The loud sound of thunder woke me briefly, but I didn't have enough strength to get up. I felt like I was losing all my senses and couldn't even move my limbs or breathe properly. I don't know how long I lay there, but when I finally woke, it was already morning. I was sitting on the edge of a forest, looking out at an unfamiliar yet beautiful lake. Confused and disoriented, I tried to check my body and my surroundings. Oddly enough, I was naked but unharmed. Strangely, my old marks and wounds seemed to have healed completely, the tattoo on my right arm was mystery gone, and my body felt noticeably lighter. There was still a faint burnt smell and a burning mark on the ground around me. Then I tried to walk through small gravel beach at the lake shore to see my reflection. I saw my younger self, maybe around twenties.
"What the hell is going on right now?" I thought to myself. Panic, cold and shivering gripped me. My first instinct, overriding the shock of my reflection, was a primal urge to survive. The beauty of the lake suddenly felt less inviting, more like a potential source of danger or, at best, a necessary resource. I scanned my surroundings more intently. "Where was I? How had I gotten here?" At first, I thought about walking along the lakeshore, but when I looked past the beach, there were only cliffs. Then I looked back at the forest and saw a human-made stack of stones with some scripts mark on its, and a path leading to the rocky slope of the mountain. So, I decided to drink some water before following that path, hoping to find someone.
The path was narrow, barely more than a well-worn track through the early spring undergrowth. Soggy ground, still soft from the snow melting, sinking a little when I stepped on it with my bare feet. Patches of old snow, stubbornly clinging to the shaded hollows and the northern sides of moss-covered boulders, glistened with a faint, icy light. The air was cool and carried the mingled scents of wet soil, decaying leaves, and the sharp, clean fragrance of pine needles warming in the weak sunlight that filtered through the thin tree branches above.
As the path climbed gently upwards, the terrain became rockier. Twisted roots snaked across the track, and I had to watch my footing carefully. The forest here was denser, the evergreens creating a hushed, almost cathedral-like atmosphere. The only sounds were the occasional drip of melting snow from a high branch, the rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, and the distant, almost ethereal murmur of flowing water.
The path rounded a bend, and the trees thinned, offering glimpses of the wider landscape. To my right, the ground sloped steeply down towards a ravine, where the sound of rushing water grew louder. Through the bare branches, I could see flashes of white as the stream tumbled over rocks. To my left, the mountain rose sharply, its flanks still streaked with long patches of snow that seemed to glow against the dark rock.
The air grew noticeably moister as I continued, the scent of wet moss and fresh earth becoming stronger. The path began to descend again, winding its way towards the sound of the water. Soon, the trees opened into a small, sun-dappled glade. In the center, a clear spring bubbled up from the earth, surrounded by lush green moss and the first brave shoots of wildflowers – tiny splashes of purple and yellow against the muted tones of early spring season.
Kneeling beside the water spring, tending a small fire pit where a blackened pot placed, was the girl. Her features were distinctly Asian, with big round eyes as dark as the moonless night that widened slightly as she looked up. Her thick, dark braid, adorned with beads of bone and wood, swung gently as she moved. Layers of fur and supple leather protected her from the chill. The gentle sounds of the spring mingled with the crackling of the fire, creating a peaceful counterpoint to all the crazy questions that still echoing in my mind.
Before I could utter a single word, her eyes darted around as if searching for an escape route. Then she scrambled to her feet and bolted down other narrow path leading away from the spring, disappearing quickly into the dense undergrowth. A high-pitched cry, sharp and urgent, echoed back through the trees – a clear cry for help. Of course, I thought grimly, if a naked stranger suddenly materialized in front of me in the quiet of the forest, I might run away screaming too. The hope of finding help evaporated, replaced by a fresh wave of isolation and the chilling realization of how alarming my appearance must be.
"Stop! Stop! Please don't run away!" I cried out, my voice hoarse, as I stumbled after her along the narrow path. My bare feet slapped against the muddied soil and tangled roots. Ahead, through the thinning trees, a faint light flickered, growing steadily brighter as the path opened into a wider space. It looked like the end of a natural tunnel formed by the dense foliage.
Emerging from the trees, I saw them. A group of men stood there, their sturdy horses shifting restlessly beside them, their breath misting in the cool air. Their appearance was striking. Some had high cheekbones and dark, straight hair that fell to their shoulders, reminding me vaguely of depictions of Native American or Siberian tribes. Others had broader faces and epicanthic folds, a look that triggered a distant association with Mongolian. Their clothing, however, was far from the vibrant silks and ornate designs I'd seen in modern documentaries. Instead, they wore practical layers of rough-hewn leather and thick furs, stitched together with sinew, offering protection against the elements. Some wore simple fabric tunics beneath the leather.
As the girl's cries reached them, their hands moved swiftly and instinctively to their weapons. Gleaming bronze and dull iron swords were drawn from scabbards, catching the faint light. Recurve bows, crafted from wood and horn, were lifted, arrows nocked with practiced ease, the tips aimed directly at me. Their eyes, hard and assessing, stared with a mixture of suspicion and hostility. The air crackled with tension.
The forest path itself, now behind me, was a winding ribbon of earth and stone, hemmed in by dense undergrowth and the looming shadows of the ancient trees. The early spring foliage was still sparse enough to allow the dim morning light to penetrate in dappled patterns, highlighting the wary faces of the tribesmen and the sharp points of their weapons. The scent of pine and moist soil hung heavy in the air, now tinged with the underlying tension of the encounter.
I raised both of my hands slowly, palms open, a universal gesture of peace. I stood still, trying not to appear threatening, and spoke clearly in English, hoping that someone might understand. "Hello, friends. I'm Kris. I come in peace." I touched my chest, gesturing towards myself, and repeated my name slowly and deliberately. "I'm Kris."
Later, I would come to understand that they had misheard my name, Kris, as their word "Kiris" which meant "to enter." Consequently, they believed I was asking for permission to join their tribe. The circumstances of my arrival only deepened their confusion and awe: a completely naked stranger appearing out of nowhere at their sacred Mountain, a place where even their own people have to ask permission to go in from the Shamans, No other tribes dared to step foot there, so their initial reaction, before suspicion took root, was to believe I was a messenger, perhaps even a manifestation, sent by their gods.
They welcomed me with hospitality and temporarily named me "Kirisen", the one who enters. I became a special guest of "Temurel," the Iron Hand. The chief of the Altin clan, the leading lineage of the noble Mountain Wolf, the Tagh Boru tribe. He was also the adopted father of Aycecek, the girl I'd encountered earlier. After they sent someone to investigate the mountain, they decided to make Aycecek my personal caretaker. So, I spent most of my time with her, learning their language and about all the tribe's matters. At first, their language sounded somewhat Arabic to me, but later I recognized some familiar-sounding words: "Tanri and Temurcin"—the Sky and Little Iron.
Based on what they told me, the Mountain Tribes originated south of the Great Lake, east of here. And later migrated to the mountains west of it. It was there that they first learned about mining and blacksmithing from Northern Tribes. After several generations, the Altin clan moved westward until they settled in the mining areas of the northern part of this mountain range. Then the Western Tribes brought large herds of horses, introducing a new nomadic pastoralist lifestyle to the region. Originally, all the tribes here were hunters, gatherers, or fishermen before the first group of people from the Western Great Steppe brought their livestock here, long before the Western Tribes arrived. Northern Tribes who resisted the herding lifestyle moved further north, intermingling with some reindeer herder tribes in the tundra of the Far North and Northeastern regions.
There were also Eastern Tribes, from which Aycecek came. They originally resided in the Far East and then moved west to the east of the mountain range, with some living in the Southern Desert. Her clan had a severe territorial conflict with another eastern clan in the desert south of this mountain range, which ultimately led to her clan's annihilation. Her injured mother carried her, riding horseback until she lost consciousness on the mountain passes leading north to the Tagh Boru settlement. Temurel found little Aycecek wandering alone on the third night after the battle. He decided to adopt her and had his wife give her a new name in their language: "Aycecek," the Moon Flower. This was a stark contrast to her birth name in her tribe's language, "Udenerel," which meant Sunshine. Symbolizing her new rebirth as a flower under the moonlight.
And lastly, there are the Wall People from the Southern Plain. They are far more advanced than the tribes here in many aspects, clearly being an ancient people of the central plains—the Chinese civilization. Their advancements in agriculture and technology attract people from many tribes to move south to raid or trade with them. And here, east of the Eurasian Steppe – the very birthplace of the modern Turkic peoples. The Altai Mountains, mountains of the Altin clan. North of the Chinese civilization, The question is: which dynasty is it now?