There was a great chasm between Bo and those endless possibilities. It carved a deep, uncrossable trench.

His back wasn't getting any better.

It wasn't getting worse either, so he supposed it wasn't all bad. But as he lay there, paralysed in the dirt and caked in blood – all he could do was stare blankly up at the featureless sky.

He hadn't slept for long; waking up just after early morning bled into noon, when sun had reached its zenith. The sky had taken on a reddish tinge, which had some religious significance. It was usually around this time of day that the Karak offered prayers, and since Bo actually had a god to pray to, he closed his eyes.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, but one thing stood out clearly.

Help me…

Please.

The roaring pain in his ruined back had eased since the night, but that didn't mean it was gone entirely. He had been hoping his new blessed body would help him heal faster, but this was not the case. It had simply kept him alive. All so that he might suffer some more.

"Please, Qui," He croaked. His voice was a harsh rasp, and the words sounded like they were fighting to stay down, "I'll do anything… Just… just let me get better,"

…

Silence. The reddish sky did not respond, and if Qui had heard Bo's plea, he did not answer it.

So, Bo lay there for another two hours – in too much pain to writhe; in too little to die.

----------------------------------------

Gale woke with a start; His whole body jolting upright as memories of the previous night flooded in.

"Bo!" He gasped, turning to check that the boy hadn't died from his wounds.

Bo lay as still as stone, staring dully up into the sky. He didn't have his robe on – having taken it off the previous night. So, the blaring sun had darkened his skin considerably since the morning.

"I'm alive," Bo croaked. Though he didn't sound it.

"Are you sure?" Gale prodded. The old man clambered to his feet and made his way to Bo's side, where he bent down and poked at the prone boy. "Can you move?"

"No."

Gale took a sharp intake of breath and nodded grimly. "It's your back; I take it,"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry about the explosion." Gale grumbled, "I didn't know it would be so… big,"

"… It's fine. The Vesper would've killed me if you hadn't stepped in anyway,"

An awkward silence settled over them. Simply put, they didn't know where to go from there. Neither wanted to say it, but if Bo couldn't move permanently, he was as good as dead.

"Do you think it's getting better?" Gale asked, "Someone with Oasis' blessing would have noticeably improved by now,"

"Well, I don't have Oasis' blessing," Bo groaned from a sudden spike of pain, "But I think I'm improving. My back doesn't hurt anywhere near as badly as it did last night,"

Gale nodded, "Well, that's something,"

“…”

"Have you eaten?"

"I can't move,"

Gale nodded again, sighing deeply, "I'll get you a Horus shoot,"

The old man moved to his bag and sorted through various strange gizmos until he found a small leather pouch. It was about the size of his fist and packed to the brim with tiny green shoots that never seemed to go bad. Each shoot was about the size of a knuckle and had a grey, soft gelatinous inside.

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He grabbed one and brought it to Bo.

"Do I have to feed you?" He asked.

"… Yes," Bo hissed through clenched teeth.

All he could do was sit there as the old man brought the green shoot to his lips. It still tasted the same, sickly sweet and sticky. But a new sensation accompanied the satiation he usually felt after eating it. There was a sudden concentration of warmth in the pit of his stomach.

It felt like he had swallowed a lump of burning coal, and the heat spread throughout his body in pulsing waves. These waves seemed to focus around his back - burning through the agony like fire through tinder.

Bo's eyes widened as the pain lessened drastically. He felt like a starving man who had just been given a feast.

Better… he felt better!

All of a sudden, Bo sat upright. He could move, he could –

His back exploded in agony again. It felt as though stitches had been torn and scabs ripped apart.

With a strangled hiss, he lay back down - waiting as the warmth worked its way around his wounds again. He could feel himself healing at a blistering pace, but it was clearly far too early to move.

"What the hell was that?" Gale shouted in disbelief. One moment Bo had looked like a corpse, and the next, he was bolt upright.

"I think –" Bo squeezed the words out through the pain, "I think the shoot is healing me somehow,"

Gale paused, dumbfounded. "What?"

"I don't… I don't know if I can say for sure what's happening, but I think it has something to do with my god being different from yours." Bo wheezed, "Adults who worship Oasis can last for weeks at a time on a single shoot, but maybe Qui is different,"

"Ah…" Gale nodded in understanding, "So what do you think Qui's benefit is then? Healing?"

Bo nodded through clenched teeth, "Yeah… it must be,"

With a smile, Gale brought out the leather pouch again, "Then take some more; maybe you'll heal faster,"

He handed Bo another shoot, and the boy stuffed it in his mouth, sucking on its grey insides. Once again, the warmth spread throughout his body in a tidal wave that pushed back the pain and discomfort. He could almost feel his bones and muscles stitching back together as they mended.

Gale handed him another shoot and then another, emptying more than half his supply before Bo stopped asking for more. By this point, the heat in Bo's stomach had gone beyond uncomfortable and into dangerous. He no longer felt like he had swallowed a lump of burning coal but rather an entire bonfire.

Billowing waves of scorching heat ripped through his wounds, and they started to heal so fast that he could almost hear them closing.

While this was happening, the only thing Bo could do to fight off the agony – was grip Gale's arm. It felt like he was a tiny ship, and that arm was his anchor in a storm.

For his part, Gale awkwardly sat there, unsure of what to say or do. The old man had never been particularly socially adept, and this sort of situation was far above his pay grade.

"Is it working?" Gale asked after half an hour. Bo had grown so hot that his skin burned to the touch, and the old man wasn't sure if his current state was good or bad.

"It's-" Bo groaned, "It's working alright."

With a sigh, Gale relaxed and left Bo to heal as he busied himself packing his bag. Tens of the strange contraptions he had built over the years were strewn across the sand, and one by one – he picked them up and dusted them off.

For a moment, he had worried that Bo wouldn't get better. If the boy had stayed immobile, He would have had to carry him back to the tribe – meaning that he would have been forced to leave his life's work behind.

Not anymore. Gale couldn't help but smile as he picked up a rough metal cube and stuffed it back in his oversized bag.

All in all, the trip hadn't been too bad. "At least now I know how to gather Borealis in bulk," He glanced up at the ridge, where the white rock still stood… what had Bo said about that rock the previous night?

Something pricked at the back of his mind.

"Bo," He called out, "What did you say about the Tialis last night?"

Bo couldn't really remember much of that night. Most of his attention had been monopolised by the near-death experience. "I don't… I don't know,"

"The Tialis was fully saturated, right?" Gale asked nervously, "Did that mean something?"

Bo frowned, racking his brain, "Yeah… It only gets like that when…." He trailed off, searching for the answer.

"When a storm is coming,"

Gale froze as he picked up his belongings. The old man's hand shook slightly. "Do you know how long we might have before it hits?"

"No," Bo slowly realised how dire this situation was, "But we need to move now!"

"Can you walk? Can you stand?" Gale asked nervously, hurriedly stuffing everything back in his huge bag without cleaning off the sand.

With a grunt, Bo sat stiffly upright. There was no explosion of pain or agony this time, but it hadn't been graceful – or fast.

"I can…" Bo grunted as he hauled himself to his feet.

Bang! His knee jerked and gave way, sending him toppling to his hands and knees, gagging. With his legs trembling and his injured back spasming, Bo turned to look up at Gale, who was holding one of his huge bag's straps.

He tried to stand again but ended up splayed out on the sand, helplessly grovelling.

"I – I can't," His voice quavered as he spoke.

Gale looked down at his huge bag and back to Bo. They didn't have time to wait for him to heal. If the storm passed through the desert before they got back, it would make tracking their tribe almost impossible, especially if the storm made the Karak stray from their usual course. Only Ethron knew how to read the star charts properly – a duty which fell to the tribe leader and the tribe leader alone.

They needed to move. And they needed to move soon.

Gale looked down at his bag – his life's work.

Then over to Bo – a young boy helplessly crawling to his feet.

His hand shook as it held the strap. He knew what he needed to do. He knew what was right… but…

How could he give up everything he had worked for?

For a single agonising second, he stared at the bulging bag, gripping its strap.

And then he moved.