How much longer, how many more days, how far would he follow the moon? Questions filled Kanu’s mind the instant he stepped away from the cave. More than any other question he was focused on what he had just encountered. Kanu had seen many different colors of skin, travelers who had come from other villages or far away cities and were passing through. He had never seen skin that lacked color, but the eyes disturbed him more than anything else. He knew that they would haunt him for days to come but he didn’t know just how much they would truly alter the path of his life.

As the sand began to show spots of green beneath the moon Kanu increased his pace. Grass meant water had to be near. He continued until he located a small watering hole surrounded by vegetation. Kanu didn’t check his surroundings as he usually would, nor did he attempt to see clean the water was. He stuck his head beneath the surface, the lukewarm water cooling him from the heat. He pulled his head to the surface, not pausing before clasping his hands together and scooping handfuls of water into his mouth. His thirst had been quenched, his belly was distended as he rested on his back staring up.

A sword thrust into his face, longer than his own sword, a glistening silver. The person holding it dressed in long flowing clothing, only their eyes visible, the rest of their head covered by a piece of cloth with a checkered pattern. The person shouted in a language that Kanu had never heard before.

“I do not understand,” Kanu shouted back causing the person to pause.

“What are you doing here,” the person asked, in Kanu’s language but with a heavy accent and inflection on the wrong words.

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Kanu had never feared for his life so often in a short period of time. He told this person his story, from his birth to being ousted, and the white eyed child. Kanu did not speak of his nightmares, nor the voice that had been guiding him for days. He barely believed them himself; he did not expect a stranger with a sword to hear the words and not put an end to his life. When he was done the person sheathed their sword and uncovered their face, wrapping the cloth around their neck before taking a seat next to Kanu.

The person was beautiful by any standards, but strange to Kanu. The slight shadows of facial hair let Kanu know he was looking at a boy about the same age as he was, yet he seemed feminine in some way. The boys skin was lighter than that of Kanu’s but they had similar facial structure. Kanu had been large among his own people but the boy standing over him now would only come to his shoulder if he stood. His frame was also much thinner, even beneath the clothing it was clear his body lacked the same level of muscle that Kanu had. His hair was textured, but not nearly coiled as tight as Kanu’s own. Another tribe? How far had Kanu drifted?

“My name is Hassian. My parents are merchants. We travel across this continent to sell our goods,” the boy spoke.

“Continent,” the word sounded strange to Kanu.

He had no formal education, but it was clear that Hassian had one, stopping to explain words as he spoke. Hassian had come to morn a friend. They had journeyed to this location once when they were children but his friend had died and the void in Hassian’s heart was filled with the greatest sorrow he had ever known. He resigned himself to the end of his life this evening until Kanu appeared before him. Even then, he felt he would end Kanu’s life, then his own. But the story of the white eyed child filled him with fear, the same as it had Kanu. Suddenly it became the utmost important thing for Kanu to speak with Hassian’s people.

“Who was the child,” Kanu asked.

“It is no one now,” Hassian didn’t elaborate more as Kanu waited. “We need to go.”

“I need to know.”

“Then I shall tell you as we travel.”