The long line of Karak twisted and bent as they picked up speed, fraying like an old rope. The children and elderly struggled to keep up with the hunters led by Ethron at the front of the group. Not that they complained about the pace that had been set. Everyone wished they could go even faster.

The wind was nipping at their heels, and the sooner they made it to the cliff – the better.

Bo had retrieved his sledge from Fran and marvelled at his improved physical ability. He no longer struggled to keep up with everyone and could walk beside Fran without panting for breath or secretly wishing they would slow down. Or audibly wishing they would slow down, which he wasn't opposed to doing either.

It was… It was vindicating.

He couldn't help but smirk at Leo and Tor, who hadn't gotten their tattoos yet. They were walking furiously, with their heads down and jaws set tightly. It was taking everything they had just to keep up, and Bo… well, Bo was fine.

After catching up with Fran, he had pulled a robe from his supplies and switched his tattered rags for something that could actually classify as clothing. At first, he had considered not wearing a robe at all – in the same fashion as the older Karaks. But for whatever reason, Bo didn't feel comfortable like that.

Besides, he was pretty sure his skin was nowhere near as tough as theirs – so there was still a serious chance of him getting sunburnt.

As they walked, Fran told him – in gruelling detail – about the mechanics behind Tialis. He was actually rather interested and initially tried to pay attention… initially.

But every time the wind picked up – a voice drifted across it, yanking his tired thoughts away.

Bo was sure he was the only one who could hear it since nobody else had commented on the very conspicuous voice yet – leaving him bewildered. As far as he knew, sounds weren't choosy about who could hear them. It was sort of a universal thing.

"Help… Me,"

He turned to check, and sure enough, not a soul had reacted when the voice had spoke. Only he could hear it – he just didn't understand why yet. Perhaps he really was just exhausted. He couldn't think of any other reason he might be hearing mystical voices.

After walking at a brutal pace for forty-five minutes, a large cliff came into view. It loomed over the golden sand – black and jagged.

Bo observed the cliff curiously. Although it appeared to have formed naturally, he had no idea how such a thing was possible. With the cliff standing almost a hundred metres tall and getting wider as it went up, it seemed terribly precarious. As though if he leaned on it, it might topple.

"Shelter!" Bo heard a little girl cheer.

She was standing on a sledge and fist-pumping excitedly. He recognised her as the girl who tried to cheer him on and suddenly regretted not doing anything to calm her down during their rather hectic journey. It felt like just yesterday he was the one riding a sledge towards shelter, and he knew just how frightening the experience was. Children were so helpless in the face of the desert's brutal whims that it was almost comical.

"Go faster, daddy!" She pretended to whip her sullen father – who was already going as fast as he could manage.

"I'm trying! Will you stop jumping about? If you fall off, your mother will kill me!"

Bo smiled and turned to Fran, "Do you remember doing that sort of thing for me?"

The old woman mumbled something under her breath, but the howling winds whipped the words away.

"What was that?"

"I said! You never sat down because you're an annoying little –" The roaring storm censored the rest – but Bo got the gist.

"That's because you move slower than the seasons change, you old-" Once again, the wind stole the rest of the sentence away – but Fran got the gist.

They looked at each other for a tense moment before giggling like little kids. The old woman pinched Bo's ear as melodramatic retribution, and they continued walking.

It wasn't long before they arrived in the shadow of the cliff – where the howling winds died down to a distant roar. With sand no longer whipping past at high speeds, they could take off the thin strips of cloth covering their eyes and set up camp.

But before that, Ethron held up his fist and motioned for everyone to halt at the edge of the shadow. He nodded at the hunters by his side, and they moved off in groups – scouring the ground with practised efficiency.

"Looks like we'll be having Sarpa for dinner tonight," Fran mused, thinking out loud as the hunters methodically worked their way towards the base of the cliff.

"Ugh, Sarpa's too tough," Bo moaned.

"I don't remember hearing you complain when you went for seconds last time,"

"... It would be rude not to finish what was cooked. I didn't want to hurt your feelings is all," Bo said innocently, holding his hands up.

"You can cook it overnight," Gale added. "That makes it more palatable,"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Bo turned around, somewhat shocked that the old man was still there. He stood behind them, pack-less and looking rather lost. If Bo's memory was correct, Gale used to never let anyone within ten metres of him – but he now stood barely three feet away.

Although their trip together had undoubtedly been memorable – Bo doubted that the old man would get over some lifelong superstition in just a few days, which made him wonder why Gale had been keeping his distance to begin with.

"Hey," Bo glanced at Gale as the hunters moved into the final quadrant they needed to cover. By this point, they all looked severe – with furrowed brows and tight grips on their spears.

"I was wondering why you used to keep your distance from people?"

"Bo!" Fran scolded while simultaneously leaning in to hear the old man's answer.

Gale waved dismissively, "Oh, it wasn't anything serious. It's just… with the contents of my bag being so… volatile, I didn't want to put anyone at risk,"

Bo remembered the deafening explosion and secretly doubted whether ten metres was anywhere near enough to keep people safe.

"Over here!" A gruff shout travelled over from the hunters, and everyone turned to watch with bated breath as two of them pointed at a seemingly innocuous spot of sand.

Like a well-oiled machine, the hunters circled the spot and took up positions. The bigger men stood at the front with heavy shields, while the smaller men stood close behind – gripping long spears tightly.

"On my count! One, Two… Three!!"

On three, four spears jabbed at the patch of sand – barely sinking a few inches in. This might have been strange if they were only stabbing sand – but as it turned out, they weren't.

The sand exploded, and as flecks of golden dust rained down on the hunters, obscuring their view – a massive creature hauled itself out of a deep pit.

Bo couldn't help but tremble as he watched the Sarpa emerge. All it took was one look to know he wouldn't have had a chance without a fire stick, and even then, he might not have kept all his limbs.

In all, there were sixteen hunters. Eight shields and Eight spears. To kill anything else in the desert, sixteen hunters would be overkill. In this situation, however, they looked woefully outclassed. The Sarpa towered over them, impossibly large and black as the night. It looked like a bad dream given flesh and blood.

Despite this, they didn't shrink back before its enormous figure. Two shieldmen charged forward and slammed into its giant claws – reaching over their backs in unison; they grabbed an extended length of elastic rope weighed down by stones at either end.

Before the Sarpa could find its bearings, they had thrown the rope around its claws – letting it loop over itself and tying the two ends together.

When the rope was tied tight enough that the claws couldn't open, they crouched down with their shields above their heads.

An instant later, the Sarpa's tail blurred towards one of the men – slamming into his shield and almost snapping the sturdy slab of metal in half. The shield was warped by the blow and ripped from the man's hands, skittering away uselessly, leaving him unprotected.

But the rest of the hunters never gave the enormous scorpion a chance to capitalise on this momentary weakness. While it struck the first man, two others ran around behind it and threw another rope over its tail, making a loop and bracing themselves as they held either end. With their combined weight, they were just barely able to keep the vicious tail in check.

The Sarpa clicked and spat furiously, vainly struggling to open its claws and unable to move its tail freely. It shifted its massive scaly bulk – darting towards one of the men holding the rope around its tail with clicking mandibles.

As it moved, two spearmen jumped forward and jabbed the points of their spears through a chink in the scaly armour that covered its legs. With the spears firmly lodged in place, they wrenched – leveraging their weight to snap off the legs before the Sarpa could protect itself.

From this point on, the winner was already decided. With two legs disabled and no way of fighting back, the Sarpa was systematically dismantled - pulled apart piece by piece until its life bled away, staining the sand the same greenish colour as its blood.

"Oh, I have an idea!" Bo yelled impulsively, rushing over to the still-warm corpse of the beast. "I'll be back in a second!"

He burst through the crowd of spectators and ran up to the nearest spear bearer, "Can I borrow this?" He asked – pointing at the man's weapon.

"Wh-"

Without waiting for permission, Bo grabbed the spear from the bewildered man and charged towards the corpse.

He moved so fast that no one, not even the experienced hunters, had time to react.

In a second, he was upon it – jumping up onto the creature's back and running along to its tail. The tip was hooked and bone white – curving in a distinctly tooth-like shape.

With a slightly manic grin, Bo set to work, sawing off the tip of the tail with the spear. He struggled to cut through the Sarpa's exceedingly tough scales, gritting his teeth as he forced the spear through.

"What the hell are you doing!?" One of the hunters shouted furiously - rushing up to the corpse.

"Remember when Ethron asked me for a dragon's tooth?" Bo grunted as he sliced through the last bit of sinew and pulled the white hook free. "Well, here you are!"

Silence.

Utter silence.

Ethron looked at him similarly to how Bo had seen the old man watching insects. Without a sound, Ethron turned away from Bo – simply pretending he wasn't there.

"Yay!" A little girl's shout came from the still crowd.

"Shh," Her dad brought an end to that quickly.

"Um…" Bo stood atop the scorpion nervously, watching as the Karak glared at him. He rubbed his eyes and blinked twice - trying to clear the fog that had settled over his brain. It suddenly occurred to him that this might have been a bad idea.

"Sorry, I was just… I was just trying to lighten the mood,"

He climbed down from the scorpion and offered the dragon's tooth to the nearest hunter. But the man just scowled and shook his head.

"It's useless now. You need to harvest a few links of the tail with the tip, or it loses all its potency. Now it's just a hook. No venom. No nothing."

"… oh... sorry." Bo looked down at his feet, unable to meet the searing gazes of the hunters, "Do you still want it or…"

"Just go, kid,"

"Okay,"

With the Dragon tooth clenched in his shaking hand, Bo walked back through the tribe – not daring to look at any of their faces as he went.

When he arrived at Fran, he hunched down and furiously studied the dragon's tooth. That way, he wouldn't have to look at her – wouldn't have to stomach her disappointment.

"It's okay," Fran clucked. "I know you didn't mean anything by it, you're just tired,"

"Mm," Bo mumbled.

"Everyone makes mistakes,"

Bo just ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the dragon's tooth. It was bone white and about half the length of his forearm – with little notches and dents documenting every battle the Sarpa had lived through.

"Hey, kid, why don't you help me set up our tent?" Gale asked, hoping to distract him.

"Our tent?" Fran asked.

"Well, I left all my stuff behind because of him. So from now on - we'll be sharing a roof,"

Bo looked up at the old man for the first time, "What?"

Gale grinned, "Did I not mention that? I assumed you knew,"

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly,"

"Uh-"

"Help... me,"

Bo didn't finish his sentence, gazing off into the desert.

"What's wrong?" Fran asked.

"Oh, It's nothing," Bo mumbled, "I just thought I heard something,"

"Ah, you just need some sleep," She chided.

"In our tent," Gale added.

"Alright, help me set it up then," Bo said, ignoring the continued calls for help. They would be gone when he woke up.

Or at least, he hoped so.