The village was even smaller than the boy had assumed. With no more than ninety members, the entire settlement took all of five minutes to walk through on foot. The majority of the tribe were women and children, with perhaps a dozen or so truly capable warriors. Such a meager force would have been instantly overcome and annexed had it existed within sight of Farathun, but such things were less common here. Between the desert's natural protection, and the tribe's own tendencies, they remained somewhat safe from outsiders.

They called themselves the Naru, and they were nomads. The entire tribe roamed the desert, traveling between oases in large caravans that had been passed down through generations. Wood was an incredibly scarce resource, so the majority of their clothes and weapons were harvested directly from desert creatures. They even kept a small herd of Azingi, the strange, hooved creature that the boy had watched them kill. His guide brought him there, after Nicos had asked when they had first noticed his existence.

"He was a castaway," Urz explained cheerfully, while showing off the creatures. "An old bull who'd reached his time. He left in the night, to find a place to die. We knew the poor thing was flagging, but it happened faster than expected."

The boy frowned at the seemingly docile creatures. They were more than passing strange; though they resembled a horse, the skin along the length of each creature's snout was peeled away, revealing soft tissue covered by a mossy green sheen. As Nicos watched, one licked at the exposed mass, its long tongue scraping away a layer of the thick slime.

He wanted to gag.

The creatures were not harnessed in any way, nor were they tied up. The enclosure, if it could even be called that, was waist high. Even the smallest of the animals could simply hop over it. He brought this issue up to Urz, with no small amount of confusion.

"These things are not needed. Not until their time is close," Urz replied. He tapped his own nose. "The azingi feed on the mold that grows inside them, and use it to quench their thirst and hunger. All they need is sunlight, to survive. Why should they wander? The desert provides."

"And they aren't dangerous?" Nicos asked, eyeing the hoofed creatures like they might attack him at any moment. For the overwhelming majority of his life, animals meant danger. Farathun had a small number of cavalry, and the boy was certain that there was a herd of cattle kept somewhere in the citizen's quarters, but he had few interactions with either. He wasn't used to being next to a creature that wasn't attempting to eat him.

"Gentle as a newborn," Urz proudly proclaimed. Then he reached across the fence and slapped the flank of the largest azingi.

Nicos almost flinched in alarm, but the large creature merely glanced behind itself, eyed Urz with a languid expression, then resumed its previous position. Most of the animals simply stood around, seeking neither food, nor cover. Occasionally, a tongue would whip out across their snout, slurping what the boy now knew was a type of fast-growing moss.

The desert, Nicos decided, made no sense to him. This was a problem, seeing as he intended to cross it.

He turned to Urz. "My teacher bid me travel to Bastion, at the edge of the desert. Have you heard of it?"

Something dark crossed the young man's face, and his brow furrowed. "Bastion? I know of this place. Friend Nicos, you should stay far away from there. The people there are not kind."

Nicos doubted that he'd ever met another person that meet Urz's standards of kindness. The Naru were a strange people, willing to share their knowledge, yet not demanding the same from others. It was a mindset that was apparently shared by the other nomadic tribes of the Great Desert, but not by those beyond it.

Bastion in particular, as explained by Urz, was quite fond of sending the occasional, small raiding party into the desert, to steal and enslave whatever and whoever they could find. They respected only strength, and had no qualms about attacking unprovoked. They were almost the complete opposite in temperament to the desert tribes.

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

Nicos could see why Eurya wanted him to travel there. In a land where only strength ruled, he would be forced to prove himself, or die.

"Their lands are fertile," Urz said, "but their people are greedy. They take more than they need, and then they take even more."

His teacher was a tricky one, the boy reflected with some awe. Though the desert was dangerous, the people here were not. The boy could learn from them, and prepare himself adequately for the journey ahead. Conversely, Bastion resided in favorable territory, with water and food in abundance. Yet the people there would kill him without a thought. Which was truly the more dangerous?

Yes, the boy thought. His teacher was clever, indeed.

Forewarned was forearmed. He would not be caught unaware.

"Regardless of their character, my teacher awaits me there, so I must go," Nicos explained. "Do you know a safe path?"

Urz barked out a laugh. "Nothing in the desert is safe, my friend!" He eyed the boy speculatively. "I think, perhaps, though, we can teach you. To survive, at least. Thriving might be out of reach."

Nicos perked up. "I only need to make it to Bastion. How long do you think it would take to learn?"

"That depends on you," Urz replied. He squinted upwards at the Twins, judging the time. Then he spun on his heel, and strode back towards the village. "Come, come," he called, waving Nicos towards him. "Let us see if we can find you a teacher."

The boy caught up with a few quick steps. "You can't teach me?"

"No," Urz laughed loudly. "I am no master. I have my talents, but teaching is not one of them."

They continued back through the village. At some point, the gaggle of curious children had stopped following the pair, though when, Nicos could not say. They had vanished back into the myriad tents that made up the village proper, just as quickly and silently as they had appeared. It unnerved the boy, to know that children half his age could sneak past his senses like that.

He hoped to learn how they did it.

Urz led him to a small clearing, in as much as a desert could have a clearing, sequestered from view by several bone barricades. From beyond them, Nicos could hear a stern voice giving out commands, followed by a chorus of much higher voices crying out in acknowledgement. Urz slipped through the barricade, pulling Nicos alongside him, and they emerged into the clearing.

Two dozen tiny, curious faces stared back at him. And their teacher: an older woman, dark-skinned and short, with hair cropped close to her scalp. She glared at Urz so viciously that the younger man visibly flinched.

"Why are you interrupting my class?" she asked slowly, her eyes flicking to Nicos. "And you've brought along a guest. How exciting." Her voice was drier than the surrounding desert. Nicos swore he heard a soft 'ohhhh' coming from the gathered children.

"Ah, Nemuba, you are teaching today," Urz stuttered, stepping quickly backwards and colliding with Nicos. The young tribesman seemed to barely notice. His hand flailed backwards, latching on to the boy and pulling him away. "My apologies. We'll just be going."

The pair made it to the door, before the woman's voice commanded, "Stop." The words were accompanied by a fierce outpouring of something. A sensation remarkably similar to dread wrapped around the boy's shoulders, settling like an anvil. This, the boy realized vaguely, was pressure. Or something very similar to it.

Urz came screeching to a halt, and Nicos slowed his steps to stand beside him. He could feel the woman's Memory pushing against him, but it was.. not gentle, but not hostile, either. He was very aware of its presence, but it was obvious that she was not attacking him. The things that he felt were merely a side effect of her technique.

Urz was less fortunate. The friendly tribesman was nearly shaking in his boots, and he turned to face his elder with a weak smile. "Yes, Nemuba? How can I be of assistance?"

"You enter without permission, and now you leave without permission?" the old woman asked, arching an eyebrow. "I know I taught you better than that, boy." Her tone was casual. Unassuming. Not a sign of irritation to be had.

It was a trap.

"Of course you did, Nemuba," Urz agreed. Loudly and enthusiastically. His hands were still shaking.

The elderly woman gazed at him for a long moment, then pronounced. "Thirty laps. And you'll be assisting me in packing after the next turn, when we rotate camps."

Urz's shoulders sagged. "Yes, Nemuba."

"And you. Our guest." The old woman's eyes landed on Nicos, and he tried not to fidget. His teacher's gaze was far more intimidating, but the old woman was no slouch.

She jabbed a crooked finger in his direction, then pointed to an open spot in the clearing. "He brought you here to learn, yes? Take your place."

Nicos hesitated for a moment. The class of children stared back at him with wide-eyes, and some, literally open-mouths. It was demeaning, to learn alongside those less than half his age. It was aggravating, and annoying. It would be immensely uncomfortable.

It was necessary.

Nicos sighed, and stood where he was directed.

The old woman smiled, and began to teach.