Freyyala wasted no time. The instant the cloth was ripped off them, she was already following it with a dagger in each hand. Soren didn’t see or know how the woman had moved so quickly. By the time She had turned over and seen the large man, Freyyala was already lunging at him with two daggers, his hands still full of the cloth. Freyyala screamed as she raced towards the man who backed up quickly, just avoiding a dagger to the neck. He threw the sheet at Freyyala who slashed at it with one of her daggers tearing the thing to the ground. The large man backed up further, putting distance between himself and the wild woman. Freyyala crouched down, two daggers held in each fist, the points held downward. She held one bladed fist out and beckoned the man to come. To Sorens surprise the big man had two meaty arms held up, palms out in a gesture of peace.

“Whoah there.” He said. Suddenly Soren knew who this man was. The big man from the Troupe.

“I mean no harm.” He said. His eye flickered to Soren then back over to Freyyala.

“Please” he said, continuing.

“I'm lost and only followed you because I didn’t know where else to go.” Freyyala didn’t move from her crouched position yet Soren noted a slight shift in the woman’s grip as she licked her lips indecisively. Suddenly, Soren’s dream came back to her and though terrified, she moved towards the crouched woman. she made to Put a hand on the woman’s shoulder then thought better of it and said,

“Freyyala. I know this man. He means us no harm. He’s one of the actors from town.” Freyyala finally took her eyes off the man and looked up at Soren. The woman stared at her for only a moment, and she thought she had seen something like betrayal race across the woman’s face. Then it was gone in an instant and Freyyala had her daggers back in their sheaths and was picking up her cloth and wrapping around herself again. Soren and the big man both let out small sighs at the same time, looking at each other. Freyyala had already begun picking up her waterskin and was making to start walking south again. The whole thing took less than a minute.

“Wait. Please Freyyala.” Soren said. The woman looked back at Soren with fire in her eyes and said with unmistakable pique,

“No Wait.” Then turned and began making her way in the light of the stars. Soren looked back at the man and shrugged, then motioned with her head to follow. The man didn’t say anything but followed. They both kept a distance of about fifteen feet from Freyyala who began walking at a marked clip.

“My name is Soren Pickett.” she said quietly to the man, wanting to make up for the disaster of an introduction. Though she was still far from sure she could trust him, she did trust her dreams and she trusted Litaelim for some reason though she didn't know why.

“I’m Coratel” the man said. His voice was deep and there was something alien about his accent Soren couldn’t place. she'd heard northerners before even one's from far to the north. His sibilance was off. He was also clearly a strange man in a strange land. It was as if his very being protested against the desert. Something about him just didn’t belong in the desert. He stood out in a way waanathema to Soren. Soren who'd stood out her whole life inwardly laughed at the idea. Freyyala deftly picked a trail through the dunes making her way south. Soren looked at the big man as she asked,

“How did you make it this far south? Did you get swept away by the flood?” as she asked she noticed his face fall and a look of sadness came into his eyes.

“My wagon.” He said pausing, then continued,

“My wagon fell into the creek a couple of miles outside of town. The whole Troupe was scattered. We shouldn’t have been traveling in that black storm.” He paused for a moment before saying,

“I lost everything. I floated for a long time on the ruins of my wagon before I finally snagged on something a couple hours before dawn. When the rain stopped I made it to shore. Then I walked." He said this with a shrug and Soren thought he was done speaking but he went on, "I'm unsure where I was, so I followed the water. Figured I’d least have something to drink. I saw that woman, she was running along the opposite side of the creek. So I followed her the rest of the day and into the night before I lost her. The next morning I tried to pick up her trail but couldn’t find anything until I got to the end of the creek. I saw you two going into the basin and followed. You almost lost me on those dunes but I’ve been tracked myself and know a few tricks.” Soren interrupted saying,

“Wait, how many days since the rains?” she asked. The big man stopped looking at her inquisitively.

“I assume you've got a story too then. How did you manage to make it so far south? Surely that woman didn’t carry you?” Soren made a loud snort and Freyyala looked back angrily before turning and speeding up her pace.

“No, floated most of the way down like you. Not sure how I survived without drowning but at some point I guess I passed out. When I came to, I was stuck in the mud and Freyyala,” and she pointed to the woman, “was above me with a waterskin.”

Coratel nodded at this and scratched his whiskery chin. The two walked on in silence for a long time. Soren made a note of the stars which were bright enough to light their way in the desert twilight. They continued like that for hours, following Freyyala at a distance, avoiding the crests of the largest dunes.

"She said I'm not Yunadaya." Soren said into the silence. Coratel didn't slow but he did turn and look at her before saying,

"Well, you can't judge the weather by how many suns are out can you?" he said. Soren had never heard the idiom and it only added to Coratel's strangeness. Soren didn't reply and as night crept on, she became certain they would never stop. She just knew Freyyala was some kind of desert monster who needed not sleep nor water and never tired. Soren felt herself go into a dreamlike trance as she walked, exhaustion overriding everything yet somehow, she remained on her feet, walking. Eventually though, the smell of the desert changed and Soren noticed something else in the air. The distinct smell of water caught her attention and she snapped out of her dreamlike trance. She looked up to see a small structure partly buried, built up around a divot in the dunes. A small spindly palm tree stuck out incongruently from the starry tan world around them. As they approached Soren heard the soft splash of water from inside the small hut. She paused at the entrance, looking at Coratel who only had eyes for the entryway as he walked in.

Inside, Soren found Freyyala taking the water on her finger and dripping twelve drops onto the ground. Then she took the bucket of water and fully clothed, dumped the entire thing over her head. Her breath came hard as the cool water washed over her and she smiled in satisfaction before dropping the bucket back into the hole in the center of the small hut. The bucket was attached to a metal chain and as it fell with a loud splash Soren saw the small smile slip from Freyyala’s face. Pulling her own bucket of water up, she imitated Freyyala and with her finger dropped twelve droplets of water onto the now soaking wet ground before dunking herself with the rest of the water. It was cool and refreshing and Soren felt herself breathing hard with the shock of it.

“Why do you drop some of the water on the ground?” Coratel asked quietly when they had all drank their fill and Freyyala had refilled her waterskin.

“I don’t know,” Soren said honestly,

“Freyyala does it twelve times, I think it’s an old sign of respect for the Twelve.” Freyyala was within earshot of the two though said nothing. Coratel however nodded and said,

“Yes, they would do that sort of thing down here. You're not wrong to imitate her I suppose. It is your lineage no matter what she says.” He said quietly, looking into Soren’s tan eyes. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything at all. Freyyala moved closer to the two and spoke.

“Stay here. Sleep. Safe.” she pointed towards the doorway of the small shack. Saying,

“No sleep…” she paused staring at the sandy ground Soren and Coratel were sat upon.

“Here.” She said. Immidiately Soren had a vision of getting bit by a snake with the poison to make her sleep forever. She sat up quickly and made her way into the small shelter. Slowly, Coratel followed her inside, though he never took his eyes off Freyyala.

“I don’t trust her.” he whispered at Soren as they sat down.

“She has saved both our lives already by bringing us here.” Soren said. Her eyes were beginning to close on their own, betraying her exhaustion.

“Maybe,” Coratel said,

“Though she may just be waiting for the right moment. You may look the same, but even I can tell you're not from the desert like her.” He said. Soren even as exhausted as she was found herself upset by his words. Part of her knew he was right. She was not of the desert. Though, she was not of the north either. She was caught in between worlds and unable to be in either. The realization of her identity awoke in her feelings of ambivalence she had never experienced. The emotion was as alien to her as Coratel, in her exhaustion and confusion the feelings wrestled for control. As she sat there with her thoughts, Soren experienced a new kind of awakening. It wasn't the first time she'd had to face her own identity but the perspective felt new. The prospect of explaining it to strangers was all the more daunting for it.

“You’re right.” She said,

“I am not from the desert. But neither am I from the north as Freyyala believes. I am something different, something in between.” She said. Coratel looked at the young girl, regret shown in his face for a moment and Soren looked at it with a small feeling of satisfaction.

“I’m exhausted” she said, and Coratel looked down at the small thing in wonder. Something in her words stirred long forgotten feelings in the man and he realized then and there in that small shack that he would do anything, anything in the world to protect this girl and he wasn't sure why. Sure his mother had told him who she was, but that meant so little then. Now in front of her, he wondered at the girls pull on him. She was a version of himself with a weight he did not understand but was all too obvious. She closed her eyes and within moments her small head was rested against his arm. Minutes later, Coratel closed his own eyes and followed Soren into a deep sleep of both of their making.

*

“Be careful with that one. He’s dangerous and not just to his enemies.” A feminine voice is saying next to Coratel. He’s walking along a clear road. It is night and small rocks crunch under his weight as he walks. The tall thin trees of his youth line the road and he sees in their branches the young greenish gold of spring. As he walks he carries a lantern that struggles to stay alight. Inside the lantern is a wick attached to a metal cup that swivels into an oil bath underneath. He doesn’t understand the contraption and understands even less of how he’s supposed to keep the thing alight. As he turns the lantern back and forth he sees a circle of light moving back and forth magnified on the scenery around him. He looks back at the woman who just spoke yet she is gone, replaced by a man in a wide brimmed hat and balaclava. He carries a long contraption of wood and metal Coratel doesn’t recognize. The two men walk on in silence, cresting a small hill then descending and heading to the right as the trail of gravel dictates. Coratel feels his insides squirm as the man next to him slows. He can hear the crunch of footsteps behind his own. Despite his inward terror, Coratel doesn’t look behind but continues on, sure the man will take him by surprise and kill him at any moment. He continues on like this until he sees a fork in the graveled trail.

“that’s not where that body fell. It can’t be.” he heard the figure behind him say. He heard is own voice saying,

“well, ain’t nobody been here since then. Not sure how he could be anywhere’s else.” Coratel says this in an accent not his own. Then he suddenly realizes he isn’t actually either of the men, but another member of the audience, watching this scene play out from above. He watches as the man with the wide brimmed hat takes the long stick contraption and points the end of it to the back of the other man’s head. Coratel watches in horror as he pulls at a strange, small lever on the thing. A blinding light and horrific cacophony sounds from the end of the thing. The other man, who was Coratel only moments before, falls forward with the blast. A fine red mist lay’s in front of him in the air as he falls, gravel crunching under the weight of his body hitting the ground. The other man in the wide brimmed hat lowers his wood and metal contraption. He then turns his head upward and looks directly to where Coratel is watching, a wide and terrifying grin smattered across his face before Coratel is torn awake.

*

Soren and Coratel jolted awake at the exact same time. They looked at each other with confusion and distrust in both their eyes.

“what…” Coratel said, not sure what he meant. Soren was already looking around. She had seen the exact same dream, somehow she had known it wasn’t her dream. She had traveled into Coratel’s dream and she had known it like knowing someone else’s scent. Everything about the dream was foreign and bizarre to her and as she became alert again, she shuffled away from Coratel, uncertain of the person in front of her. Coratel looked oddly at her, a confused look laid bare. The dream had felt more real than anything he’d ever experienced. Even the memory of it now, he could smell the trees of his homeland far, far to the north. He turned his head without finishing his sentence and looked outside. The pale green of Ahura was already beginning its descent, and the lighter reds of Ahriman were adding stronger hues of red. They had slept for the better part of the day, well past midday.

Soren felt a soft prickling on her arm where the tendrils of Caracara's connection were. The mark seemed darker to her but she couldn't be sure.

"Soren?" she heard him ask in her mind.

"Hey Caracara, where have you been?"

"I've been on the shores, looking for information on Madrid. Soren we need to talk. That thing isn't a man at all. When I said Dreamers didn't exist, I guess I didn't know the whole story. He's not of the world not of this reality Soren. Take it from a creature born from infinite nothingness, that thing does not belong in the world of creation."

"So he's a Dreamer?"

"I believe he is. And I believe is is the exact Dreamer from that play we saw. An interesting coincidence that. Anyway, he's old Soren, perhaps not as old as me, though perhaps older. I can't really say. I found enough memories of him along the shore though to convince me he's the real thing."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"So what does that mean? I thought Dreamers helped people in Enki's realm. That's what all the stories say."

"Stories are one thing Soren, this is another altogether. I can't say what he wants or what it means that he's after you. All I know is its best we avoid him for now. I'll try and do some more digging here, I'll find you next time you sleep and we can talk more then." before Soren could continue, she was interrupted by the big man next to her.

“We need to leave.” He said looking around the small shack. Soren snapped out of her musings with Caracara. She suddenly returned to their situation and was out the door and running up the nearest dune in a matter of heartbeats. She came racing back down it after looking in every direction.

“She’s gone. Freyyala is gone.” A heaviness suffused her words and Coratel felt her fear more than heard it. He stood up and balanced himself on the well in the center of the tiny shelter. His vision cleared and the world once again came into sharp relief. Walking outside and looking on the ground he saw the small package. At the same time he heard Soren behind him say,

“It’s, It's gone! She… She took it!” Coratel turned back around asking,

“what’s gone? What’d she take?”

“uh, nothing. Two small books is all.” Soren said quietly. Coratel nodded slowly and scratched his chin.

“Well,” he said,

“She left somethin’ too.” He tossed the package at Soren who caught it deftly with one hand. Opening it, Soren was surprised at what she found. Freyyala had left her sandals and the waterskin. The waterskin was completely empty and Soren had remembered Freyyala filling it last night. She must have drunk an entire one before leaving it, Soren thought. Soren put on the sandals, which were a remarkably good fit. Then she uncorked the waterskin, and drew up a bucket of water. Soren splashed twelve drops on the ground. She went out and stood next to Coratel who was scanning the ground everywhere.

“well, looks like she left us some pretty obvious tracks.” He said, pointing at a pair of tracks leading southeasterly around a large dune.

“which mean one of two things.” he continued,

“Either she left fake tracks, doubling back like yesterday. Or, she wants us to follow. Either for your benefit, or because she assumes we can’t keep up with her. If it’s the later, I’m inclined to agree with her.” Soren nodded at this, shouldering the waterskin she said,

“Well, we should follow the tracks either way.” Coratel nodded, then paused as Soren began walking, he said,

“Before we go. You said your name was Soren. I, I heard what Crow told you at the watchfire.” He said,

“Crow?” Soren asked, confused. Her life was becoming stranger by the minute but she couldn’t remember talking to any animals.

“The old woman at the Troupe of Tobas. My mother. She, she had been with the Troupe the longest. To be honest I didn’t know much about her. This way,” He said as they began to follow the tracks in the leeching heat.

“I didn’t see her in your play or at any of the vendors. What her position in the Troupe?” Soren asked,

“Hmm a, dangerous job… she was the fortune teller.” Coratel said quietly. Soren’s mouth fell open. She had talked about a fortune teller but Crow forgot to mention that she herself was a Fortune Teller as well. Any act of reading the future had been strictly banned in Central decades ago. It was considered an evil art by nearly everyone. Though behind a dark tapestry or closed door, many sought the advice and guidance of such people. Still, fortune tellers were as likely to be stabbed as paid, especially if the portents were dark.

“Wow. I guess... I guess that makes sense. How long were you in the Troupe?” Soren asked,

“Don’t change the subject. Who are you? I do not dream, and I certainly don’t dream like that.” He said with a certain amount of venom in his voice. Soren looked down, unsure what to say or how to say it. How could she explain what she was? A freak? A useless dreamer?!

“Let me see your control marks.” Soren said, then blushed realizing what she had just asked. Showing one’s marks was typically reserved for, more intimidate relationships. This was doubly true in the North where the use of Controls was tightly regulated. It wasn’t something people often shared, and certainly not on a whim with strangers. Coratel raised an eyebrow at Soren as she looked down, color suffusing her tanned cheeks.

“alright.” He said in a deep voice, lifting his shirt and then the leather protector over his marks. Soren swallowed and looked up to study the tattoo. She stared for a moment placing the gilded circles. Looking at his tattoo Soren realized Coratel must come from an extremely wealthy family. She assumed the same family as the Troupe but couldn’t be certain. The detail of the tattoo however, left no doubt as to Coratel's importance. It took Soren a moment to realize what she was looking at. The filled in sections of the tattoo bled into one another making an overarching pattern that flowed out of the standard circles and twisted over the rest of the mans large chest. Finally, Soren puzzled it out, he had been born on the middle hour of Zaday. This should have been obvious by the massive size of the man. He was also born on the year of Zabi, no doubt adding to his massive size. She read on, he had been born in the week of earth, in the month of Sera. His Vireo Date, the date changing once every twelve years, was Abiding. What truly struck Soren was how intricate yet varying it all was. While he had a few signs that matched up, giving him added strength overall, it was varied and calculated in a way that Soren couldn’t help but marvel at. Her mind swam with the possibilities of such a control combinations.

“Thank you.” She said, not sure what to say. She’d never seen someone’s Control Markings before. It was an awkward thing, Soren decided. Pausing for only a moment, she shifted her undershirt showing her own Control Marking. She decided that this was infinitely more awkward. Looking at Coratel, who had somehow managed to add more color to his sunburnt cheeks, he thought so too.

Hers was a plain tattoo, simple circles of straight lines, with beaded dots at one point, all in a perfect row. It had been government issued and spoke volumes in its obvious uniformity. Coratel looked at it for only a moment before his eyes widened with surprise.

“Every one? Even your Meridian!” he gasped.

“mmhmm” she confirmed. They had stopped walking and Soren watched apprehensively as Coratel tried to understand what it meant.

“I’ve never seen anyone with every single Control in perfect alignment like that. Its, it shouldn't be possible. But I guess...” He finally trailed off.

“Yeah, they had to do the Meridian Dots one on top of the other. It looks odd right? but it cain’t be that uncommon. I mean sure for Enki, but it happens sometimes right?” Coratel shook his head, a look of amazement plastered across it.

“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Most people try to line up a few signs, maybe a month and a year, or a vireo and a year, something easy to predict, but Soren, your signs are all under the House of Enki, down to the hour and even minute. And your Meridian is in complete alignment! There are only two places in the whole world you could have been born for that to happen!” Soren looked down. She had always known conceptually that her Birthdate was an oddity, but she never suspected it was this odd.

“On top of that, most people try to avoid the house of Enki. It’s a dangerous control. People influenced by his house have been known to simply disappear. Forever. Surely your parents explained how dangerous your control dates are?”

“Mama spoke of it, she helped me with some nightmares I used to have. I think she was planning on telling me more, after my first Vireo. That was the night of the rains.” She began walking again, it was easier to talk about these things while she was walking. Coratel followed next to her, shock was still evident across his large face and looking down at her he said,

“I’m lucky you only influenced my dream as you did. Soren if you wanted, you could have abandoned me in the Dream world. Forever.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked, shocked at the thought.

“Well, I’m just saying… …you probably could.” He said dully,

“Well, if you wanted to, you could crush me!” Soren said looking up at him. Coratel laughed with obvious relief. It was the way of the world, there would always be someone more dangerous, always a bigger fish.

“Soren, don’t show that mark to anyone. Ever. I can show you how to hide it, with dirt or better yet, clay. We will find you something. Most Yunadaya don’t have Control Markings and I doubt many can read them anyway. So you shouldn’t stand out, too much.” Soren nodded saying,

“Is it really that dangerous?”

“I’ve seen many Controls. People in the north make a real hobby of it. Of having children at specific times and in specific places just for this sort of thing. There's even doctors who... Well, its a big deal in the north. Its why the Meridian control maps are so tightly controlled." He was quiet for a while as they walked before eventually continuing. "People would use you Soren. The world is full of people who would try to turn you into a monster, twist you to them if they could, take your power for themselves.” Soren didn’t know what to say to this. She knew next to nothing of the world outside her family’s small farm. She had only been to cottonwood a handful of times in her life and never to the somewhat larger city closest to them, Newton City. Even that city was a small provincial backwater compared with most other cities of the world. The Capitol of Central, TwelvePonts City, was said to be a sprawling metropolis of a number of different cities that had slowly grown together.

They walked on in silence for a while. Freyyala’s tracks had indeed been easy to follow, even in the ever-changing winds of the desert. Soren wasn’t sure where the deep desert began, but somehow, she knew this was not it. While large, the dunes were at their tallest perhaps thirty feet. Soren’s mother told her stories of dunes so large, if you fell off one, you wouldn’t stop rolling for a day. She thought her mother was probably exaggerating. Probably.

Yet she couldn’t help think thirty feet, while very large, wasn’t nearly as big as they got. As they got a late start on the day, the suns were already beginning to set before they had walked more than a few hours. They followed the tracks as best they could. Yet Soren noted the tracks were slowly growing fainter as sand slowly filled in. A sense of urgency entered into both their steps and soon they were jogging at a slow gait into the southern horizon.

By the time the dark reds of the sun Ahriman were set, Soren thought the two had made good progress, though she had no idea where they were going or how far they had to go. A few hours after twilight the two found the second small shack, this time buried to the roof in sand. It was located in a shallow valley of two dunes, each with deep cervices on the other side of them. Where the shelter was located, someone had made a hole in the thatched mud roof and a small rope led down. Soren thought for sure she’d find Freyyala down there. Yet when she looked, all she saw was a nearly dried, empty floor with a well in the center, exactly like the other shelter. Inside it was dark, and Coratel elected himself to descend first.

“Oh kay. Come on.” She heard after he had gone in. Making her way down the rope, Soren once again was assailed by the smell of moisture. It was the wafting of freshly baked bread to the starved. Coratel pulled up the bucket first drinking deeply then washing himself with a second bucket. Soren did the same though maintained her ritual of twelve drops to the gods. She was still unsure what the ritual signified yet something about it gave her a piece of mind. It was the power to deny an urge, she thought. There was something very humbling about taking the time to give thanks to something outside herself, especially when she was so thirsty. Yet at the same time it was empowering to know she could wait. As they sat, backs against the ancient, cool wall of the shelter Coratel said,

“We should probably continue on through the night. I’m afraid were going to lose the trail with these winds.” Soren was actually thinking the same thing, thinking of the quickly disappearing tracks. She was tired and her feet hurt and she was incredibly hungry But she worried if they stopped there would be no knowing where to go next. She knew they weren't even to the Deep Desert yet. She didn't know where they were going only that safety led only forward. She hadn’t eaten anything in days now and she worried she was going to pass out on her feet before they had reached the shelter.

“I don’t think I can go any further tonight.” She finally said. Coratel nodded which Soren couldn’t see in the dark of the shelter. Yet she had seen the dark circles under his eyes as they had walked that day.

“We know we need to head south, right? even without Freyyala’s tracks.” She said,

“how do we know that? And how do you know which way that even is?” Coratel asked. She had heard something like amusement in his tired voice yet, Soren froze. Litaelim had told her not to tell Freyyala or Coratel about her or Soren's dreams. Well, most of that was out in the open now. She wasn’t sure what telling the rest could hurt.

“I got a message, from a Dream-Walker maybe. Or maybe just a powerful dreamer, I don't know but she told me to convince Freyyala to take me with her. She also told me to convince you to come as well.” Coratel didn’t say anything for a moment then said,

“That’s why you were so quick to trust me.”

“yyyes” Soren said slowly then continued,

“I think Freyyala is heading into the deep desert. There’s, a canyon or something, out there. I’m supposed to make my way there as quickly as I can.” Coratel didn’t respond for a long time and Soren began to fidget. Had she done something wrong in telling Coratel? Finally he said,

“I see.” Then he was silent. Silent for so long that Soren began to doze. Just before she had truly fallen asleep Coratel said,

“I’ll stay awake for a while. See if I can’t find something for us to eat out here.” Soren was momentarily alarmed. What if he left her too?

“You won’t leave me?” she asked shakily. Coratel replied and Soren could hear the smile in his voice,

“I won’t leave you. I have a feeling I’m going to need your help as much as you need mine.” Soren heard him stand and begin to climb the rope. At the top, she saw the silhouette of his head as he spoke down to her,

“Unless I get lost. If I’m not back when you wake, follow my tracks and find me.” He said. She nodded then realized he couldn’t see it and said,

“alright.” She laid down and within moments was asleep.

*

She was a small dandelion seedling, floating on a wind through the desert with unabashed freedom. Soren landed atop a dune of immeasurable size. It was night and the stars shown with utter brilliance. As she landed, she realized she was no longer a seedling but a young girl once more. She looked around before seeing the figure behind her making their way up the crest of the dune. It seemed to take no time at all. Then the cloaked figure was next to her. She suddenly realized it was Litaelim.

“Litaelim, please. We’re lost, I tried to follow Freyyala but last night she left. We’ve been following her tracks but I think those are lost to the winds now too.” She said all this without waiting for the old woman to speak. Litaelim removed the hood of her cloak and was quiet for a long moment. She looked at Soren with a strange expression before finally saying,

“That’s unfortunate. It would have made things much easier if you had been able to stay with her. Now I’m afraid it will take you a bit longer. You said we, you are with someone? The man following her perhaps?” Soren nodded saying,

“Yes, Coratel is his name, he’s been helping me.” Litaelim responded.

“Well, better one than none I suppose. I will help where I can. Though my abilities are much diminished around you. Without Frey'yala It will take you some time to get to me. Even with Frey'yala it would take a long time. Still, you should make it here alive and in one piece with or without her. I will try and speak with her again in her dreams. I recommend you do the same if you can. I trust you have been able to find the way-stops?”

“The.... The wells? Two so far. But we haven’t found any food and I think we’re both becoming too weak to continue.” Litaelim smiled at this and waved his hand. A leather bag with straps appeared at his feet.

“Food.” She said in a matter of fact tone.

“One day you will not need this,” she smiled again,

“For now, you will awake with this next to you. Use it wisely, it is not easy even for me, to send this. And I won’t be able to do so again. It should last you the rest of your journey in the desert if you are wise. As far as the way-stops, do not look for one the next two nights, you will not find one. They have been destroyed by sand and time and men. On the third night you should come across another, a grotto. After that, you’ll find another. Do not drink at this next way-stop, it was poisoned long ago. Perhaps I’ll tell you the story someday. After that, there should be a Way-stop every night except the last one.” Soren took his instructions to memory, counting the Way-stops on her hand. As she did, Litaelim looked directly at her saying,

“I must go now. Awake with energy for the new day.”

*

With that he made the same sign with his fingers under her eyes and she awoke to a bright morning in the Way-stop, the hole let the light shine in as an oval brilliance. She heard feet crunching on the sand above her before the light was obscured by Coratel making his way down. He fell the last three feet then rose and turned with a look of surprise across his face,

“I couldn’t find anything worth eating out there.” He said as if they had just paused their conversation from before. He paused and looking at the oversized pack next to Soren said,

“Obviously, you’ve had better luck.” He was smiling and Soren smiled back saying,

“Better than that, I know where to go.”