness came, so I had little time.

“Bazhen,” I bowed my head in greeting.

“Rin,” the cunning old man stretched his lips.

Bazhen was one of the lucky owners of all thirty-two teeth. At the age of seventy, he retained a jaw full of enamel... however, this is not the only way he differed from most of his fellow villagers.

“Let’s go inside,” he nodded deeper into the tent, and I silently followed him.

Behind me, a tall fellow pulled the curtain, hiding us from the other customers.

- Hare? – Bazhen turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

I unzipped my canvas bag and pulled out several snake skins.

Inside were pants that matched me... black.

– Isn’t there a dark green color? – I asked without emotion.

Black is not the best color for a forest.

– Can’t you get a velvet bolero? - Bazhen responded sarcastically, looking up from his skins, - Where can I get you dark green ones?

“We’ve passed,” I turned away and continued to rummage through the box.

But a fur jacket of my size was found only in light gray.

“You’re kidding me,” I muttered, indifferently looking at the completely new thing.

“Rin, Rin... at least once asked for lace lingerie or stockings with garters...” Bazhen dramatically shook his head, complaining about my lack of feminine weaknesses.

“What kind of sinful thoughts are these, old man?” Do you want to get filth on your gray head? – I responded apathetically, immediately starting to take off my old clothes.

- And what happened? - I slightly raised my eyebrows in a semblance of surprise, - Have you really become a righteous person?

The pants fit perfectly - a couple of days, and the skin will stretch so that it will no longer be felt on the body, but with a fur vest there was a problem: this color would be all the more noticeable among the greenery. All my camouflage activities came to naught with such an acquisition. True, I couldn’t help but admit that the clothes were good, and in combination with my dark hair and gray eyes, black skin and fur of a similar color must have looked good...

But I didn’t dress for beauty.

“Bazhen, I won’t take this...” I began, then I fell silent - seeing the expression on the old man’s face, “What’s wrong with you?” – I tilted my head to the side, – Did I hurt your feelings? How long ago have you become such a believer? – I asked him indifferently.

“It’s not about my faith,” answered the old man, looking at me through narrowed eyes, “it’s about the new shepherd of the Ten.”

- What now? – Anticipating something was wrong, I calmly asked.

“He burned two people last week for dark spots on their wrists.” And one more – the year before last, when I first came to office. Because that man looked with desire at the married woman.

“That’s... disgusting,” I cursed without emotion, stopping the process of undressing.

“He didn’t even wait for her to appear,” Bazhen nodded, “He simply prevented this process.” In advance.

“Your business is bad,” I drawled, pulling back my fur vest.

Finding a more suitable product in such a situation has become almost impossible...

- And how are you? – asked, without looking at the merchant.

Bazhen sold all sorts of junk for ordinary people. And for those in the know, he sewed expensive clothes to order: the kind in which a person could pass himself off as another person when he came to the next village or even to the City. This type of activity was prohibited, and Bazhen’s workshop was considered one of the main points of sale of illegal goods. I had no idea what he was going to do with the snake skins, and who would even wear it in the World After, but I knew that if Bazhen demands such a fee, it means there is a demand for it.

“I thought about it,” I responded indifferently, wondering whether it was worth spending the last carcass on bread, or whether purchasing a sword would still be more expedient.

“I don’t advise you to do this,” Bazhen said unexpectedly sharply, “if life is precious, run away from here.”

“Explain yourself,” I suggested, a little colder than usual, quietly placing my hand on the sling with the daggers.

He again, without noticing it, jumped from the village “shepherd” to the city “pastor” - which betrayed his excitement.

– This is what I’m talking about. You came from behind the walls. You don’t bother yourself with creating a true legend, but what can I say? Even I myself have no idea how you survive there... - something strange appeared in Bazhen’s gaze, which earlier, in that other world, I could have taken for a spark of concern, - But that is why here and now you are a goal for the pastor. Beware of him. As soon as he finds out about you, and he will definitely find out about you - the report of the wall guards always comes on time - he will be aware of who came to our God-forsaken village.

“Well, judging by the energy of your pastor, she has not been forgotten by God at all,” I noted, removing my hand from the daggers.

“Remember what I told you: people are afraid of him,” Bazhen repeated for some reason.

“So, soon they will all be infected with filth,” I said indifferently over my shoulder and left his tent.

I don’t love him until my hands tremble: in the World After, the presence of two or more possibilities for the development of events does not lead to anything good... Never.

So I take five salted rolls, completely ignoring the shelf with sweet pastries.

“It’s a good skin,” the woman standing behind the counter smiled joyfully, looking at the carcass of the hare I killed. “Five rolls for it is not enough.” Take some more kvass,” she bent down and took out a liter bottle of the sweet and sour drink from under the counter.

I was pleasantly surprised - perhaps for the first time in a long time. Such generosity could not be found throughout the southwest, and I visited more than one village... Bazhen said that people here lost their heads from fear? Well, fear of their own shepherd has a positive effect on the local population.

“Thank you,” she said dryly to the saleswoman and quickly put the bottle into her bag.

Now we can think about spending the night... Having inhaled the smell of bread at the baked goods stand for the last time, I turned around sharply and walked towards the sleeping streets.

Damas was one of the Ten's hired guards who settled here several years ago. His house was located on the street closest to the gate, among the dwellings of mercenaries like him: discreet, but clean, not new, but intact - without cracks or rotten boards, this house was one of the few that I was not allowed to visit. just a necessity, but also... a need.

“Rin,” a tall, broad-shouldered man in his forties (I never asked his exact date of birth), with black hair and the same black eyes, looked at me, standing in the doorway of his house.

He was wearing rough trousers and a faded T-shirt that had once been as black as its owner's hair; I had simple flip-flops on my feet, which brought a slight smile to my face... although, if I wore heavy boots for twenty-four hours a work shift, I would also prefer something loose for my feet and not restricting the flow of air to my feet.

Damas must have been handsome. I understood little about this. I knew only one thing - he knows something about me that allows him, just like me, to take advantage of our acquaintance.

“Damas,” I responded, deciding not to waste time on greetings, and silently went inside the house.

“You’re taking a risk by coming to me before dark,” said the man, whose voice contained as much warmth as mine: that is, not at all.

We knew who we were and we didn't see the point in stupid displays of emotion.

- What, are you afraid of your new shepherd? – I asked with barely noticeable sarcasm, taking three rolls and kvass out of my bag.

Perhaps it’s worth really thinking about joining the ranks of mercenaries. Even for half the price.

“Everyone is afraid of him now,” Damas responded, carefully following all my preparations.

“But not you,” I gave him the same attentive look.

“You should be afraid of him,” the guard answered a little softer.

“Unless the lazy one told me about this today,” I responded indifferently, taking a bite of a crispy bun and barely managing to suppress a groan of pleasure.

Damas chuckled. So, I still didn’t have time...

The man walked to the shelves roughly nailed to the wall and took out two clay mugs. It's not that he didn't have others, it's just that Damas knew how I felt about metal and plastic. Drinking from them is not very pleasant, and there is almost no glassware left in the World After.

- Be careful, okay? – the man pushed a mug full of a delicious drink towards me, which I immediately, under his gaze, emptied without taking my eyes off him.

“It’s strange to hear something like that from you,” she answered him honestly, starting to look at the muscles on his shoulders, the swollen veins on his arms, his wide neck, his large, but hard, as I knew, lips...

I put down the half-eaten bun and got up from the table.

“Let’s go,” she said to the man, whose eyes darkened so familiarly and whose pupils dilated.

Damas rose after me, and we went into the far room, the wall of which was covered with some strange fabric that insulated sound. There was a large wooden bed, covered with slightly faded but clean linen, a small bedside table and a wardrobe with weapons.

I took off my fur vest and threw it right on the floor, because I knew it was as clean as everything in this house. Damasus was a business man. I still didn’t understand why he didn’t get himself a wife?

Following the vest, a figure-fitting, dark green jacket fell to the floor - it had a couple of holes, but I loved this thing, so I wasn’t going to part with it...

Following the vest, I pulled off my new pants, leaving me in sports underwear. Running through the forest in a thong was as uncomfortable as sleeping in a bra with underwires and hard cups. Such luxury remained in that old world. And no matter how Bazhen tried to persuade me, I considered it great stupidity to purchase something like that for the dubious pleasure of contemplating my figure in a more attractive form.

I looked up at the man and felt my heart begin to beat faster. It was one of the few ways I could get my body to actually respond to something. Yes, when I came to Damas, I felt that I was alive. What can I feel, what can I feel...

The man, who had managed to get rid of his T-shirt, abruptly approached me and with two rude movements got rid of the remnants of my clothes.

I didn’t know how to properly respond to compliments, so I decided to remain silent, letting him look at me, and then I couldn’t resist and reached for his pants.

“Take your time,” Damas grabbed my hands, stopping their movement and continuing to look at my body, “I haven’t seen you for a very long time.”

I knew that the examination would not last long, so I allowed him that too. Moreover, I liked the desire with which the man looked at me - it gave me pleasure. And it made my heart beat faster. And the next moment my body was already laid on the bed, and the remains of my clothes were thrown aside, and I felt truly alive...

I didn’t know why I remained immune to the most important scourge of the World After.

Fel. It appeared on people's bodies in the form of small black spots on the skin; a few days after its appearance, it could disappear if people completely stopped sinning and devoted themselves to prayers with all their hearts. But, if a person continued to allow sinful thoughts into his head, after a few days his entire body became covered with filth, and he himself turned into a Sinner - an unconscious creature whose mind has only one goal - destruction. Destruction of everything around. Sometimes even self-destruction: I often saw Sinners with their fingers bitten off or with missing skin on some parts of their bodies. They do not know what they are doing, they live only by instincts, their whole essence is one complete sin. Sinners can be recognized by their eyes, shrouded in a veil, almost black, spotted skin, and by abrupt, illogical movements if they still have clothes on that hide their essence.

But the Sinners were not the greatest danger of the World after: yes, they killed people and most often ate them, but they could be dealt with, they could be killed, - unlike...

“I want more,” she told him honestly and turned over, straddling the man.

His hands greedily squeezed my hips, and his body instantly responded to my desire. I lingered a little on his wide chest, covered with small drops of sweat, on his strong hands squeezing my skin, on the soft dark hairs that went down to where our bodies were almost connected into a single whole... Damas sharply lifted me up and just as sharply lowered it down, forcing me to scream from the feeling of fullness. And then we both surrendered to the sensations, forgetting about time, sleep and food.

A few hours later, I lay on the man’s chest and looked at the soft flame of candles placed around the perimeter of the room. The shadows will not get into the house, but protection from them must last all night - this was one of the laws by which the World After existed.

Shadows are the greatest threat to those who survive. They emerge from the darkness, never move alone, and never leave anyone alive behind them. Only gray-haired and crazy people. What kind of scourge this is, the world has not figured out, but it is much more difficult to fight than the Sinners: the forests around the villages have been completely cut down, and gas is the most expensive commodity of the World After. There is gas in the cities, but in the villages there is only fire and wood, and the hope that this will be enough to protect against the Shadows.

Damas gently caught my hand and lightly squeezed my wrist.

I tried to free my hand, but Damas was stronger.

“There are secrets, not knowing which will save your life,” she told him quietly, clenching her hand into a fist.

“It’s strange that you have secrets even from me,” Damas looked into my eyes, and I felt it necessary to directly meet his gaze.

“It’s natural that I have secrets even from you,” I said confidently, stroking his black dilated pupils.

Damas allowed me to claim my personal territory for a few seconds, and then he pulled me towards him and almost pressed me to the bed with his huge body.

“You trust me with your life when you come to my house, but you can’t trust me with a small piece of skin hidden under your gloves?” – his face was calm, but I saw discontent in the depths of his eyes.

“Yes,” I answered directly.

He was dear to me. I didn't want to lose him because of my softness. In addition, he was perspicacious - no one had ever wondered why my hands were almost hidden under soft black skin - and smart. And also - kind. And there weren’t many of those in the After World. For example, I only knew one...

“You’re stupid, Mira,” Damas said quietly; I sharply pulled out from under him, but the man held me back.

“Don’t call me that,” she said harshly, showing bad feelings towards him for the first time.

Mira is the name of a girl who survived the World After. Rin is a shortening of my last name and my new name. Mira was weak and made many mistakes, but it was she who once met Damas. I met him and followed him. I trusted him and was right. Damasus taught me how to throw daggers and how to fight. I was then about twenty-two, and he was a little over thirty-five. We started sleeping with each other as soon as we realized that no taint appeared on our bodies.

We must have somehow suited each other. I didn't know. And Damas did not know.

But he knew how much I didn’t like to remember the time when I was a weak, good-for-nothing girl who ran away from the City and survived, contrary to the logic of the new world.

Damas bent over my face and kissed me roughly on the lips - I resisted as best I could, but then I gave in and allowed him to take possession of my entire being again. It wasn't fair, he knew that kissing was forbidden between us. And he knew that it was difficult for me to resist him - when my desire was in no way inferior to his desire...

In the morning I was not sleepy, but full of strength and energy. Damas knew how to charge me for the week ahead, but today for some reason I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to stay - and it was scary. I silently got out of bed and went into the bathroom. Thanks to the boilers mounted on the walls, there was something like a shower here, naturally the water was cool - but I’m not fussy when it comes to comfort. The toilet was located right here, and was made especially for me - I could not risk Damas’ life by walking on his lawn early in the morning.

Only married couples whose marriage was approved by the local pastor could make love - such a relationship was pleasing to God and was considered sacred. Everything else is sin.

And in ordinary cases, defilement appeared on the bodies of such sinners, as if demonstrating to the whole world - look! These people have sinned!

Lust. One of the seven deadly sins.

I closed my eyes and turned the valve - the cool water immediately washed away all thoughts from my head. All except for one thing - for some reason Damas also remains healthy. Is our relationship really considered godly even without the pastor’s consent?..

But I knew for sure: all this pastoral activity is nothing more than a fiction. Being in a constant state of fear, people will not sin - that’s the whole philosophy of modern times.

However, corruption always appeared - this was tested by billions of lives...

When my body was dried with a clean towel, I gladly pulled on the same clean, dry clothes: somewhere in the middle of the night, Damas got up and washed my things while I slept. He always did this. He took care of me.

In the kitchen I was greeted by a half-eaten bun covered with a napkin and yesterday’s kvass, as well as vegetables from his personal garden. He spoiled me.

-Where are you going now? – the man asked quietly, appearing in the doorway.

- They won’t take you. “There’s not enough money,” the man grinned and sat down on the stool opposite me.

“I’ll ask for half the amount,” I responded.

- Why do you need it? – under his gaze I was a little embarrassed, but quickly pulled myself together – until he said the following words: “Stay with me.”

- And marry you? – I asked without looking at him.

- What's bad about it? Our connection is not affected by filth. “We are perfect for each other,” the man said without intonation.

“I’m not sure,” I answered briefly.

I really wasn't sure that this was what I needed - to settle in one of the villages for the rest of my life. My freedom was too precious to me.

But it seems Damas took my words differently. He darkened his face and turned away from me.

“I’ll go,” I got up from the table and grabbed my bag from the bench, “I’ll let you know if I can get a job as a village guard.”

- Today I will go to work. You will find me at the gate.

I remembered the small wooden tower that rose above the walls, where the guards' observation room was located, and nodded. And then she left his house without another word.

The village was just beginning to wake up, so there were few people on the street, and I didn’t immediately notice how the locals were looking sideways at me - for someone who is always a guest in small settlements, I had become too careless...

– Did you see where she came from? - they whispered from my right shoulder.

“No, but she turned the mercenaries off the street,” they answered from behind.

– Don’t say such words either to yourself or out loud! - they hissed from the other side of the small street as I walked past the rickety, darkened houses, - But so it is - she clearly left the bed of one of those libertines!

- How do you know that they are libertines?

- So if they sleep with a woman outside of marriage!

“She could bring corruption to our city!”

I clenched my jaw and quickened my pace.

It seems that I finally understood what Bazhen was talking about.

It was necessary to go to the vegetable gardens. And why didn’t I think?..

“The guard at the gate said that she was a huntress, and this is not the first time,” responded a girl almost my age, whose hair was hidden under a headscarf, as was part of her forehead.

- Whore! - they hissed from all sides - We need to call the shepherd! We don't need sinners in the village!

I stopped and turned to face the small crowd that had formed behind me.

“I can take off all my clothes, and you will see that there is no filth on my body,” she told them loudly, thinking to herself that I would not remove the head from my hands. In neither case.

Losing your clothes and exposing yourself naked is not as scary as taking off fingerless leather gloves.

“This won’t be necessary if you can explain why you came to my city,” a ringing tenor voice rang out from the people newly arrived at the spectacle.

I turned to the local pastor.

- To your city? - I asked indifferently, - Since when did villages begin to be renamed into cities? - I bowed my head, looking at a thin man in a floor-length pastor's robe, whose hair was so light that it contrasted incredibly with his black robe, - And since when did villages begin to belong to shepherds?

“Very recently,” the fair-haired man smiled softly.

“I came to Ten to buy myself warmer things,” she still calmly answered him, “And, perhaps, to get a job as a mercenary for the winter.”

– Where did you, God’s child, get the idea that we need mercenaries? – the pastor asked, continuing to smile good-naturedly.

“You’re right, we have a big field, and this year there’s a big harvest,” the pastor nodded, agreeing, “But what can someone like you offer my village?”

And again “mine”. Thank heavens, this time at least I didn’t call the village a city.

“My abilities will be tested by the one who will take me into service,” I snapped, looking at him confidently.

I didn't like him. I don't know what it is, but this is not what a pastor should be like.

For some time, tense silence hung on the street.

-Tell me why you followed her? – the pastor suddenly asked the women behind me.

“She left the mercenary quarter. In the morning. “Alone,” said the one whose face was almost hidden by a scarf.

“And you suggested...” the pastor invited people to answer for themselves.

- That she is fallen! – a woman shouted from the depths of the crowd.

“And I suggested checking it out right now,” I said quietly, placing my hand on the sling of daggers.

– What if she really is infected with filth? And turn into a Sinner right now? - a woman of about fifty in a dirty dress with her hair tied in a greasy bun wailed, - Who will protect us from her? After all, you yourself sent half of the mercenaries to extract oil - to an abandoned well!

I turned sharply to the speaker. Damas didn’t tell me about this... So he didn’t know?

“I can pacify her if she turns into a Sinner,” the pastor reassured the people on the street with the same kind smile.

My gaze was blank. And my thoughts gathered into one ironic question: “What are you talking about?!”

“Then she needs to show that there is no filth on her!” – an awkward chorus of voices rang out.

Are they currying favor with him?! I looked at the faces of those gathered on the street in disbelief. How much do you need to intimidate people so that they will so zealously defend the infallibility of the village, completely forgetting about the fourth of the seven deadly sins?

- Let him take off all his clothes! - screamed the girl, wrapped up to her neck in fabric.

Absolutely forgetting...

– What kind of celebration of life are you having here? – a drawn-out, lazy voice rang out.

I turned around one hundred and eighty degrees and looked into the face... who is it anyway? Some boss? And why are there wall guards behind him?

The man, whom I couldn’t even call a man—all his features were so refined—was even thinner than the pastor; I don’t know where these two were from, but obviously not from the villages in the area, because compared to the dozens of residents they looked... really skinny. So the one who spoke last was the dark-haired owner of the most bored face on earth. And he rode on a horse. That is... right now he was sitting on the back of an animal, looking with lazy interest at the show put on by the “righteous townspeople.”

-Where are you taking our guards? – the voice of that same woman in a dirty dress suddenly sounded in a prolonged pause.

What a smart girl. It’s immediately obvious that she has adapted to the After World.

– When did we get a new storage facility? – the woman was surprised, but under the gaze of the pastor she fell silent and lowered her head.

– Why did you come, Troy? – the pastor asked the black-haired man.

Exactly. They know each other.

“Just passing by, Gabriel,” Troy responded pompously.

Gabriel. Well, I chose a name.

“And I saw such a heartbreaking scene,” Troy continued in the meantime, “Do you want to undress this young maiden?”

– Are you the chief of the mercenaries? – I asked him.

Troy was surprised. Then he looked at me a little more closely.

“Yes, a young maiden dressed like Pocahontas,” he lazily mocked.

- I want with you. Will you take it? – I asked, not paying attention to his mockery.

“You’re impudent,” Troy laughed.

- Will you take it? – I repeated a little more quietly, adding threats to my voice.

“And dangerous,” Troy noted curiously.

Metis. A mixture of European and Eastern style. It seems - with Japanese blood.

- What can you do? – he asked a little more seriously.

“Everything I can do will be useful,” I answered confidently.

I must definitely fall under his command.

“Wait, Troy,” Gabriel raised his index finger up, looking incredibly friendly, “She’s accused of being infected with corruption.” I can't let her go with a group of men on a long journey.

- On a long trip? – I asked again.

- With a detachment of men?! - all the women asked, then turned their gaze behind Troy, to where the guards of the Ten walls stood in an even formation...

- HER?!! Yes, she re-infects everyone there!!!

Troy narrowed his eyes at the screaming woman, then turned his gaze to Gabriel. He crossed his fingers, folded his palms in front of his chest, and lowered his head:

– You should not accuse a person before his guilt has been proven.

I looked at the pastor incredulously. Wasn't he the one who accused me a few minutes ago? Was it not he who had previously held court for several villagers, despite the fact that there was not even filth on the body of one of them?!

What is he trying to achieve?..

Anastasia Bjorn

Part one

I'm not one of those people. I always have something to offer. And I always have a reason to leave again - that’s why they willingly let me in.

They let me in.

But they don't like it.

In the World After, they don’t like loners at all. Because people who can survive alone are dangerous.

* * *

I silently knead my shoulder and take aim again. The forest is full of sounds - they hide my presence, just like a spreading bush with still green leaves...

The sound scared the third one away. There's no time to wait. Throw!

It's strange that I still use these words. It’s strange that I still remember what an aria is, and in what case the epithet “mournful” can be used. Especially with regard to an empty stomach.

And bread. In the village I can buy bread.

But first - clothes. In addition, the cold weather is approaching and I need to think about where I will spend the winter months.

Actually, this is the main reason why I go to that particular village - I have connections there and a place to stay for the night for free. Maybe I’ll stay in it... Yes, most likely it will be so.

This is the dilemma.

I stopped at a tall gate, four times tall, and knocked on the closed passage.

- Rin. Huntress. “I’m with the prey,” I answered briefly and loudly.

My legend for all villages is so that there are no questions about what I am doing BEHIND the walls. And where do I live... well, for each of the settlements there was a different answer.

“I don’t know you,” came the voice from behind the door.

- Now you know. “Open it,” I said dryly, looking into the surprised eyes of the young boy.

New guy. It won't last long.

The sound of the lock opening and I was finally able to go inside.

– Have you been here? – a very young guard abruptly switched to “you”, viewing me as the seventh wonder of the world.

He was so thin that I doubted the usefulness of his “skills”, however, in the World After there are almost no fat people left...

- Where are the others? – she asked quietly, ignoring his stupid question.

“We left to guard the fields, now we’re picking potatoes,” the boy willingly shared his rather secret information.

“Lock the gate,” she advised him, silently handed over the entrance fee and walked forward without further ado.

The boy himself would hardly have thought to ask now, but I didn’t know how long I would stay here, so I considered it advisable not to spoil relations with the local government.

I decided not to put off purchasing new things, and besides, the evening was approaching. And with the evening darkness came, so I had little time.

“Bazhen,” I bowed my head in greeting.

I'm not one of those people. I always have something to offer. And I always have a reason to leave again - that’s why they willingly let me in.

They let me in.

But they don't like it.

In the World After, they don’t like loners at all. Because people who can survive alone are dangerous.

I silently knead my shoulder and take aim again. The forest is full of sounds - they hide my presence, as well as a spreading bush with still green leaves...

The sound scared the third one away. There's no time to wait. Throw!

It's strange that I still use these words. It’s strange that I still remember what an aria is and in what case the epithet “mournful” can be used. Especially with regard to an empty stomach.

And bread. In the village I can buy bread.

But first - clothes. In addition, the cold weather is approaching and I need to think about where I will spend the winter months.

Actually, this is the main reason why I go to that particular village - I have connections there and a place to stay for the night for free. Maybe I’ll stay in it... Yes, most likely it will be so.

This is the dilemma.

I stopped at a tall gate, four times tall, and knocked on the closed passage.

- Rin. Huntress. “I’m with the prey,” I answered briefly and loudly.

My legend for all villages is so that there are no questions about what I am doing BEHIND the walls. And where do I live... well, for each of the settlements there was a different answer.

“I don’t know you,” came the voice from behind the door.

- Now you know. “Open it,” I said dryly, looking into the surprised eyes of the young boy.

New guy. It won't last long.

The sound of the lock opening and I was finally able to go inside.

– Have you been here? – a very young guard abruptly switched to “you”, considering me as the seventh wonder of the world.

He was so thin that I doubted the usefulness of his “skills”, however, in the World After there are almost no fat people left...

- Where are the others? – she asked quietly, ignoring his stupid question.

“We left to guard the fields, now we’re picking potatoes,” the boy willingly shared his rather secret information.

“Lock the gate,” she advised him, silently handed over the entrance fee and walked forward without further ado.

The boy himself would hardly have thought to ask now, but I didn’t know how long I would stay here, so I considered it advisable not to spoil relations with the local government.

Anastasia Bjorn

Part one

I'm not one of those people. I always have something to offer. And I always have a reason to leave again - that’s why they willingly let me in.

They let me in.

But they don't like it.

In the World After, they don’t like loners at all. Because people who can survive alone are dangerous.

I silently knead my shoulder and take aim again. The forest is full of sounds - they hide my presence, just like a spreading bush with still green leaves...

The sound scared the third one away. There's no time to wait. Throw!

It's strange that I still use these words. It’s strange that I still remember what an aria is, and in what case the epithet “mournful” can be used. Especially with regard to an empty stomach.

And bread. In the village I can buy bread.

But first - clothes. In addition, the cold weather is approaching and I need to think about where I will spend the winter months.

Actually, this is the main reason why I go to that particular village - I have connections there and a place to stay for the night for free. Maybe I’ll stay in it... Yes, most likely it will be so.

Rin Anastasia Bjorn. Brave New Worlds

Part one Introductory

* * *

Part one Introductory

* * *

Part one
Introductory

Part one
Introductory