A large blob momentarily blocked the suns rays, then blocked it again. It took a long moment before Soren realized it was a face. A very dirty face,

“Still alive?” it was saying, Soren blinked then groaned. Every muscle in her body protested at once. She groaned again and tried to turn. She couldn't even move her head.

“Hold still,” she heard, seeing movement as she moved her hand under her to push herself up. Her skin pulled as dried mud broke apart all over her. How long had she been laying there? As she rose, Soren tried to look around. Her body was partly stuck in the quickly drying mud. It packed one of her ears and she couldn’t hear out of that side even as she managed to sit up then stand.

She started and backed up quickly, seeing she’d been using the carcass of the dead Mule-horse as a pillow. The smell of earth and sweet putridity covered her. She sat there a moment massaging her sore arm muscles. Her head throbbed but she could certainly tell it was likely from the branch and not the Shifts. Soren heard footsteps above her and saw a woman returning to her with a waterskin. Her head was wrapped in a damp cloth and only her eyes and the bottoms of her legs were visible. She wore a long blanket like robe wrapped tightly around her and fibrous sandals. Soren’s stomach made a loud growling sound as the figure approached with a waterskin.

“Eh, dirty but no kill.” a rough and accented voice called down to her. Soren took the waterskin and drank gratefully. Almost immediately the woman snatched the waterskin out of Soren’s mouth,

“What doing!?” she asked angrily, Soren was confused. Hadn’t she just handed her the waterskin? Was she not a dying girl in need of water?

“what’s, wrong?” Soren asked indignantly,

“Grah, Zai’iki. Make you sick…” And she imitated Soren as if she were chugging the entire waterskin.

“sip, slow-ly.” The woman acted it out again, taking a small sip of water then waiting a moment, then taking another. Soren heard something familiar in the other words though, she’d never been called whatever a Zai’iki was.

“what’s a Zai’iki?” Soren asked. the woman pointed absently back up the opposite direction without looking.

“Zai’iki, Zai’iki” she said again.

“back… north? A northerner?” Soren asked. The woman looked at her like she was completely daft as she handed her back the waterskin she'd just snatched from her. It was hard to mistake Soren for a northerner with her dark skin and light tan eyes. But she took the waterskin back and followed her instructions, sipping slowly.

“Right, sorry.” Soren said taking another small sip before saying,

“Not sure if you noticed but I am not a northerner. I am Yunadaya, like you.” Even with half her face obscured Soren knew the woman was giving her a dubious look. The woman made a scoffing noise saying,

“Not Yunadaya, not human, little thing.” Soren just looked at the woman. Of course she was Yunadaya, She'd been accused of it enough in her life. And she was certainly human. Ten fingers, ten toes, two arms and legs, she was pretty sure she fit the criteria and was about ready to tell this strange woman as much before she stopped herself. Litaelim had told her she needed to follow her hadn’t she? She supposed either way, she needed the woman. Soren had no idea where she was or what to do. She doubted she could walk back home at this point. Not without supplies. She swallowed her words, taking a moment before saying,

“Your name is Frey'yala right? I saw you talking with my mama. How did you make it out here so fast? Were you taken by the flash flood too?” Freyyala looked inquisitively at Soren before saying,

“No.” and she made a motion with one hand as if it were walking on the palm of the other.

“You… ran here?” Soren asked, the woman did not reply and looked off at the southern horizon. Soren followed her gaze. The shallow creek-bed flowed about two hundred feet in that direction before emptying out into a huge basin. The land all around her shimmered with heat mirages and just looking at it made Soren thirsty again. She turned back to Freyyala and asked,

“What now?” She turned back to Soren and stared for far too long. Soren felt herself begin to squirm under the intense gaze. Finally the older woman said,

“Come if you” and she pointed at Soren,

“want. But no wait.” She stopped and held out both thumbs and in a strange gesture Soren had never seen as she repeated,

“No. Wait.”

“Ok, ok. I get it.” Soren said getting to her feet. She was in bad shape. Missing one of her boots, her trousers were ripped on the left side and she had only her undershirt on. She looked around the debris for her other boot but realized it was pointless to even try. The ground had already solidified and there was little chance of finding anything. Still, Soren swiveled her head back and forth, scanning her surroundings. There was no boot to be found, but plenty of other refuse had been caught in the slurry. A broken wagon wheel was just to her side, next to it lay an open jewelry box, empty but besides a bit of dried mud at the bottom. Past that, broken pieces of wood jutted out of the ground like reaching arms. Multiple burlap bags were strew about here and there and most disturbingly, what looked like the end of a finger lay not three feet from Soren. Freyyala began heading towards the reflecting heat of the dried lakebed.

“No wait! I need my other boot!” Soren yelled at her, pointing to her bare foot. The woman didn’t look back and didn’t respond. She just kept walking. Desperately Soren searched the ground for something, anything she could use. The best she found was a ripped piece of cloth that had been half buried in the creek. It ripped as she tried to pull it from the hardened earth. It wasn’t much but she tied it around her bare foot and began to walk awkwardly behind Freyyala. As they made their way down to the edge of the lake Soren saw something off to the left of her that caught her eye. A glint of gold that reflected the bright suns. She hobbled up to it and stared dumbfounded. Laying there atop the drying creek bed, as if left just for her were the two books Dr. Hayes had given her. They were almost completely undamaged. Somehow avoiding the water damage that should have ruined them both. She flipped through the pages and was shocked to find the words clearly legible, though she still had a hard time read most of them. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how it had gotten all the way out here and in such good shape.

Standing up with the two books, Soren suddenly had a strange feeling. If someone had put the books there for her, it could just as easily be for ill than good. It was too easy, and she almost left the books where they were. Just before she made to move her hand away however, she heard Freyyala behind her say,

“No touch! Evil. Lies.” She was staring past Soren, to the small thin book on the ground and pointing.

“No touch! Lies.” She hissed again. Soren pursed her lips and nodded curtly. Then, when Freyyala had turned, Soren snatched the books quickly and hid it in her undershirt. There was something about those old Yunadaya superstitions that she also didn’t like. She couldn’t explain it. Then, her fathers words came back to her, “Writing something down does not make a lie true, or a truth a lie.” Also, she thought, hadn’t Dr. Hayes given the books to her? They were hers now and really, she should look after them, for the Doctor.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The two figures passed like mirages themselves in the heat. A light breeze kept Soren cool most of the day, yet she still labored under the oppressive weight of the suns as the day wore on. Every hour or so, Soren had to take off her one boot and switch it onto the other foot. She began seeing each switching as a blessing, a small gift to the foot that had last endured the hard ground without protection. Trying to keep her mind off her pain, Soren studied the "lake" around her. She was surprised by the uniformity of the basin as they walked down. It was shaped in an almost perfectly concave bowl. She hadn’t noticed it until they had begun to near the center of the lake. As she looked around in every direction, the lake rose up in a perfect bowl. It was eerie in its preciseness and the two stopped not long after reaching the center. Soren’s knees had begun to ache from the constant downward trek. She took the waterskin from Freyyala and slowly sipped the water gratefully.

“I wonder what it was like here when the lake was full of water.” Soren said. She watched Freyyala take the waterskin and pour twelve droplets of water onto the parched ground. The woman chuckled and looked at Soren.

“Water? No, no water.” She said still chuckling,

“Ead’Odali” she said,

“eah-‘odalay?” Soren tried to imitate. She had never heard of the phrase. Not that her mother had taught her much.

“Ead’Odali” Freyyala said again, then she put up a hand with the index finger and thumb making a circle and held it up to her eye. Then she pointed up. Soren stared at the woman blankly, then looked back up at the sloping range all around her. Freyyala stood, still shaking her head and corked the top of the waterskin. She didn’t say anything but continued walking south. Soren stood slowly, her feet starting to become truly sore during their brake. As they walked on, she was surprised that the pain eased a bit with the movement. A few hundred feet further, they passed what Soren assumed to be a low wall.

As they approached it she wasn't surprised she had missed it on their approach. The wall was roughly shaped in a circular pattern making it look like a strange long, thin hill. To the west Soren noticed the long wall stretching from the small of it out into the mirrored desert. Freyyala didn’t say anything about the strange ruins, and the two avoided talking as they walked around the eastern edge. They continued on in silence, the strange hump quickly disappearing into the mirages around them.

Before long, the way began to slope upward. Slowly but surely, Soren began to feel the incline in her calves. An annoying ache quickly turned into burning agony as the incline went on and on. Hours passed, Soren only knew that she had swapped her boot from one foot to the other four times. For her part Freyyala actually seemed to be speeding up as they continued the climb upward. The thin woman’s endurance astounded Soren, more than once she noticed the woman begin to speed up before slowing again to allow Soren to catch up. It was as if Freyyala longed to race up the incline and dash off into the desert.

As the pale green hues of midday slowly faded into ever deepening reds of sunset the two finally crested the top lip of Lake Caterwaul. The heat of the day had finally begun to dissipate and with it, the reflective mirage of the heat waves. As they came over the top of the crest, Soren noticed something shine on the ground at the lip that didn’t disappear as she got close. She bent down and dusted off the ground. Underneath the thick layer of dust and sand was a shiny unpolished surface. As she cleared more of the dust away, she uncovered more of the shiny surface. Suddenly she stood and looked behind her, realization lit up her face. This wasn’t a lake; it had never been a lake. Soren had just crossed a massive well thing. She didn't know what it was, some kind of reflective structure. Even as she looked out at the concave depression, she could see small patches of shiny material stick out in contrast to the dirty browns of the dirt that covered most of the structure. As she looked out astonished, trying to puzzle out what she was looking at, Soren noticed something else. A figure following their path, at least two miles behind.

Soren came up to Freyyala’s side, she pointed behind them saying,

“There’s, there's someone back there.” Freyyala didn’t turn around but had stopped facing out towards the ever-expanding desert in front of them. She didn’t say anything for a moment only staring into the expanse of dunes and fading light in front of them. Finally she asked,

“hide or run?” Soren wasn’t sure what to say, why was she asking her? She didn’t know anything! But her aching feet screamed to hide. She gave in to the feeling.

“Hide.” she said.

Freyyala sighed and nodded, finally looking back at the figure behind them. Even from a distance Soren could tell it was a man. He was big, very big in fact and was jogging up the incline at a steady pace. Freyyala began moving towards the dunes in front of them saying,

“Come.” And Soren followed the woman. As the dirt gave way to soft sand, Soren felt the ground begin to climb once again. In the sand, Soren noticed she had to work twice as hard to climb half as high. Though she had hated the long incline they had just finished, it was nothing compared to the sand. Her boot quickly filled with sand as her booted foot lost as much footing as it got. Before they had reached the top of the dune, Soren had removed the boot. She made much quicker work of the sandy incline with bare feet. Soon they were looking down from the crest of the dune. Freyyala was already walking along the top of the crest but she turned as Soren reached the top. It was a sharp point where they crested. From here the dune worked its way from east-west, curving to the south. Freyyala was walking along the other side of the dune, low enough that she couldn’t be seen from the other side of the dune.

“Follow” she said, then waited for Soren. Soren found her footsteps and tried to keep to them as best she could. The woman had a much longer stride than Soren, but with the ever-eroding sand, she managed to stay within a margin of error of Freyyala’s trail. A wind kicked up behind them as they reached the bottom of the dune. Soren had noticed that walking parallel the side of the dune was much easier than trying to fight her way directly up the thing. Freyyala had stopped at the bottom where another dune began and Soren began to wonder what she had gotten herself into. She hadn’t eaten since the festival, well over a day ago, perhaps longer depending on how long she had been asleep in the creekbed. She could feel her exhaustion and hunger begin to take hold as she watched Freyyala eyeing the next dune.

To Soren’s relief, they did not immediately begin cresting the next dune. Then her heart fell as Freyyala began to backtrack, back up the crest they had just come up from. It took just as long to travel back up the way they came, by the time they had reached the top where they had originally crested the dune, the last dark red lights of Ahriman were dipping below the western horizon. Soren desperately wanted to peek over the crest of the dune and see how close the figure was and at one point almost did but Freyyala stopped her with a low hiss and motioned her to follow. She slid down the steep side of the dune and Soren followed taking long awkward steps. Freyyala turned and looked at Soren when they reached the bottom and frowned. Looking back up, Soren noticed that her long steps had created obvious tracks in the dune. Freyyala raced back up to the top of the dune with a speed Soren had not expected. Then she slid down again and Soren noticed that as she did so, she masked her trail behind her. Now it looked as though their descent could have been a errant wind or act of erosion.

At the bottom of the dune Soren noticed that the ground was much harder, in places even solid. This time Freyyala motioned for Soren to lead. She pointed to the west where a small valley continued and said,

“Go. Stay straight.” Soren did as she was told and on the more solid and flat ground, found that she could move quicker than she had expected. Behind her she heard Freyyala masking their trail with the sheet she had worn all day. Finally the two reached the other end of the valley, where two other dunes met at their low points. Freyyala went around one of the dunes and laid out her sheet. Soren was shocked when she looked at Frayyala. The woman had no Control mark. No tattoo over her heart, showing what her birth dates were. The lack of concentric circles over the heart startled Soren though she knew it really shouldn't have. She couldn’t help also noticing the pair of curved daggers attached at each of the woman’s thighs. She watched curiously as the woman piled sand onto the sheet before laying it smooth. Freyyala had covered the entire thing with sand so that none of the cloth could be seen. Then with an odd wiggling motion she shimmied her way underneath. When she was halfway under, she looked back at Soren saying,

“Come Zai’iki.” Soren hesitated for only a moment before following to the side of the woman. She shimmied her own way under the cloth, trying to move as little of the sand on top as possible. When she was all the way under the camouflage, Soren felt Freyyala put more sand on top of them and smooth it out, then she squirmed her way under as well. The two waited for a long time under the sheet. Soren began to get restless and she could feel a cramp coming in her aching feet. She tried with all her will to ignore the developing pain. For a while Soren thought she had done it. Eventually though, the pain came back. The cramp quickly became too much this time and she knew she’d have to move. Yet just before she involuntarily moved, the sheet was suddenly yanked off them and Soren turned over and looked up into a dark sky, obscured by an even darker figure.