Com certeza. A história agora se move para um novo e perigoso ambiente. A tradução buscará capturar a desolação, o frio e a tensão do primeiro encontro no Vale Fantasma.
He could finally breathe for real now. Air so pure and clean as he had never been able to breathe in the radioactive waste he had lived in his entire life. Despite everything, it was ironically this that worried him; it was so clear because of the cold that it could kill him from hypothermia.
'Phew!' he thought, relieved.
Cold ran through his entire body. An unprecedented blizzard battered a fragile body, full of marks, slightly healed by mysterious means, with no protection whatsoever; it was cutting, as if it could break his skin into tiny pieces.
Forly had nothing to do but walk clumsily in the blizzard while breathing in and out ice in the fleeting hope of not dying of starvation.
He walked.
He walked miles ahead. Sometimes he covered his mouth with his hands, blowing to try to warm them, but nothing worked.
He looked ahead and saw only an endless, flat desert of snow, covered by layers and layers of fog. The wind was loud and noisy, so much so that it seemed to speak words.
With each step he took, his feet ached, and his surroundings seemed irritating, but this time he was determined that he would survive without fainting. This would be the day he would hold on until the very last second.
'Everything bad is behind me... only me and nature. Nature that is... terrifying, but not evil. That's it! I'm not going to let that cow beat me!!'
His strength, though nonexistent, was pulled from the very depths of his mental cavern, from a very deep lake where he couldn't even breathe, but still, he went down and searched for it; and to his own surprise, he found the surface, and I don't just mean in his mind.
Because after more than an hour and a half of walking at a dead man's pace, he realized he was climbing an incline; with each step he took, he felt it tilting more. Survival was real. Everything seemed closer, more visceral from his point of view.
He was not dead yet; and he wanted everyone who had wronged him to see him burning, surviving hell; but more than that, he wished to find others with whom he could be sincere about it. He wanted to love.
Soon, even though it was overlaid by the dense veil of nature in the cold, he managed to perceive that he was climbing a hill. The air even seemed to improve.
A slightly crooked smile rose on his fractured face. His breathing was anxious, a continuous panting that seemed to synchronize with his heartbeats.
It felt as if he could hear them loud and clear. The heartbeats seemed louder.
With each step he took, they increased, irregularly. He placed his hand on his heart as he took another step.
In the same instant, he plummeted to the ground; he had climbed an entire hill in impossible conditions, only to nearly perish from a single misstep.
His face sank into the snow, much of it getting into his nose, ears, and mouth, making them burn like hot coals from the ice (what irony...).
He lifted his face, spitting out the white material. When he looked up, his eyes nearly bulged from his face. The thick haze that had previously covered his eyes no longer seemed to obstruct his vision as before...
But that wasn't what scared him... it was the people there.
...
Six people, three young men, two young women.
And one who seemed to be the same age was sitting and leaning against a jagged rock next to a small boulder.
Forly was stunned. He hadn't imagined finding people so soon here. And certainly not ones who were in the middle of a confrontation.
One of the women was speaking heatedly. Her voice was sweet, and inadvertently inconsistent with what she was saying.
"You knew! I know you knew! People like you who don't respect the brotherhood... I'm disgusted. You are poison! We spit out poison."
And she spat on the ground, although the saliva froze milliseconds after leaving her mouth.
One of the men, who was more slender and pale, though he gave off the air of a beast, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, spoke.
"You... a brother to me." His voice was sorrowful, mixed with a feeling of contempt and harshness, as if it were tearing his throat as he spoke.
"I believed in you, Walter. Why didn't you... We did nothing to you, you put yourself in this situation."
Walter appeared to have blackened and slightly frozen blood around his mouth. It was his turn to speak.
"My name isn't even Walter."
"Yeah! We know!" said a taller young man, with a muscular body, though his arms looked withered, as if they had been inflated until they could no more and then burst. 'A strange sight,' Forly thought.
The man continued, turning to the group as he gestured nervously. "Why did you believe someone who hid everything about himself? I think he should die." The others were startled.
Forly was startled by these words too; he didn't want to see anyone die, at least not today. He had seen too much blood in the last few days... or hours... or who knows... He had lost track of that too... and has his own obscure interest.
He got up in a clumsy impulse, and was going to play devil's advocate.
Forlose stumbled forward and almost fell, leaning on the rock where the young man was slouched.
"Heeey guys! This is my brother! Hehehe. If he did anything wrong, it's because he's schizophrenic."
"Huh! I don't know yo—" Forly covered his mouth before the guy could say any more nonsense, and continued through gritted teeth.
"Right, little bro! I was looking for you all this time... Woohoo! Found you..." A poorly acted smile appeared on Forly's face.
The slender man interrupted. "I don't know you and I doubt that yo—"
Well now, he was also interrupted... by the tall, dark-skinned girl with black hair. Forly raised an eyebrow; 'How can someone without vitamin D get this color?'
"Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations on finding your brother. Now let's go, everyone. YES!!!! Happy Ending!"
She left, pushing the reluctant slender man, and the others went with her, without looking back, into the mist.
Forly released his hand from the young man's mouth. A 'typhoon' of air came out of his mouth as he could finally breathe. Then, the guy who wasn't named Walter jumped to his feet and fell on top of Forly.
His hands wrapped around his neck.
"Who are you?! Who are you?! Speak! Spi-ll it out!"
Forly mumbled.
The guy who was ca— well, the guy let go of his hand and fell to the side.
"Thanks..." Forly now said, his speech broken by gasps for air. "My name is... Forlose."
Huh?! What the hell kind of name is that?
Forlose was now breathing well. 'Hot-headed little guy, huh?! I'm starting to regret this.'
"I mean... Better call me Forly."
"Like Saul?"
"What?"
"Better Call Saul."
"No... it's better to call me Forly, not Forlose."
"Better... anyway... are you stupid? Why did you tell me your name?"
"Who was the one in a tight spot here?"
"Okay Forly, and who are you?"
"I'm just a guy who's a hero for fun... what do you think? I want a place to sleep, and you'll get one because I saved you!"