A bar of steel—it is only Smoke at the heart of it, smoke and the blood of a man. A runner of fire ran in it, ran out, ran somewhere else, And left—smoke and the blood of a man And the finished steel, chilled and blue. -Carl Sandburg The first thing you're aware of, as the worms of consciousness gnaw their way forward, is the heat. It swirls around you, immense and unrelenting; you feel like you're going to drown in it. There's something rough and knotted underneath you, pressing little rivets into your skin. After a moment you register that you must be lying down. You try to sit up, but the sharp throbbing of your head forces you right back down. It takes ages for the world to come into focus, and as you sit, alone and lost behind the failure of your own senses, the sharp pinpricks of panic begin to work their way into your stomach. When your vision finally clears, you realize something: you have no idea where you are. But there is one thing you can figure out on your own: you're in a forest, and the forest in question is very much on fire. There's a small brown square next to your foot. In the distance, a thick red-and-black haze has settled over everything. With each breath, you take in a little bit more smoke. The smell of it makes you want to vomit. You don't know how you got here, or what's going on. In fact, you can't remember anything. So what will you do?