Atlas

Atlas is Dimitry's constant — a honey badger who has somehow followed him through every displacement, every century, every impossible arrival. In six hundred years of involuntary travel, Atlas is the only certainty.

He does not fear portals. He does not question destination. Where Dimitry stumbles into confusion, Atlas simply arrives and begins investigating. His nose finds fermented stores in medieval cellars, wild hives in ancient forests, forgotten preservation techniques in abandoned kitchens. He leads without ceremony.

The name fits in ways Dimitry did not intend when he first spoke it. Atlas carries no world on his back — but he carries forward regardless. He maps nothing, yet somehow knows every route. He is unburdened by time, unimpressed by eras, and entirely uninterested in explanation.

Some companions follow because they choose to. Atlas simply is present — present in 2026, present in whatever bewildering century comes next...or before. Dimitry has stopped asking how, and the honey badger has never offered answers.

Where Atlas walks, something fermented is always nearby. Whether that is instinct, coincidence, or something older, Dimitry no longer speculates.