I step out of the cave.

The sky is wrong. Stars I don't recognise. The air is thin. Hard to breathe.

The grass is red. Autumn? Spring? I don't know. I don't know anything.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"The place where you slept," the dragon says. "It changed."

I look around. Hills. Ruins. A settlement in the distance. Wooden walls. Smoke. People.

"What's that?"

"Rigmuind. A human colony. Rough people. Their leader is a man with horns and a hammer."

"Horns?"

"It's been two hundred moons. Things changed. Humans spread like a plague."

"And magic?"

"Hiding. Hunted."

I stare at the colony. At the red grass. At the unfamiliar stars.

Then I see them.

Two men on the wall. Each carries a long metal tube. Stock. Trigger.

"What are those?" I ask.

"Iron sticks," the dragon says. "They make loud noises. Sometimes things fall down."

"You don't know what they are."

"I know they're dangerous. I've seen them kill. I don't know how."

"They're guns. Firearms. Like mine."

"Yours doesn't work."

"No. But theirs do."

I touch my arquebus. Old. Rusted. Empty.

"I was young when you slept," the dragon says. "I grew. But I don't understand this world. Not really. I just watched it change."

"Then we're both lost."

"Yeah," it says. "But at least we're lost together."