“There! There! There!” Lenah shouted. She waved in a slightly girlish manner as her brother rushed to the stage and grabbed her by the wrist. Kylara watched as Karryne intensely whispered something to her, which she seemed to ignore. Whatever sympathy Kylara had thought she had seen from Karryne a minute ago seemed to have disappeared, perhaps burnt away by the embarrassment.

Get her off the stage, Kylara thought. The crowd was getting anxious. Force her if you must.

Kylara looked around. Some of the crowd was staring at her, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. They hadn’t expected her to volunteer to take care of Lenah. Kylara hadn’t expected herself to volunteer. She had just gone along with what Joontah had done. And yes, it was a bit odd for him to volunteer to essentially babysit the Wanderer–but she was grateful for it. After all, he had probably done it for Yalmay’s sake.

Although I guess I volunteered too.

Why had she done that? She barely knew Lenah and her brother–Karryne–was nice but they weren’t especially close.

She looked back at Lenah, whose attention was now directed at Wawiriya, her lips stretching into a broad, eerie smile–the kind of unhinged grin only Wanderers could do properly because of their extra teeth. Her expression was unsettlingly static, her features moving far less than a human’s would. It was uncanny.

Karryne again hissed something at his sister, which Lenah continued to ignore. It took grabbing her arm for Lenah to finally notice him, and even then she seemed dazed. She giggled and waved as Karryne dragged her off the stage.

Finally, Kylara thought.

“Let’s go,” Joontah said.

He started towards the crowd before Kylara grabbed his shoulder and pointed to one side. “That way,” she said and pushed herself slightly in front of Joontah. He was much taller than her, but Kylara thought she had better odds at parting a crowd quicker. The benefits of being the notorious warder…

She was right too. All it took were a few cursory excuse me’s and pardon me’s and people in the crowd shoved others out of the way for her. It was nice, in a way. It made her feel important. People were pushing themselves over to get out of the way for her.

“Did you think this through?” Kylara hissed, looking back at Joontah. “Where are we taking her?”

Joontah shrugged. “We can ask Karryne,” he said. “He’s dealt with her for ten years. He knows what to do.”

Kylara nodded. She felt bad. Other than the occasional help from Joontah’s family–mostly Wawiriya, Kylara assumed–Karryne had to deal with his sister alone. It couldn’t have been easy on him. Especially because Karryne himself was a Wanderer–he had not been unaffected by the Snap. It was the injured helping the injured.

They reached the stage in a short time and Kylara waved to indicate where they were. Karryne pulled his sister by the wrist towards them in a quick movement that almost destabilised Lenah, who was for some reason standing on one foot. She hoped while her brother pulled her by the wrist forward.

Two metres from the top step of the stage, Lenah suddenly pulled back, hopped onto the other foot–she had remarkable balance considering how hard her brother was pulling her–and twirled on her ankle, breaking away from her brother and showing off the tips of her shoes.

“Stop that,” Karryne hissed. Lenah stopped. She looked at him wide-eyed and said nothing.

“Why in the world would you bring attention to us like that?” Karryne hissed as he bent down and grabbed his sister’s ankle, putting it firmly on the ground so that Lenah was finally on two feet. “You know what people will think.”

Lenah said nothing. Kylara wondered if she was capable of saying anything. If Lenah had gone into the Desert, nothing was certain. She might not be capable of speaking ever again.

Kylara cleared her throat and Karryne turned towards her.

“Where should we take her?” she asked.

Karryne craned his neck as if he were looking for someone in the crowd but then frowned. “Bring her to ours,” he said after a moment. He reached into a pocket and handed Joontah a set of keys. “She’ll stay there without too much trouble.”

“Maybe you should come with us,” Joontah suggested. “She might need you.”

Karryne looked at his sister apprehensively. “I think me being there will make her worse.” He grimaced. “It usually does. And anyway, I would like to stay here and pay my respects. I liked Ulinda. I liked her a lot.”

He uses her name, Kylara noted. But he uses it with respect. She also noted that the key ring he had given Joontah had at least a dozen keys on it. That was, Kylara guessed, about a dozen more than a typical resident of Kookaburra Creek owned. She hoped Joontah remembered which one belonged to the house.

Karryne looked at Lenah, placing his hands on her cheeks. “I’ll meet you at the house,” he said. “Wait there for me there, okay?” Lenah let out a huff of breath and then, very slowly, nodded.

“Right,” Joontah said, putting his hand between Lenah’s shoulder blades and gently pushing her ahead. “Let’s go.” There was a long pause and then dutifully, she started walking.

Joontah guided Lenah away from the crowd and towards Footcross Field. Lenah walked straight ahead with a kind of false seriousness, the kind a child had when they pretended to be a grown-up. Kylara wondered if Lenah even understood what she had done. Did she understand it was a funeral, or had she simply not cared? Did she understand what death was? Even animals understood death, but a Wanderer’s madness wasn’t the same as an animal’s. It wasn’t stupidity, it was… something else. Kylara did not know what.

As they made their way to the clearing, Kylara could hear the funeral service start up again. A wave of regret washed over her. Perhaps she should have stayed. In a way, it was easier to volunteer to leave. Ulinda’s family did not want her there. Dhaligir still wouldn’t meet her eyes. But Kylara’s grandad had taught her that funerals were for the living, not the dead. And honestly, who needed closure more than Kylara? Even Ulinda’s family had been ready to abandon her and go to Bormbora. They had probably already said their goodbyes.

Stop with the bitter thoughts, Kylara.

“Yal!” Joontah said as his girlfriend sprinted into the clearing. He hesitated a second and then took his hand off Lenah as if he were afraid she was going to bolt without his support. Kylara doubted that she would. Lenah seemed a completely different person than just a few minutes ago. Compliant.

“Hey,” Yalmay said, stopping a few metres in front of Joontah and giving a shy wave. “Miss me?”

Joontah grinned. Kylara rolled her eyes. It was as if the last time he had seen her was weeks ago and not minutes. Then he pulled her into a hug. “Of course,” he said. “Course I missed you.” He kissed her on the cheek.

Yalmay glanced over Joontah’s shoulder to Lenah. “Is she… alright?” she asked.

“I’m having a very good day,” Lenah proclaimed. Joontah almost jumped at the reply and withdrew from his embrace with Yalmay.

So she can talk normally now, Kylara thought. Interesting.

“That’s… nice?” Yalmay said. “I mean, it was a funeral and those are kinda by definition bad days but I guess it could be good in a way had it been different–” Yalmay eyed Lenah up and down, “…for you.” She looked at Kylara and slumped. “Sorry, that was horrible. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

I’m sure Lenah has been told worse, Kylara thought. She wondered what kind of questions the Council would ask her later. Malyun would not be so diplomatic.

That gave her an idea. If Kylara could ask them now–prepare her, maybe that would be best. For all she knew, Lenah might not even remember what happened later. Memories for Wanderers seemed to come and go away like the tides did in some countries.

Okay then, what to ask? I guess let’s start with a simple one?

“Lenah,” Kylara asked softly, “do you know what happened before–when you interrupted the funeral? What were you trying to say?”

Lenah gave no response.

“Did you go into the Desert?” she tried again.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I don’t think she understands,” Joontah contributed. “Maybe now isn’t the time.”

Yalmay was studying her. “No,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I think she does. Understand, that is.” Lenah’s eyes darted to meet Yalmay’s. A sharp expression–almost like scorn–came over her face but disappeared almost as quickly.

She doesn’t like Yalmay knowing she can understand, Kylara thought. Or maybe she doesn’t like Joontah assuming she is stupid. It was hard to tell which it was.

Kylara sighed and then walked over to a nearby bench. “Sit down, Lenah,” she ordered.

Lenah eyed her curiously for a second and inched closer. One step, two. Tentative. Then three, four–slightly more confident. Five, six and she sprinted, dashing towards the bench fast enough that Kylara nearly threw her hands in front of her. Lenah pivoted right at the last moment and collided with the bench with a heavy thud, rocking the seat. Kylara had to lean forward to stop the bench from tipping over with the momentum. Then Lenah straightened her back and eyed Kylara with a comically wide stare.

Kylara stared back. Lenah had to make things difficult, didn’t she? She couldn’t remember what she had been about to ask. Too many distractions. Joontah and Yalmay glanced at each other. What kind of questions would Lenah respond well to? Joontah might have ideas. He knew Lenah better than she did. But Joontah just shrugged.

“What are we waiting for?” Lenah asked suddenly. “Did you want me to test the bench? Is that what we are doing? Because I can–” she stood up, ready to jump again.

“No!” Kylara almost shouted at her. Lenah froze and then sat down. She perched herself at the end near the armrest, close enough to the end that it would wobble if she moved. Lenah stayed deadly still.

“Why did you interrupt the funeral?” Kylara asked. It was a slightly simpler version of the question she had asked before.

“I like talking to my friends,” Lenah huffed. The huff was a bit adorable, Kylara thought. It reminded her of Jack. “I am not sure why I wanted to talk to them,” Lenah continued, “because they never seem very happy to see me. But I would like to talk to them more if I could because I like talking to friends. But I will ask first. Maybe. I will pray on it.”

“Sorry,” Kylara said. “You will pray on it?”

“I will pray on it.”

Kylara did not know Lenah was religious. In fact, it was the first time she had heard of any Wanderer being religious. She glanced at Joontah, who shrugged. He wasn’t a Wanderer himself, but sometimes being related to one gave him some insight.

“Who will you pray to?” Kylara asked.

“Those you wished you prayed to.”

Gods, this was going to get nowhere, wasn’t it?

“Are you part of the church or one of the old religions?”

“I pray to my god,” Lenah said. There was a glitter in her eyes. “He is great.” She blinked. “Should I have told you?”

“Okay,” Kylara said. That response probably meant the church. “Er, great. Great that he is great, I mean.”

She had messed up. She didn’t know how to talk to someone who genuinely believed–and more importantly–acted based on religion. She had no idea how to relate to her or even know how deep her faith went. A Wanderer who went to church. What motivated her? What made her tick?

Kylara had a feeling she was going to get nowhere with this kind of questioning. She had grown up praying to the old gods, not the church, but she was not particularly religious. Part of it was because growing up, her father practised religions like he chose clothes–entirely based on what he thought would be the most appealing to his current partner, and there were a lot.

“He will make the doorway back to the real world and we will walk through,” Lenah continued.

“That’s not church doctrine,” Yalmay said. “That’s not even doctrine from the Rebirth preachers.”

Lenah stared at her. “I’m not bound to your understanding of religion. Only mine.”

And there it was, Kylara thought. That unsettling clarity even the maddest of the Wanderers sometimes have.

Kylara leaned a bit closer, “Hey Lenah,” she whispered as if it were a rather juicy secret, “what were you trying to tell us before, at the funeral?”

Lenah froze. “I– I– I wanted to help. But not always. I thought. I thought that we can’t hurt others? But then there are some moments, some places you wait for and I had to say. Places to strive the darkness.” She glanced over Kylara’s shoulder and seemed to gain confidence. “Places your whole life could change. My life changed when the shape of the world changed. You know that. Maybe.”

“Alright,” Joontah said. “She definitely went into the Desert, right?” He pointed at her. “Because that’s nonsense. It doesn’t make any sense except to be creepy.”

Personally, Kylara did not find it all that creepy. Not compared to how Lenah had been acting during her interview, anyway. Kylara shivered. Lenah had told her that the bugs wanted them all dead.

“Even for a Wanderer?” Yalmay asked. “They usually don’t make much sense.”

“No,” Kylara said. She stood up. “I think Joontah’s right. That isn’t Wanderer madness. I think we should take her back home. I don’t know what’s come over her, but Wawiriya or one of the other elders should deal with it. Not us.”

Lenah frowned and then looked at Kylara sideways. “Do you think she will come back?” she asked.

“Who?” Joontah asked.

“Ulinda. Sometimes ghosts visit relatives and choke them in their sleep, did you know?”

Joontah stared. Kylara rubbed her eye. Lenah bobbed her head up and down with enthusiasm.

“Well,” Yalmay muttered. “She seems fun.”

“We should watch Ulinda’s brother,” Lenah continued. “He might not be okay.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear right now,” Yalmay said. “Ghosts killing people in their sleep.”

Kylara absentmindedly nodded and then furiously shook her head. Fucking nodding. It could be counted as a lie.

“Lenah, does this have something to do with how Dhaligir’s sister died?” Joontah asked.

Oh, Kylara thought, I hadn’t thought of that. Good point Joontah.

“Oh no,” Lenah giggled, “I wouldn’t know. I refuse to be any more than who she was.” She paused. “No wait a minute!” she shouted. “I blame you!”

“Er,” Joontah said. “Me?” Despite Lenah’s words, she wasn’t pointing, or even looking at anyone. Just swaying widely on the bench, like a child who ate too much honey.

“I think she meant me,” Yalmay said.

“She means nothing,” Kylara declared. “Now, I don’t know anything but I’m thinking Karryne might have some answers. Let’s take her home. C’mon, Lenah,” she said, helping her off the bench.

After several minutes of silent walking, Yalmay spoke up. “Do you think she really went into the Desert?”

“I don’t know,” Joontah said. “I think we should assume she has.”

Kylara looked at him. “What do you know about the people who have gone into the Desert?” Yalmay had been mostly raised in Saltsbury and had not grown up with the stories. Joontah, however, had been raised in the Biraga household. And Wawiriya knew everything. She had been in town for hundreds of years.

“Not much,” Joontah said. “I never really asked about it much growing up.”

“Really?” Yalmay said. “Why not?”

The question seemed to unnerve Joontah. “I guess I didn’t want to know,” he said. “Do you know how the Wanderers got their name?” he asked after a moment. He was directing the question at Kylara specifically, she knew. Yalmay of course knew the word’s etymology. She seemed to know every word’s etymology.

“I don’t,” Kylara said.

“It’s because before the Snap, Wanderers used to walk between countries. They walked through the Deserts, wandering where no one else could,” he sounded almost wistful. “My mother was a Wanderer. She had me in a Desert before taking me to a safe country. So I guess I didn’t want to know more. I always knew I was different, but I think I was afraid of how different. Afraid that knowing too much might change how I saw my family, my life,” he shrugged, “…myself.”

Kylara narrowed her eyes. “Do you mean your real–sorry, your birth mother?” Joontah and Janeyca were adopted. She had always assumed they didn’t know who their real mother was. And Julya certainly wasn’t a Wanderer.

“Yes,” Joontah said, “my birth mother.”

“Is she still around?”

“No,” Joontah said. Kylara winced at the answer. “My birth mother died in the Snap. But she knew Wawiriya from before and she knew my mother–my real mother, Julya–was having trouble having children. It’s how I was adopted.”

Yalmay nodded, not at all surprised. Joontah must have told her story before.

“I didn’t know,” Kylara said.

It was rare for Wanderers to have human children but it wasn’t unheard of. Wawiriya herself had a human child in Julya. There was a bit of a stigma around it–a disbelief that the child was truly human–but as far as Kylara knew those were simply rumours. Nothing Wanderer remained in Julya. She had never noticed anything Wanderer in Joontah either. And Janeyca was a bit weird, but nothing at all like a Wanderer.

“Do you know what kind of Desert it was?” she asked.

“The one I was born in? No.” Joontah said, shaking his head. “I don’t think Wawiriya knows either.”

But you suspect, Kylara thought with a start.

His eye contact was giving him away. When Yalmay lied, she avoided eye contact, picking a point on the ground a bit to her right and holding it. Most people did. But Joontah had always had an oddness to him, an evasiveness like he had something to hide. He rarely looked as comfortable as he did right now. It meant he was lying. Kylara wondered why.

Lenah was looking at Joontah curiously. “It wasn’t the Desert,” she said.

“It wasn’t our Desert,” Yalmay explained to her. “Joontah was born far away, not near Kookaburra Creek.”

“No,” Lenah said, still staring at him. She pointed at him. Joontah shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Fake Desert,” she said, as though it was an accusation.

“Fake Desert?” Yalmay asked.

“Fake Desert!” Lenah said.

“What’s a fake Desert?”

“It’s nothing,” Joontah said.

“No,” Kylara said. “Lenah has a point. It might not have been a True Desert you were born in. Not that it matters.”

Yalmay frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s the difference between a true Desert and a fake Desert?”

“Well,” Kylara said. “Every culture everywhere has places that are no-go areas. Places that the locals avoid. Here, we call them Deserts. But other places divide them into two. There are lands no one goes to because it’s dangerous, but if you make it out, you are fine. That kind of Desert is just another country but with deadlier magic. Don’t use the magic and have no one use it against you and you are fine. I’ve been through a few. Sometimes the warblers will take you if they can make it safe enough.”

Kylara remembered cutting through one country where the base magic was acid. The local magic made everything that touched the ground start dissolving. The warbler had put her in stone shoes and told her to walk quickly. That had been a Desert, technically. Just not a true one.

“The other kind of Deserts are concepts,” Kylara said. “Their magic isn’t something like butterflies or salt or vines or acid or anything physical. Their magic is based on concepts. The abstract. Things like time, or heat, or sadness. That’s what our Desert is. The very place itself is dangerous. Somehow.”

“Oh,” Yalmay said, sounding surprised. “I know the words but never knew the difference. Fake Deserts–in Warrung, they sometimes call them the Untamed. There is the connotation that they can be tamed. Somehow. But true Deserts have a dozen names. The Never Never, the Timeless Lands, the Bleak, the Out-of-Near, the Dead Heart, the Otherworld, the Fell, the Howling.” She paused. “Gods’ Country.”

Kylara nodded. She hadn’t heard most of those names before. “The warblers mostly called them Bad Lands,” she said, “but True Deserts were always Mad Lands.”

A hush fell over the bush. A sensation on her fingertips, like skin held too long above a fire. Kylara had felt it before–hundreds of times even–but never here. Never in Kookaburra Creek. Someone was translating.

She swung around to see it. Ten metres north and about five metres up there was a distortion in the air, like oil being heated over water.

A man fell out of the sky.