Naruto had not eaten in three days, and he still meant to rule the frozen tundra. He crouched behind a snowbank with his spear ready. The storm had chased every mammoth and reindeer far south. His stomach cramped. His hands shook too hard to grip the shaft. No tribe would follow a starving boy. He had to eat first, then win them. He followed old tracks until they vanished under fresh snow. The wind cut through his furs. Then he saw a strange shape half-buried in a drift. It was not stone. It was not ice. He dug with numb fingers and pulled it free. A sleek silver machine sat before him. Two doors curved up from its sides like wings. It hovered a hand's width above the snow. Naruto had never seen metal so smooth. He touched a door and it opened by itself. Warm air rolled out. Inside, dim lights glowed on a panel. He climbed in to escape the wind. On the seat lay a round relic covered in spinning rings and clockwork. A small storm of light turned at its center. When his hand brushed it, the rings clicked and glowed. The machine hummed louder. The panel flashed numbers he could not read. The world outside blurred. Snow streaked past the windows. Then everything stopped. Naruto stepped out onto frozen ground under a gray sky. The storm was gone. But so was the herd he had hoped to find. Across the ice, a dark shape drifted toward him. It had no legs. It floated like smoke with soft, curling edges. Cold poured off it. Behind the shadow, more shapes rose from the snow. They walked, but wrong. Their faces were gray and torn. Their mouths hung open. They shambled forward in a loose pack, dragging stiff limbs. Naruto had never seen dead men move. He backed toward the machine. His hand searched for the door. The drifting shadow slid closer, and the cold froze his breath in his throat. He gripped his spear again, though hunger still weakened his arm. One of the walking corpses lunged. Naruto swung. His spear struck its shoulder and knocked it down. It did not bleed. It did not stop. It rose and came again. The others closed the gap. He could not fight this many and win. He threw himself back into the silver machine. The door sealed shut. Fists pounded the glass. Gray faces pressed close on every side. Naruto grabbed the glowing relic and squeezed it hard. "Take me back," he begged. "Anywhere else." The rings spun. The light flared. The machine lifted and shot forward. The corpses fell away behind him. When the blur cleared, he stood on snow again, alone, still starving. He had escaped death. But he had no idea when he was, or how to steer this thing home to the tribes he meant to rule.