Nicos spent a half-turn with the tribe learning what they had to teach. Ten days that felt far longer, among a people as foreign to him as they came. The nomadic people regularly camped themselves nearby desert oases. Most of their hunting was done in the immediate area, ambushing prey as they came and went.

The oasis itself was rather small, maybe thirty feet across, but was filled from a deep underground well. The fauna that frequented this particular watering hole were all of manageable size for a human to kill and clean. The Naru valued consistency, and most of their encampments were placed at locations similar to this one.

Urz often spoke of larger oases, deep in the desert, where the truly massive predators gathered and fought for control. Less watering holes than lakes, Nicos suspected that these locations were actually the result of the lingering Memory of a god. The same god that had lived and died over the Gravel Sea. One of water and storms.

He would ask Eurya for confirmation, once they met again, but Nicos was certain that this great desert had once been an ocean. Right up until its god died.

Not that it mattered now.

Nicos was on a hunting trip for the tribe, alongside Urz, and a female hunter named Grasa. The boy had only encountered her a few times, but she had seemed just as eerily polite and welcoming as the rest of the tribe. That evaluation had quickly changed over the course of the hunt. The blasted woman couldn't seem to stop giggling at his attempts to sand-skate.

"Godsdammit!" the boy cursed, as he lost his footing once more. His ass hit sand, and his body followed, sending him skidding down the side of a dune.

Grasa poorly suppressed laughter devolved into snorts, and Urz, the traitor, hid a smile behind his hands.

Nicos glared up at them from where he was splayed out against the sand.

"Well, you've got the sliding part down," Urz commented helpfully. "Now you just need to work on balance."

The boy groaned. "Every time I look down one of these blasted hills, I lose focus and slip."

"At this point," Grasa chipped in cheerfully, "you've probably got more Memories of slipping than skating."

Nicos scowled. "I prefer my way."

He turned on his side, and pressed his hand against the sand. His Memory of the Red Barrens, of solid stone and packed earth, filled his mind, and pushed outwards. The sand hardened, and Nicos stood. He bounced in place slightly, relishing the feeling of solid ground once more.

"See?" he said. "Better."

"Slower," Urz corrected. "And far more exhausting. Skating takes nearly no effort."

"For you," Nicos muttered rebelliously. But the older man was right. This was a useful skill to learn. Even more so, if he could combine it with his own solid-ground version. It would give him an impressive amount of mobility.

The longstride would be even better, but the boy was not keen on experimenting with Eurya's technique again any time soon.

He sighed, trekked back up the dune, and tried again.

They returned after a successful hunt. Whatever Nicos' blunders, Urz and Grasa were more than enough to make up for them. The pair of nomads carried the carcass of a boar, while Nicos trailed behind them holding a pair of the small, furry scavengers that he'd encountered before. No great feast, but there were more hunting parties still out on the desert.

They dropped their kills off to another group of tribe members, who would clean and prepare the meat for the journey ahead. Tonight, the Naru would pack up their camp, and move on to the next oasis. The local fauna needed time to replenish themselves, and the nomadic tribe chafed when staying in one place.

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Nicos was brought before the same elder who had saved him, Urz's own father, who had not grown any less wrinkled or grey since the boy had last seen him. The old man nodded to his son, then cast a considering gaze over Nicos.

"This will be the last day that we can shelter you," the elder said. "It is time for the tribe to move on, and your destination lies elsewhere."

"Bastion," the boy replied, nodding slowly.

"Yes. A city full of Outsiders." The old man scowled. "Be wary of them, Nicos. The desert is dangerous, but not malicious. It does not seek to kill you, it simply is. In Bastion, you will find things to be different."

"I will keep your words in mind, elder," Nicos replied. He hesitated, then added, "Thank you, for the kindness that you've shown me."

"We've done only what we felt was right," the nomad said serenely. "We only ask that you do the same."

Nicos bowed at the waist, showing as much respect as he was able.

The elder grunted, and waved him away. "Go, say your farewells and leave me to rest. I am an old man, and the journey ahead is long."

The village was livelier than usual, as Nicos wandered through it. Various Naru wandered past him, some acknowledging his presence with a nod, and others bustling past in a hurry. The boy's feet took him towards a familiar clearing. The barriers separating it from the rest of the village had already been packed away, but the Memory of the place remained.

He entered, there, and smiled when he realized that he was not alone. There were children practicing. A pair of twins, a boy and a girl. He recognized the latter, as she had practiced beside him when Nemuba had held the class. They couldn't be older than six seasons, all chubby-fingered and clumsy. The two were clearly training their ability to read, crouched down in the sand with their eyes closed. Nicos stepped forward, letting his feet sink into the ground, and grinned when their eyes opened in surprise.

"You sensed me?" he asked.

The boy flinched, and hid behind his sister. The girl, the braver of the two, blinked up at Nicos with wide eyes. Her wild, tangled hair bounced as she nodded shyly, clearly recognizing him.

He grinned down at her. "You're doing better than I am. I still haven't gotten this down." Granted, he was able to work out a bastardized form of it. His technique was slower, and less precise, but it didn't leave his brain a drooling mess.

He preferred it.

The tiny Naru girl shifted nervously, kicking at the sand. Her brother held himself still, like some kind of frozen prey animal, gazing uncertainly at Nicos.

"Nemuba says we need to practice more," the girl said, wringing her hands slightly. "She says we'll be moving to the older class next time we camp."

"Nemuba thinks you have potential," Nicos said with a smile. "She just wants to encourage you."

"Nemuba can speak for herself," a voice spoke from behind him.

The boy yelped louder than the children, tumbling forward and spinning into a crouch. His hand automatically went for his sword, but paused once his brain caught up with his instincts.

Nemuba cackled at him, like an evil old witch. Her eyes snapped to the twins, and she said, "Shala, Toru, your parents are calling for you. Run along now, while I talk to our guest."

The children nodded, and scampered away. The girl, Shala, waved at Nicos as she ran.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "I'll miss this place."

The old woman grumbled something under her breath. Speaking louder, she said, "We'll be leaving soon. Has Urz given you directions to Bastion?"

Nicos nodded. "Along with a handful of warnings to reconsider. My teacher is waiting for me, so I must go."

"I won't repeat his words, then," Nemuba conceded. "You are likely better equipped to deal with them, than the Naru. You are not one of us. That could be considered a strength, in these matters."

Nicos bowed to the old woman, with the same respect he'd shown Urz's father. "I am not one of you, but you've still taught me much. Thank you, Nemuba."

"It is our way," the old woman replied simply. She waved a hand at him. "Now make yourself useful, and help an old woman pack her tent."

The Twins were vanishing beneath the horizon by the time the tribe set off. They skated along on foot, leaving no signs of their passing save the hoof marks of their tame azingi. Nicos watched them fade into the distance, moving unerringly towards the next oasis.

He felt a familiar clenching in his chest at the sight. Urz was the closest thing the boy had ever had to a friend. The Naru were the closest thing he'd ever felt to a community. He had lived too far from Farathun to ever really bond with its people.

It was distressing, Nicos was forced to admit, to think that he might not ever see the nomads again. But he had accomplished what he had set out to do. He had learned what he needed to survive. All else... he consigned to Memory. He would treasure it, and move on.

Urz's directions to Bastion were not dissimilar to Eurya's. Nicos followed the descending Twins, walking towards that blaze of orange and red that danced on the edge of the world. He was alone, and a full turn's walk from his destination. But he had a full canteen of water, with a larger spare that the Naru had gifted him. He had jerky, dried and salted, that would last him weeks longer than the journey would take. He had his sword, and the techniques that he had learned, to survive.

The boy set out towards Bastion, feeling confident for the first time in ages.