Appo’s camel moved with unexpected speed, almost at a gallop. With the flat ground and all the extra weight removed, Appo could barely hold on to the saddle. He yipped the camel straight towards the thornestone, riding about ten meters away from the screamers. Suddenly, a chorus of screams erupted from the tree base. Appo counted eight screamers. They gave chase, though their lumbering gait was no match for the camel. Appo forced himself to slow down and give the screamers an opportunity to catch up.
Appo guided the camel about a hundred meters away from the tree, turning around to get a view back towards the stump. The screamers shambled towards him at a variety of speeds. Appo could see their faces now. Most looked as if they had succumbed fairly recently. Besides scratches, all of their skin had blistered and burnt from being out in the open sun.
Appo waited until they got about ten meters away before yipping the camel across the plain. He tried to find a good view of Tomi and Gizzal. They appeared to be close to the stump, but they were moving at a frustratingly slow pace. Appo saw he hadn’t distracted all the screamers, though; the impaled one was reaching out toward Tomi’s camel.
Another yip and another sprint, and Appo moved even farther away from the tree. He was at back towards the hill now, at a very safe distance from the screamers. It was hard to see Tomi and Gizzal, but they must have reached the stump. Appo decided it was probably far enough. He had to think about what was the best way to make it back.
Appo halted the camel and slid off the side, positioning himself away from the sight of the screamers. He grabbed the reins, gently coaxing the camel along. He looked up at the tree again. To Appo’s disbelief, he saw Gizzal’s camel suspended in midair, balanced by a multitude of ropes handled by at least four people from the top of the tree.
A scream shrieked on the other side of the camel. The screamers were much closer than Appo expected, at least twenty meters away. The camel reacted before Appo, moaning in shock. Appo tried to grab the reins, but the camel didn’t listen. It pulled Appo along before he could no longer hold, and he tumbled to the ground.
Appo quickly got to his feet, ignoring the rope burn he just received. He turned around. The screamers weren’t following the camel anymore - they were coming right towards him.
There was no thinking involved. Appo mustered up his best possible sprint towards the massive tree stump. Turns out it wasn’t much. With all the riding Appo had been doing, he forgot it wasn’t too long ago that he had bedridden for almost a fortnight. The best he could do was a labored jog. He was faster than the screamers, but only barely.
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Appo couldn’t look behind him. He didn’t need to. He just needed the screams to push him. They seemed to move at the same pace, but Appo wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. He wasn’t even sure how he expected to scale the thornestone, it wasn’t as if he could climb easily with one arm.
He had to ignore the thoughts. Tomi would have a plan. Hopefully.
But the screamers were getting louder now. Were they getting faster? Was Appo losing speed?
The tree stump loomed even larger as Appo approached. It was at least eight meters high; the cylindrical stump a massive landmark in such a featureless place. Its meter-long stone spikes reminded Appo of giant cacti spines he had seen in other, less arid parts of the desert, but blown up to a magnificent size. The impaled screamer twisted around as much as possible, with black blood coating his mouth and lower tunic.
Appo looked over the stump as he ran around it. The multitude of barbs would have made it an easy climb for anyone with two hands, but Appo wasn’t as fortunate. He didn’t have time to plot his route, and he was exhausted. He would have to make do with what he had.
Before he could attempt to climb, a loop of rope dropped in front of him. It was the saddle that had carried the camel up just before. Appo grabbed onto the rope, which suddenly rose. The loop caught under his legs and yanked him upwards. Appo instinctively kicked his legs as the screams grew louder. As the rope lifted in the air, Appo fell off balance, barely holding on with his good hand and legs while his head swung back towards the ground. Crusted dirty fingernails were but a hand’s length away before being pulled out of reach. The screamers had all caught up to him. They weren’t even moving fast. He was just that slow.
As Appo clung to the rope, someone deftly navigated him through the thorny spikes. Appo looked up, trying to find his rescuers, but could only make out two silhouettes. The rope eventually pulled over the edge of the stump, and Appo allowed himself to fall. It was a short height, but Appo winced as he landed on the tree. It was solid as granite. He caressed his back as he helped himself to his feet.
“I must admit, that wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan.”
Appo was pushed back before he could see the face of his rescuer. He mustered a slight “hey!” before falling into a jutting branch of the thornestone. He felt a thick hand press into his neck, and when he opened his eyes, he realized he was staring directly into the pinpoint of a knife.
“You have ten seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing with my sister.”
Appo summoned the courage to look past the knife and at his captor. It was a boy who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He wore the beige robes of desertfolk, but something was off about his skin. It was patchy and discolored, closer to a pale green. Small growths covered the boy’s cheeks, and the hair of his eyebrows was abnormally sparse. Mucus crusted his eyes, and his nose was thin and sunken in. For a second, Appo was concerned he hadn’t quite escaped the screamers.
Then Appo pieced the picture together. He had never visited their societies, but he knew the descriptions well. Standing in front of him, with a crusted and lesioned hand pressed firmly around his throat, was a leper.