“O hero, O hero, have you come?

The need of the hour; the dawn of the sun.

Our battles are lost, and our fights done.

The rise of the moons and the shadows grow num’

Claim Vaegar, and lead us to war.

A true successor will we follow.

Of Vashtii the conqueror,

Lead us to glory and lands of tomorrow”

--Lament of the Elven Forests, Unknown composer

The fire crackled wildly, the sparks scattering up into the night sky.

“Ugh”, I groaned inadvertently as pain snaked through me when I tried to get up. Gnashing my teeth, I braced myself for the damage assessment. I sucked in my breath in and ran probing fingers over my body.

“Ow. Ow. Oww. FUCK! That hurt!” I let out muffled screams as I felt my ribs. Probably broken.

I lay down again, too afraid to jostle myself. The sudden flaring of pain had left me breathless and reeling. In between my frantic pants, I wiped at the clammy sheen of sweat layering my face.

­Tch, I clicked my tongue as sharp grains of desert-sand sliced across my face. A bout of irrational rage welled up at the whole absurdity of the matter- the flight with the Kairex, the fight at the cave, Faeve’s inexplicable behaviour-everything.

Calm down; I took deep breaths, calm down, I told myself again as I dusted off the sand that caked my gloves. My face still smarting, I glanced at the firelight again. Faeve sat deathly still, as if carved from immutable stone.

Faeve. I nudged her with my mind.

Nothing betrayed that she had felt my call. Firelight danced on her, accentuating the sharp lines of her face. Shadows and light cavorted in her eyes, as if she was some ancient statue- the only sign that she was still alive was the slight rise and fall of her chest with every breath she took.

A deep sense of foreboding rose in me. She had always been cold to me-and with reason. But now, she felt the farthest I had felt from her ever since we had our connection.

Faeve. I called for her again through our link. With every passing moment I was becoming more aware of a sense of loss- an empty gnawing inside me. Fuck, the sense of disquiet grew and grew till it buzzed and nagged continuously at the corner of my mind. It was as if some vital part of me was lost.

That’s it! The connection between us-it’s...it’s too quiet. It was as if Faeve had cloistered herself from our connection. Her mind, which would brush against mine ever so often, had fallen eerily quiet, as if she was dead.

But how did you do it? I spoke in my mind out of the habit that had taken root without me realising. Damn it! I growled in my mind and I encountered the wall she had put up for herself, my impatience fuelled by the strange dissonance that was clouding my mind.

The sensation of not having our connection gnawed and ached inside me. The quiet grew to a cacophony of buzzing dins till it felt like my head would burst from the pain of losing a sense organ. Unable to take the silence any longer, I groaned, “Help me, will you?”

Or that’s what I thought I said. Truth is, even my voice sounded so alien, so...wrong to myself without Faeve’s senses to augment my own.

Faeve’s only response was to stoke the fire with a stick. Ember scattered up towards the sky, furhtur throwing her eyes into darkness. She shuddered, and drew her knees in closer. She almost looked like a little girl, in the firelight.

Something’s really, really wrong with her, I felt my mouth going dry as another damning realisation dawned within me. Fuck, just how used to have I gotten to our connection?

The prospect of the Tree having that much control made my blood run cold. I tasted vomit and bile while I dragged myself over the jagged plateau towards a rock. The effort drove air out of my lungs every time I wiggled on the ground.

Fuck, fuck fuck! I swore at the fates, the gods and at everything under Sangraal’s sun as I made my way like a worm. A worm, a self-depreciating laughter bubbled up my throat as I realised how pathetic I must look-crawling, crying with my nose in dirt as I made my way to a rock to rest against.

Mostly though, I cursed myself.

When my hands grasped the weather beaten outline of the rock a sigh of relief escaped my lips. I whimpered and groaned as I positioned to use the rock as my backrest. As luck would have it, it was the windward side of the rock- smooth and sculpted.

The thought of not having to endure the jagged leeward side filled me with a strange comfort. I thanked the same gods I had been cursing but a moment ago. A strained smile stretched my lips

No, I corrected myself. Fuck the gods.

I stared at the brilliantly starry sky spread above us. One of Sangraal’s moons had risen, and another had almost set. The glowing fire did little to outshine the sky. The steady starlight made me wistful for the sky back home, and the hours Yuki and I would spend together poring through the cheap telescope I had bought for her birthday.

The fire crackled loudly, sending up sparks towards the sky, as if to become new stars themselves.

A time long gone, I chided myself and dragged my eyes back down to the problem before me. Now then...

Faeve had drawn herself even closer- like a tortoise retreating into its shell. Her breathing was more pronounced now, as if she was awakening from some cursed slumber. The fire scattered again, her hands held a twig with which she repeatedly stabbed at the fire.

“Faeve”, I called her softly.

She kept stabbing. The fire gave off an acrid smoke.

“Faeve”, I urged again.

She was frantic. Some burning firewood shot out of the fire.

“Faeve!” I bellowed fearing the fire would collapse knowing well what that loss meant in such a chilly night.

My voice startled her. Her body jolted like that of a frightened hare. Her breath came in audible ragged gasps as she became more animated in her movements.

“What”, she croaked without missing a beat, “Did you say something, humankin?”

With her voice, the connection returned. Rather, it crashed into me with the vengeance of a tidal wave. The sudden rush of her thoughts and sensations slammed into my own.

I gasped like I was drowning. The sudden return of feedback from her mind left me reeling- her thoughts leaving screaming gashes on my mind, hot with her terror, pain and a thousand other whirlwinds of emotions.

Stop. Stop. I begged while a scream threatened to tear though me.

Faeve turned her head towards me, her eyes resting on my face, my hair, my eyes. Her eyes saw through me, somewhere far. Her hands had stopped shaking, only to be replaced by shivers.

­­She’s cold, I snapped my fingers to get her attention again. ­She drew in tighter still, shivering all over.

Oh...I realised with a start. That’s not it. She’s...she’s...afraid?

For a brief moment all the loss, all the sorrows she had ever faced was writ plain on her face. Her alabaster face, reddened from the heat of the firelight shook with terror. In my mind, I could feel her scrambling to close off the flood of emotions that had escaped her. Her terror resonated in me, and rose. Try as she might, her mind incessantly crashed into my mind, again and again as if to take control, or destroy.

She kept sobbing as her min slowly, but violently bled into my own. The sand beneath her grew muddy with her tears as she apologized over and over, “Sorry,sorry...”

Elf Assassin my ass, I groaned as the onslaught started slowing down, she’s just a scared, little girl.

After a while, the connection trickled down to normalcy, if this sharing of thoughts could ever be called normal.

“Stop”, I muttered, “Stop apologizing”.

She drew in a breath and fell quiet. Her shaking had stopped too; the hungry desert having had already soaked up her tears.

Sorry Faeve, I sighed as it was my turn to apologize for things I had no control over.

She didn’t face me, instead stared at her hands that had clenched themselves sometime during the ordeal.

“Sorry, Faeve”, This time I muttered, “But this won’t do”.

I snapped my fingers repeatedly. I didn’t want to push her, but... I’m a terrible person. I sighed, but I already knew that, didn’t I?

“Stop it”, she hissed at the loud snaps of my fingers.

“Finally” I sighed. “Welcome back, Major Tom”.

Her eyebrows scrunched.

“Don’t think about it”, I said while waving my hands. On one hand I wanted to describe David Bowie to her on the other...nah, too much work.

“So, let’s go at it one more time”, I spoke with the same caution a giant has around china, “what happened up there?”

Firelight glistened off her suddenly tightened jaws. Feeling the onslaught on her mind coming I added hastily, “without the mental agony”.

A wisp of breath escaped her which might have birthed an amused snort had it been a happier time. Happier time, I chuckled to myself, as if we would ever have that.

“Stay out of it”, Faeve’s voice was hollow as she turned away from me, tending to the flames again.

“Like I said, Elf”, impatience laced my voice, “This. Won’t. do”. Her body quivered as I spat out the words. “We are both stuck with each other. So, better or for worse till we get to that fucking tree of yours we have no choice but to be together. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to stay alive during that time. What you happened there-” I pointed at the cliffs, “could have got us killed”.

The stick in her went motionless. “It’s not for you to know”, Her voice was little more than a whisper, “what happened to me”.

“It is”, I the anger had ebbed from me, replaced by a strange weariness. “You weren’t yourself up there”, my breath caught as I remembered her shivering and terrified in front of the bird, “why? And what if it happens again? Who will save us if half of our fighting force goes mad trying to kill a bird?”

“The Gods surely jest”, Faeve’s hollow voice was like ice down my spine. “All my thoughts, all my desires, all my pain laid bare to your every whim like a Salrest whore and the one time...” Her voice caught.

“Faeve”, I said alarmed at the streaks of tears rolling down her cheeks.

“One time I could do with you knowing my thoughts, I have to speak it out loud”, she finished.

I dared not speak again. She looked...fragile. She looked frightened like a rabbit; hardly the tough as nails assassin I was used to seeing. I swallowed my impatience and asked again slowly, “What happened?”

“The Sun-Elves are a proud people”, She started suddenly, almost afraid that if she didn’t force herself to speak , she’d lose her resolve.

“Really? Never would have guessed it”, I delivered, unable to stop myself.

Faeve gave me a cold stare, her features wrinkling into a mask of disdain. “Shut up, don’t talk and do not utter a single word”, She snapped.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Those are the same things, you know. “Alright, alright”, I relented, “my bad”.

Her eyes drooped again as she spoke. “Long, long ago a long time ago,

The continent was ours, and the rest did cower.

Our reign was the forests at dawn, and the lake at dusk.

Our cities towered over the lands, bereft of time’s shifting sands.

How were we envied, oh how envied!

How were we feared, oh to be feared!

The old gods, inconstant, fleeting,

Their whimsies untold, would venture down and frolic about

Our vast Svartalgurd,

Forests ancient, magickal and protected”.

Faeve’s words had a strange quality to them. As she spoke, I didn’t only hear the verses, but almost felt it. The words fell around us like a sheer fabric, each sound a thread as it knit into being a story.

“Wha...”, I choked my question in, afraid to break the delicate weave her voice was contructing.

“I am surprised you can detect it to such an extent”, Faeve’s voice snapped me out of my daze. A look of genuine surprise played in her eyes. “It hasn’t even been the first stanza and you are glassy-eyed. Surprising. You have quite the low tolerance for Alfanveim”.

My expression must have betrayed my cluelessness, because she immediately followed up, “Elvensong. Word magic used in Elven songs and poetry to entrance the listeners and cast mind magic”

No wonder human bards hated the Elven ones back in Salrest. Now the frequent street corner brawls between bands of roving minstrel groups made much more sense.

“I will stop speaking in Alfanveim. The Towers of The Sun is not for humans anyway”, Faeve said with a sigh. With hardly a pause she resumed her tale, “Everything changed when the Human nations attacked”.

The residual Elvensong hung in the air, making me wistful. Dangerous, I reminded myself, its mind magic.

“The First Cities, the citadels of human civilisations had grown powerful enough to challenge the Sun-Elf kingdoms. By then, infighting and wars of succession had already weakened the Sun-Elves. It was no surprise, however. Where the Sun-Elves strove to protect their forests and cause non harm to them, Mankind was relentless. They cut down those forests, made them into trebuchets, ships and other magical armaments...they killed us with the remains of our own forests”. Faeve’s voice had a tinge of anger onto them.

“Yes, I am”, Faeve’s jaws tightened. “If only the humans had not attacked...”

“So I have heard”, I replied, “On the human side they say the Sun-Elves were absolute autocrats”. Revolution, some bards call it in their songs.

“Perhaps”, Faeve’s voice was hollow. “I know only what I have been taught. Knowing the Sun-Elves...” Faeve lingered as the embers died down in her eyes, “the humans might be right”.

“So, what happened?” I nudged. What does this have to do with the cave?!

Faeve let out a deep sigh, evidently alerted by the connection between us. “I aplogise”, she mumbled as she gulped.

I knew that look well. A deliberate hesitation; a forceful rumination on the wrong details to avoid confronting the real issue.

“A truce was achieved. A very difficult one. After years of fighting wars with no end, the humans and the elves eked out a fragile peace. The Sun-Elf kingdoms however...did not survive. Our cities were burned to the ground, our people scattered and broken. The Sun-Elves were mostly restricted to the Mountain of Trees, and our capitals reduced to one, Olyelnore Ur’van”, Faeve recited, as if from memory.

By now, the fire had been going low. Faeve stoked the fire absentmindedly, the acrid smell from the kindling made her crinkle her nose.

I waited for her to speak. The momentary lull in the conversation had brought to me the howling winds of the desert with its eerie keening. As my eyes adjusted to the low fire, the stars had once again exploded all over the sky, except the dark patchy belt across the horizon, the ring in the sky divided the skies in this planet. I hadn’t noticed when the winds had changed from a blistering wave of heat to a shivering cold.

Huddling closer to the fire, I looked at Faeve. Her features had smoothened over, inscrutable, yet an ever present sorrow painted her delicate face, as if the shadows from where the fire didn’t reach leeched into her, melding her one with the desolate desert. “Speak”, I urged with both my voice and mind.

Her hand trembled, skittering the fire. “Yes”, she acquiesced, “and so began our obsession with our past”.

My eyebrows went up. I knew this phenomenon. The Golden Age, back in earth the people called it. An obsessive nostalgia. A desire to return to the past when everything was good, when everything was better than now, and in no small measure, a lie we told ourselves to convince of our past greatness and take comfort in it.

“And no one is more obsessed about the past glory of the Sun-Elves than the current king, Faelor Ragetide, my adoptive father”

“Yeah, I still don’t...” I words fizzled out as I realised what she said, “I am sorry, WHAT?”

“I said, that the current king Faelo...” Faeve stopped midway as I cut in. “Your father is the king of the Elves?! I croaked.

“Sun-Elves” Faeve corrected, “But yes”. She shifted and touched her nape, her eyes downcast.

“I am sorry, but you’re the daughter of the king?” I asked again.

“Yes, that is what father means”, Faeve offered dryly, “I am astounded by your sharp powers of deduction, O hero”. Her ridicule was almost a physical force slapping me through our connection.

“You’re the fucking princess of the fucking Elves”, I sputtered, my brain still unable to catch up. Holy shit. Holy shit.

“One of them, yes”, Faeve sighed, apparently annoyed now. “Look, if you do not want to hear the rest...”

“I am bonded to a princess of the Sun-Elves”, my voice cracked, “I cut her hair and now have to go her kingdom and meet her father”. Shit, shit, shit.

“Yes”, Faeve answered with visible alarm, the sarcasm in her voice evaporating. “You do not have to be so distraught, human”.

“Your people will kill me won’t they?”, I held my head in hands. Goddammit. Should have just fucking left her.

“With your uncouth manners and speech, most likely”, Faeve nodded, “but not on my account”. “You see”, She said with a ragged voice, “I am hardly a princess”.

“Adoptive or not, you’re still the king’s daughter”, my jaws clenched. “That means trouble. A fucking princess”.

“An exiled one. But I know what you mean”, Faeve whispered, her voice barely audible, “Being a royal in our land is a curse”.

“How?” Disbelief poured out my voice.

“Leave it be”, She demanded, “not a tale worth telling”. A roiling tide of emotions washed over me through the connection. It was like staring down an abyss, a darkened river of pain and sorrow and a hundred other jagged thoughts rolled into the shape of a fragile Elven girl.

“No”, my voice was harsh enough to surprise me. “No more secrets. You’ve kept enough. I will not take a step further if you don’t tell me everything, princess”.

She jolted at the last word like she was whipped. “Do NOT call me that. EVER”, she half screamed, her voice burning with cold, furious anger. Her fury washed over akin to a blade tempered in liquid fire plunged deep within my spine.

“Whatever”, I grimaced. “But I won’t take a journey without knowing what it is I am dealing with”.

“Somaru curse you, Eridan”, Faeve spat, her porcelain skin flushed a deep crimson in anger. “What sins must have I committed to get bonded to you”. Faeve took a deep breath. In that space of a breath, she seemed to transition into a brittle doll of glass fragile enough to break in a strong gust. “Fine”, she resigned herself.

“The King is obsessed about the past. He seeks to reclaim all that is ours, our birthright. He wants to rebuild our kingdom and more”, Faeve’s voice was a monotone devoid of any emotions. “But, we have neither the wealth, nor the strength for it anymore. We are barely a shadow of our former selves. And that’s where Vashtii Ragetide comes in”.

I remember that name. “First Hero-King of Elves?” I asked.

“The very same”, She replied, “more a tyrant, murderer and a rapist, but him indeed”.

Different world, same story, huh? “Isn’t he dead?” I asked, “He is right?” Damn, how long do elves live anyway?

“Yes and no”, Faeve chewed her lips, “He ascended to godhood so while his mortal form has perished, he can be resurrected”.

“Ah, you guys going to do some crazy rituals and sacrifice innocents to bring him back?”

Faeve looked up at me with hollow eyes. “The only ones sacrificed here, is us, human. The sole remaining royal bloodline, the Jorgaens”

A deep foreboding chilled me to the bones. I could not distinguish whether it was something that came from deep within me, or it was the connection but I knew, I knew nothing good could come of it.

“Vashtii had unified the seven Elven tribes, four Sun-Elves and three Moon-Elves. He begot seven royal lines on the seven daughters of the tribe chiefs he had captured. Seven families to rule the elves, to make, and to mar. King Faelor thinks the key to resurrect Vashtii in the mortal world is the blood he carries. He says the blood of the seven royal families has been diluted by commoner blood for far too long to re-birth the divine hero-king Vashtii”, Faeve continued.

Oh no no no. I knew where this was going. Egyptian Pharaohs all over again.

“Therefore, he wants to concentrate the royal blood into most pure form”, her voice cracked.

My worst fears were confirmed. “Don’t tell me...” I croaked

“They started marrying and having off spring with their own siblings”, Faeve’s voice was one of silences dejection. “The current royal family is a product of incest”.

“Is that a taboo like among humans? Who am I kidding, even humans back home do it pretty often.

“Even more than humans”, Faeve answered. “Since Elves live a long time, it is very important to have clean bloodlines due to our low fertility”.

“And yet...”

“The desire to regain what we have lost; no matter how imaginary; makes us do a lot of things, human. All of us”, Faeve almost whimpered, her words grating. “All the detractors and opposers had mysteriously disappeared, killed, or changed their minds. Nothing could stop the royal family from achieving their goals, not even their own people”.

I was at a loss of words. Does that mean Faeve is also intended for her brother or something? Wait a second...doesn’t that mean I’ll be killed as well?!

The connection must have carried some of those thoughts to her. “Oh no, no. There are other pure-blood princesses for my brothers. Princesses born of King Faelor and his sister, now his Queen”.

My jaw dropped. What the fuck is going on in that royal family?

“Ah, you’re adopted. So you’re safe right?” I asked. Though in my heart of hearts...I know fate wouldn’t be so kind.

Little tremors shook her body as she replied, “No. I was meant for father, Faelor himself”, Faeve’s voice broke into short sobs as she trembled like a small animal. Her figure curled up into a small ball with her arms around her knees.

“Say what?!” my jaws hurt from clenching as a red hot anger rose from somewhere deep within me. How dare he try to take my Faeve from me? Despite the cool desert wind, my skin felt like on fire. How dare he...wait... “My” Faeve? The anger I felt ran cold. The tree. The fucking tree is messing with my mind again.

“And then?” My realisation did little to cool down the anger however. My voice was still coloured with rage. “How is it that you’re exiled and how are you fucking assuring me I won’t get killed going to Olyelnore?”

Faeve sat straight, tear streaks marking her cheeks. “My real father was the King’s eldest brother. He was supposed to be the first in line to throne...but he refused. Such a scandal it was, I am told. A royal Sun-Elf prince refused to become the king. He was cast out of the royal line”, Faeve’s voice was remarkably stable.

“That’s why you’re exiled?”

“No”. Faeve shook her head. “Faelor had my father killed. The he took his commoner wife and daughter as his own”.

“You”. This Faelor is fucking mental.

“Yes”, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Is that so he could take you as his wife and continue...his experiments?” I spat in disgust.

“Yes”, her face was ashen.

“After killing your father”, I confirmed. The fucking gall of this asshole.

“Make no mistake”, Faeve’s hands clawed the desert sand, “It was never officially proven. It was rogue assassins, it was said. But I know. By the Sun, I know he had my father killed, that Kairex shit”.

“You tried to kill him, didn’t you? That’s why you were exiled?” Can’t blame her. I don’t even know what I’d do in her stead.

“Yes”, Faeve nodded, “yes I did”. But not as revenge for my father. My mother...she...she had a daughter with Faelor”, her voice faltered. “The sweetest sister I could have had. I do not deserve her, I do not. But...Maeve had the misfortune to be born a royal and she...born of Faelor was to be his wife too”.

“Oh”, I couldn’t trust myself to say anything more. A King, a father obsessed with having children with his own sisters and daughters...fucked up and then some. But as my own world had proven, not outlandish.

“Therefore, I took a knife to Faelor’s head one day”, Faeve’s eyes and teeth shone by the firelight like a ferocious beasts’ “Before he could put his hands on my sister”.

“You tried to assassinate the King”, I spread my hands, “How are you still alive?”

“Well, I am a princess and a daughter of the Tree as well. The Elf King cannot kill me. By the laws of the tree, I must be set free to follow my divine will”

“Finding a guy to bond with?”

“Finding a chosen of the tree, yes”, She seemed like a marionette with her strings cut off. Her “confession” had taken a lot out of her.

I looked her over. The connection between us had flooded me with strange and fearful emotions all this while. The anger, the frustration, the fear born of her had set my body on a cold fire. Her emotions assaulted me almost physically, such were their intensity. It was as if the connection between us had blown wide open.

“I’m sorry”...I mumbled an apology. I...I didn’t mean for this to happen. I...I should have stopped pushing...NO! I steeled myself. Now I know what I am dealing with. It had to be done.

I shambled towards her in an uneasy gait.

Faeve sat with her head between her knees, her arms around herself. My fingers were drawn towards her; her hair blew in the wind like wisps of gold. She sensed my action. Her body stiffened.

Oh yeah. What I did on the ship... “Sorry”, I mumbled. A little smile played on my lips though. The connection told me she...felt light. Poor girl...a massive weight had lifted off her. While we were in any way closer, I could sense she had dropped her guard a little.

Little by little, eh?

Faeve looked up at me. The mask she donned of a cold assassin seemed to have cracked a little, revealing a peek at the fragile, scared girl underneath. I saw my smile reflect back on her face, albeit one shadowed by sorrow. I gulped. I remembered another girl, another time. Arin...I missed her. I miss you Arin. Every day, Every hour.

I know Faeve sensed it too. The shadows on her face deepened.

“Say Faeve”, I said with as much softness my voice could muster.“I still don’t know what happened in the cave”, I confessed.

“You don’t give up, do you? Faeve hissed. “Since our family is obsessed with getting Vashtii re-birthed, every generation tries to mimic the conditions that led him to greatness. That includes an assassin in his family, the one who did his dirty work. And this generation, it is me who has been trained as an assassin”.

The desert wind had grown chilly and wild, whipping the fire into frenzy, as well as aching our bruises and wounds. Faeve waited as I laboriously sank down beside her, our bodies a few centimetres apart.

She resumed, “The mother bird up there was not a Sylphax, but a Kairex. Those birds are extremely possessive of their young. It’s a repetitive training for an assassin initiate to go kill Kairex chicks in their den. Countless days and nights I have spent in dark, musty caves in fear of my life, waiting to kill chicks in front of their mothers”. Faever shivered as the wind whipped at us. She brought her hands closer to the fire for warmth.

Delicate piano fingers, But for thin assassin blades.

“The worst part is that often some of the chicks in a Kairex den is not a Kairex at all, but a Sylphax. Our “Holy Birds” lay their eggs in others’ den and often eat the egg or young already present. The poor host bird continues feeding the Sylphax chick as its own”. Faeve sucked in a deep breath, “I was chased, pecked at, almost killed by Kairex birds, all for youngs not their own. My missions did not allow me to kill Sylphax’ you see, just the Kairex chicks”.

Oh wow. PTSD from her training? I realised something else as well. It wasn’t just the stress and near death experience that haunted her. Her fucked up family life was bad enough, and she had to go kill children in front of parents. Must have been agonising for a young girl, assassin trainee or not.

Faeve had become quiet. The howling winds moaned and keened their strange songs and the desert was alive with wordless music. A gulf of silence stretched between us, the few centimetres of distance between our bodies as vast as the desert itself. We knew what this silence was. It was a tacit, a deliberate understanding to not stir the ghosts of her past, soon to be past no more as we ran headlong into the capital city. This, this silence here was precious, almost sacred. Fragile; but necessary for us both.

“Tomorrow”, Faeve rasped in a heavy voice shattering that silence, “we cross this god forsaken desert”.

Another day; another problem.