A/N: Hello, fellow readers. I'm here with this small extension to the Thanza chapter. Although it seems pretty short in some cases, a story such as this can still provide entertainment. That said, sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Killer Instinct or Carrie. They belong to their respective owners.

The Thanza valley kept its beauty for many years, attracting tourists. Its snow-capped mountains remained tall, acting like walls against the elements. The valley's small village continued its daily activities in peace. However, for Carrie and Jago, danger awaited them at every turn.

Although daylight was present, they remained in the shadows. Villagers found it strange, but the reason the apparent. Having discovered the Cult of Gargos, they planned to return to the Tiger Shrine. With the cultists guarding the paths and the building, they had only one choice.

In time, they found a yak-drawn cart belonging to a traveling merchant. The man was visiting a food stall to replenish supplies. The yak chewed its cud, swiping its horselike tail against its shaggy coat.

"We need to time this right. Otherwise, we'll be stuck here, with those cultists," Jago said.

"Couldn't we ask the villagers for help?" Carrie whispered. "Or that merchant? I'm sure he won't mind."

Jago shook his head. "We can't depend on the villagers. One could expose us if they bent under pressure from the cultists." He kept thinking about the poor stall owner who had been killed. "As for the merchant, he may tell us off even if we ask him for help. Carrie, stay put while I check the cart."

"What if there isn't enough room?"

"We'll figure something out. One thing is certain: we must leave this village."

"I'm scared."

"So am I."

After checking for any cultists, Jago crept towards the cart.

Carrie remained in her hiding place, her heart pounding inside her chest. She folded her hands, muttering a prayer.

As Jago approached the cart, he glanced at the merchant and the market owner. The men are still talking. Good. Before he lifted the tarp, the yak grunted, freezing him. However, the sturdy animal shook its head and minded its business. With a quiet sigh, he pulled a tarp back. Thank Buddha. There's enough space.

As he lowered himself, Jago turned back to find Carrie praying. He threw a few pebbles at her, stopping her prayer. As she did, Jago motioned for her to come. She crept towards him, keeping her body down.

"Okay, you get inside the cart first. I'll follow you."

Carrie nodded and slipped through the tarp with Jago watching for danger. After passing the alms bowl to her, the monk crawled into the cart. Both rested on their stomachs with the tarp concealing them. Several jars with various products were beside their feet.

Carrie tried to find a comfortable position. "What now?"

"Now, we wait," Jago said. "I hope the merchant doesn't find us, let alone scold us. Let me talk to him if he does."

Thirty minutes had passed when the merchant finished his business. Inside the cart, Jago perked up, sensing a change in their surroundings. A hand slipped through the tarp, dropping two bags of grain. His body tensed at first but then faded.

"Jago, what was that?" Carrie was resting her eyes when the noise woke her.

The monk slid the bags of grain into a corner. "The merchant is getting ready to leave."

"Well, well," a voice called. "What's a traveling merchant doing in this village?"

In silence, Carrie and Jago eyed the shadowy figures around the cart. The merchant spoke in his native tongue.

"He wants to know what business we have with him," another person said.

"Tell him we're interested in his products," the first voice said. "We'll need some for our ritual tonight."

While listening, Jago narrowed his eyes. Sensing the negative auras, he figured the Cult of Gargos was still searching. What ritual do the cultists speak? From the corner of his eye, the tarp lifted from the far end. Quick, silent breaths escaped him while his stomach tightened.

As Carrie glanced toward the monk's line of sight, she almost screamed. Jago covered her mouth with his hand, motioning her to stay quiet. Breathing through her nose, Carrie prayed to God for protection. The tarp pulled back further, stopping near their feet. They kept staring, preparing themselves for the unexpected.

Each pair of hands picked up several jars before the tarp blocked the light.

Relaxed, Jago removed his hand from Carrie's mouth. The latter glanced up, thanking God. The shadowy forms of the cultists walked away when they stopped.

"Have you seen a girl and a monk by any chance?" the cultist asked. Another member translated the words into Nepali.

With furrowed brows, the traveling merchant shook his head and spoke.

"He says no," the translator said. "He also wants to know why."

"Tell him our reasons are our own."

After the translator repeated the words in Nepali, they left.

"Jago, what ritual are they planning?" Carrie inquired.

"Something awful, I'm sure."

Outside, the yak grunted as wheels crunched the ground.

Startled, Carrie glanced around as if searching for an exit. "What's happening?"

Jago lifted the tarp by a crack. "Don't worry. We're moving."

Each tension in her body was released as she sighed. "Where is the merchant heading?"

"Far from here."

Unaware of the stowaways, the merchant left the village. He patted his stick against the yak's side, riding the creature. A riverbed trail led through the valley. Clouds drifted across the sky, some rolling over the mountains. In the foothills, forests and plains blended like canvas in a painting.

At the sun's zenith, the merchant stopped to allow his yak to quench its thirst. The man approached the cart, using the opportunity to check his supplies. He screamed and stepped back when he lifted the tarp, almost tripping on himself.

As the merchant shouted in Nepali, Carrie and Jago arose from hiding. The monk responded to the man as he climbed off the cart. Carrie remained on the wagon as she studied her surroundings. Rocks littered the land, which was devoid of trees. Her tongue licked the roof of her mouth as though desperate for moisture. She hopped off and approached the river, kneeling.

While quenching her thirst, the yak's snout tapped Carrie, startling her. The animal grunted as it stared with interest. Not knowing animals, she petted the creature's muzzle. While studying the yak, she found a beaded necklace and a blanket on its back.

"Carrie?" Jago called as he and the merchant approached. The latter had his arms folded, with his lips curved downward. "I told the merchant of our situation. He has agreed to help us but expects us to leave by nightfall. He doesn't want those cultists to come after him, for our sakes."

After a quick break, Carrie and Jago hopped inside the cart. The merchant climbed on his yak and continued his trek.

Concealed under the tarp, Carrie and Jago remained quiet. The monk sometimes peeked outside, checking to ensure no one was following them.

Over time, exhaustion had set in on Jago. He checked on Carrie, who had since fallen asleep. He still needed to consult her about her powers, but how could he start? A small nap could clear my thoughts. He rested his head on his arms while his eyelids grew heavy. After a while, he fell asleep.

Darkness surrounded the monk when an acrid odor hit his nostrils. Coughing, he wanted to move away from the source, but he couldn't. Once he opened his eyes, he froze. Instead of the cart, Jago was inside a burning building with people screaming. Around him were scattered tables and chairs mixed with several dead bodies.

A figure with widened red eyes stood on a platform as if in a trance. The figure lifted three electrical wires without touching them.

Trembling, Jago stepped back until something wet touched his feet. As he looked down, his eyes widened at the damp floor. He leaped on a nearby table before the figure dropped the wires. Anyone who couldn't escape screamed, their skin burned and their eyes bulged.

Horror-struck, Jago shifted towards the silhouette. "Who are you?"

At first, the figure didn't answer, retaining its glassy stare. It walked off the stage with an eerie calmness and headed for the exit.

"Who are you?" Jago asked in a louder voice.

The figure stopped, still silent, as it turned towards him. Though the fire obscured its features, its stare was enough to stun Jago. In a demonic feminine voice, the figure spoke. "I… am… Death!"

Jago jolted awake, beads of sweat pooling around his face. Quick, heavy breaths escaped him while he examined his surroundings. I'm back inside the cart. While trying to compose himself, something caught his attention. Darkness surrounded the tarp with scant light. Night already? How long was I asleep?

A soft moan reached his ears as he shifted towards a sleeping Carrie. Her body trembled with sweat seeping from her pores.

Carrie, you had that nightmare, and I was there. Jago paused, his brows scrunched. Was it a dream or a memory? The monk shook his head at the notion and nudged her. "Carrie? Wake up, Carrie. Wake up."

The girl awoke with a gasp and widened eyes.

"Are you okay? You must've been having a nightmare," themonk said.

Carrie raked her fingers through her hair. "Jago, where are we? How long was I out?"

"Both of us were knocked out during the journey. I'll find out where we are."

Jago peeked through the tarp before he pushed it back for a better view. Over the sky, a dark band contained an immense number of stars. The valley remained quiet, apart from the chirping crickets and the yak's grunt. The traveling merchant was asleep in a sleeping bag beside a campfire.

As Carrie arose, she glanced toward the night sky. "Oh, wow!" She kept her voice to a whisper. "I've never seen stars like this!"

Jago followed the teenager's line of sight and smiled underneath his mask. "Come. We should leave."

Carrie climbed off the cart first. After grabbing the alms bowl, Jago did the same. While sneaking away, the yak's snort startled them. However, the creature lay on the ground, asleep. Carrie gave the yak a few strokes on its snout before she and Jago departed.

With the North Star as a guide, they continued the trail leading to a forest. Leaves and sticks crunched beneath their feet. A gentle breeze swayed the branches as if the trees were waving hello.

Though not showing any fear, Jago's senses were on high alert. Often, he would stop whenever a strange noise reached his ears. However, he didn't perceive most of them as threats.

After several hours, they arrived at a glade. Before they could cross, Jago stopped and gestured for Carrie to do the same. His ears picked up a soft growl coming from the woods.

Carrie surveyed her surroundings. "What's wrong?"

A soft rumble settled in the monk's throat. "Not sure. Hold onto the bowl and stay close to me." He clenched one hand into a fist; the other grabbed the sword handle. As he scanned the woods, a pair of amber eyes caught his attention. He drew out his sword and pointed towards them. "Show yourself!"

As if complying, the amber-eyed entity emerged from the woods. Horse-sized, the creature had a lion's appearance. Under the pale moonlight, white fur. Its greenish-blue mane flowed around the neck and tail. Its paws didn't appear to touch the ground.

Carrie blinked, almost speechless. "Is that… a lion? I have never seen one before, let alone with those colors. I also didn't know they thrived in Tibet."

Jago kept his sword close to him. "That's the problem: they don't."

He remembered hearing stories about this creature as a child. Snow Lions were symbols of strength and bravery in ancient times. In paintings and sculptures, these creatures defend Tibetan culture. Under normal conditions, he and Carrie would consider themselves blessed. However, his demeanor changed when he saw bite marks on the lion's left shoulder.

A/N: The shapeshifter has arrived, but what is its intention for our duo? Time to rest my brain so, I'll see you later.