A Drifting Wasteland (Peregrine x DotCom)

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There wasn't the least bit of emotion in his eyes that could be labeled as sexual in nature. He looked far more like a parent looking at a child in the bath than he did a man studying an attractive young woman who was naked before him. All the same, he huffed his acquiescence to her request, even as he ignored her other blabbering. He turned away from her in the small pond, coming to settle just behind the first line of trees. There was a small spot among the foliage which offered him a place to sit, and he took it gratefully, settling down with his back to a moss covered tree.

He would not tell Kaya to hurry up. He knew the healing power of the spring, and it, like sleep, was not something that could be rushed. He knew the way that the water seemed to be capable of soaking into the skin, running through his whole body and flushing out all the gross, dark things that had built up inside. The water seemed impossibly light, and if he positioned himself just right he had discovered it was possible to simply float on the surface, like a leaf or the petals of a flower. This was the place where he would always come, whenever the lickers could find no other targets, and took him as their prize of the day. He hoped it would be able to provide her some of the comfort it had offered him over the years.

It was strange, being back in this place. Scary, in some ways, but also somehow cathartic. He had never wanted to come back. Had never dreamed there would be a situation that would drive him back here. Yet, here he was. Every plant, every rock, every path, every stream, it was all so familiar. He knew it all intimately. Some nights, he still dreamed of this lush land. It would have been impossible to imagine that nothing had changed. That he was still the abused little whelp that had suffered at the hands of the only parents he had ever known. That he was sitting here, cowering, silently begging that the lickers would overlook his dark form in the shadows of the trees, even though he was growing so quickly that it was becoming harder and harder to hide.

Yet it wasn't the same. It was different. Everything was different. The lickers were gone. They had been destroyed. He had destroyed them. He might not have meant to return, but he had. And when he had, he killed them. Not out of vengeance, although he certainly deserved it, but to protect a woman who was about to suffer the same fate as the woman who had born him. It had been for all the right reasons. Now, it felt like some ghost that had haunted his past, that had always hung just above his head, darkening his world even though he couldn't see it, was gone. The squirrels were the most terrifying thing to rule this forest now.

He turned his thoughts away from the past, longing to let those memories slip away, even as he knew they would be with him for the rest of his life. But they no longer haunted him so. He had freed himself from their bonds. It was time to start thinking about the future.

The first thing, of course, was figuring out what to do with Kaya. There was no telling where the voider would spit them out, but as long as he was careful and timed it correctly he would be able to get them out safely. He had done it before. Once that was done, he would help Kaya find a city. At that point they could well be on the opposite end of the world from Riven, but Kaya's pack, her supplies, everything she had, was gone. Riven no longer mattered. All she needed was a city. The people there would take care of her, at least long enough to get her back on her feet. Voider survivors were rare, and, if nothing else, the tales of what was inside would be enough to earn her some clothes, food, and shelter until she was able to... do whatever it was most people did to survive in cities.

He would leave her to that. For a time, he would roam the desert, traveling wherever the wind carried him. It would be familiar and easy. It would give him time to figure out what he wanted to do. Before, survival had always been enough of a goal. But before this point, before guiding Kaya across the desert, he had only known what a purpose was once before. When he had determined that, no matter the consequence, he would escape the lickers, and flee this voider. But he had never before known what it was to have a goal that he wanted to have, that he wanted to complete, and complete well. Now that he knew, he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to go back to simple survival.

Maybe he would find more people. Help them cross the desert. If his time with Kaya had taught him one thing, it was that he was better at hiding among people, acting as one of them, than he would have thought. There were always desperate people. And while he might not approach the cities to find them, there had been more times than he could count where he had seen the traces of people, had known they were approaching a voider, but he had turned to run the other way. Out of fear of the voider. Out of fear of the people.

He would need time to think. To see if he would really dare risk it. But if there was one thing that the desert always provided, it was answers. Kaya had certainly learned a few answers, even if she hadn't known she'd been asking the questions.

Kaya. He felt a small stab of pain. She thought him a monster. Detestable. He could not begin to imagine why she had saved him. Maybe it had been her way of repaying him, since she seemed so obsessed with debt. It certainly hadn't been gratitude. He would get her to a city. Then she could go about forgetting him.
 
The moment he turned his back, Kaya sank deep into the water, letting it close over her head, let the silence take her completely. She shut her eyes and reveled in the darkness as she drifted in a near perfect void, interrupted only by the sound of her heartbeat. It had become a strangely loathsome thing.

She wanted...wanted...God, what did she want? For the first time, in a long time, she didn't know if she wanted anything, and if she did, she didn't know what, or how or where to find it. That alone filled her first with terror, then a grief so deep it felt like apathy -- which was worse than either of the first two combined. It felt like she had been keeping this overwhelming lethargy at bay for years, just by doing, by having something to do, to plan for, to move toward. And now, so close -- maybe -- to Riven, to her goal, she felt nothing, knew, saw, wanted nothing.

It would have been better to be afraid. At least she would know then which direction to run.

Absently, Kaya raked a hand through the tangle of curls and knots her hair had become, then winced when her hand protested the movement. She opened her eyes in the dim blue light of the water and unwound the dirty, pus-covered rag she'd wound around her palm. The cut, wherever it had come from, was hardly visible now beneath amidst the bright red corroded flesh. She stared at it listlessly for a moment before bringing her other hand to the first and scrubbing hard with her thumb. The pain was bright and hot, almost unexpected after the days-long haze of apathetic gray she'd been enveloped in. She'd have screamed outright if she weren't underwater.

Kaya blinked then stared at her hand again and scrubbed again. He had told her to get clean. She remembered that much. He had told her to get clean, and then they would go. She didn't know where, and, she realized slowly, didn't much care. She had thought that meant she'd wanted to die, but even that much would be to want something. Kaya didn't want anything, except to feel, to remind herself that there was something, anything at all beyond the nothing that had consumed her. And this...this gave her beautiful, delicate pain. Sharp as glass and light as air.

It was heavenly.

Kaya allowed herself a small shudder of delight, or utter relief, even as her lungs began to tremble and burn. There was a small, round stone buried in the mud beneath her toes. Her fever would not break until this wound was clean, and she could not do enough with her fingers alone. Feeling finally, truly at peace again, Kaya let herself sink until she was curled comfortable on the sandy bottom of the small pool. She grabbed the rock and began to scrub again.

This time, between the pain and delight and the burning in her lungs and the lightness in her head -- she could not help but gasp, the water immediately lending itself to a new type of torture. But she was not afraid.

He wouldn't let her die.

He had already proven that much.
 
He nearly missed it. It wasn't because he wasn't paying attention to Kaya, he seemed to always be paying attention to her now, whether he wished it or not, but simply because he had never dreamed that he would need to watch her in that way. Her silence while bathing didn't strike him as particularly odd. He imagined she was most likely soaking in that water, relishing a feeling that normally only the very wealthy could obtain in a world starved for water. It took him so long to realize that the silence of the water that greeted him was abnormal that he was nearly too late.

At first he hesitated, when he began to realize that something might be wrong. She had asked him not to look. Shouldn't he respect that? If he looked and she was fine, if she saw him looking, what would she think? Would it once more convince her that he was a monster, driven by sexual need, and not to be trusted? Yet, after a couple agonizing moments, he looked, and he saw her, floating there, facedown in the water. And then it didn't even occur to him to hesitate. He didn't worry about whether or not she might be joking, or simply floating in the water that way because she could. He didn't worry about what she might say if he was wrong. Because, somehow, he knew he wasn't wrong.

The distance between the pool and where he sat vanished in an instant as he threw himself forward, before diving into the water. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, hauling her to the edge of the pool, before dragging her out onto the narrow, grassy shore.

She was limp in his arms, like she was unconscious again. But this time, there was no faint rise and fall of her chest, no slight twitching behind her eyelids to show that life still pulsed through her. She was utterly still. Water dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to get her out of this situation. Whenever she had collapsed out in the desert, it was simply a matter of picking her up and carrying her to somewhere she would be able to rest and recover on her own. But resting wouldn't be enough to recover from this. Her lungs were flooded with water, and she couldn't breathe. Desperately he shook her, trying to get some reaction, trying to wake her up so that she could cough out the water. There was no response. He flipped her on her side, and watched as a little bit more water dribbled out of her mouth.

For a moment he went still. Uncertain. Had he lost her? Was he too late? But, no, if she wasn't breathing, he would simply have to breathe for her. He knew the way the insides of people worked. After all, he'd eaten more than a few in his time. Maybe he would be able to simulate breath.

It was a desperate, clumsy attempt, but apparently it was just enough. He backed away suddenly when she started coughing, nearly falling into the pool in his shock. However, he recovered quickly, and when he did he turned to loom over her, face darkened by a scowl.

"No." He told her. "Bad." He didn't know what else to say, and turned away in a huff.
 
There was nothing, and then there was pain, and cold. A faint edge of fear. And after days of nothing, the fire in her lungs felt like heaven.

She was able to put together what had happened quickly enough. She could remember, unlike the other times she had woken to see him looming over her. She remembered the water and the voider and his waking, and everything -- everything -- that had come before. She remembered wanting to feel clean, or feel anything, really. She remembered trying to scrub clean her hand. And then she remembered...nothing. More nothing.

This time, though, the nothing was stricken through with bright splashes of pain and cold as her body shook itself back to life, her throat and lungs aching even as she greedily sucked in lungfuls of breath as large as she could manage. She tried to roll over and found she couldn't, and instead turned her head, her back arching up off the muddy ground as the coughing racked her body. She was shaking again, couldn't seem to stop, but she didn't mind that so much. As the coughing eased, leaving only the bliss of exhaustion, she shut her eyes, floating on the far edge of consciousness, finally, maybe, able to sleep.

And then he was there again, speaking to her. Only two words, but enough that she looked up at him, her expression one of naked curiosity.

Why did it matter to him what she did now? He was alive. He could claim his prize, or not. Would it matter whether she was conscious, alive? The others had not wanted her moving. Was he so different?

She felt vaguely tempted to ask, but too tired to bother, staring at him for another long moment before settling into the mud, feeling oddly content. She wore next to nothing and wondered briefly if she ought to feel shame, or at least concern, but she could muster neither. Let him look, then. She wasn't saving herself for anyone or anything anymore.
 
He didn't like looking at her like that, all weak and helpless. He didn't like it one bit. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He had spent his entire life living in a world that seemed to actively seek his death. First with the lickers, and now in the desert. He did not know how to care for Kaya. Did not know what she needed to "fix" her. All he could do was get her back to a city, and hope that someone there would be able to make her better.

For never being one who had experienced much gentleness, he lifted Kaya into his arms with an almost surprising display of tenderness. For a moment he stood there, cradling her, reassuring himself that she was still alive. She must be quite used to being in his arms by this point.

He hadn't intended to, but when he finally began to slow down, having drawn close to the location where he would leave the voider with Kaya, he noticed it was the same spot from which he had fled last time. Then, he had not understood how voiders worked. He had not even known what a voider was. All he thought of was the edge, a place that the lickers would not dare go. He did not know what waited on the other side. It was pure luck he had survived, that the voider had not spat him out in the sky with the clouds, or down in the middle of the earth.

Now he knew what waited on the other side. Now he knew how to make sure they emerged safely. He set Kaya down gently by the trees, before staring at her for a moment. She was asleep now, or at least seemed so. But there was no telling when she might decide to do something unpredictable. If she threw herself at the edge, almost certain suicide waited her on the other side, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

For a moment he considered tying her up, but, no, he couldn't do that, either. It was entirely possible that they would only have a few split moments through which they could pass through the edge, before they would have to wait an indefinite amount of time for another opportunity to arrive.

He shook her gently, trying to wake her up, trying to get her to look at him. "Stay," he insisted, rather vigorously. "Stay right here."
 
She woke to him again. That much, she was getting used to. The strange part was that no fear accompanied the waking. The still stranger part was that this did not surprise her.

Of course, she would reason later, when she could reason again, this might have had everything to do with the nearness of the voider's exit to reality -- or what he would teach her to call 'the edge' -- and indeed very little to do with her comfort levels around him. Kaya had never really feared anyone, with a small handful of glaring exceptions from her first journey through the desert. But she knew how to be wary. Especially of people -- beings -- with power. Especially with more power than she. Especially when she wanted that power.

She was not afraid of him. But she knew what he could do.

And yet...seeing him there rather anchored her in the moment. The single remaining constant of weeks that had turned her life inside out, shaking hard as if to loose any remnants, anything real or solid or familiar she might have held onto. It had left him, for better or for worse, an image like an imprint, a silhouette on the insides of her eyelids she could see even without looking. She was always waking, and it was always to him.

She did not know when that had become a comfort.

Less comfortable was the sudden feeling of dread growing in her stomach, as though she'd missed a stair in the dark and was falling now and falling fast. Without meaning to, she made a small sound at the back of her throat, felt her belly tighten as she prepared to run, knowing she couldn't. Wouldn't.

It did not make the feeling better.

"There's...there's one close by," she said dazedly, trying and failing to hold his gaze as her mind swam. That familiar exhaustion was back, the kind that tasted like copper and stuck like fear. The kind she had finally come to associate with...with whatever happened to her when they got too near a voider. Only now they were in the voider, going back out. She had thought that wouldn't matter, but maybe it did.

"Wait," she said suddenly and without meaning to. "Wait, don't...don't go. Not yet. Please. Just...wait."

She didn't know what she wanted him to wait for, only that she wasn't ready for him to go, not with or without her. She knew she couldn't be here anymore, even if this place was better than the desert, more predictable and safer now, she couldn't sleep here. She couldn't be here, where food tasted like dirt and every sound was maybe another long, sticky tongue wrapped around her bare midriff --

But the last time she had passed through one of those...openings to another world, she had woken to bodies swarming over her like maggots. And she could not forget that either.

"You...you have to stay," Kaya commanded vaguely. It was getting harder to focus, making her words sound funny and far off. She would not be able to stay long in this place either way. She did not, could not trust him, not yet. But even this was better than being alone.

"D-don't leave me," she said finally. There was a ringing in her ears, half compelling her to run, to ease the feeling of terror in her stomach. She pulled her chest to her knees without thinking. She couldn't think anymore. She couldn't remember what she'd been asking him -- him? -- or why, except those last words over and over again.

"Don't...okay? Don't...don't leave me. It's...it's bad here. Don't leave me."
 
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He didn't know what to make of her words. Kaya had always talked a lot, and he had only ever really halfway understood what she said. But now... now he couldn't make sense of any of it. At first he thought she thought he was going to leave her behind. That his request for her to not move had been a request for her to remain in the voider while he left. For a moment he was hurt again. Not only did she think him a sex-crazed monster, she thought him cruel and heartless. But then she kept talking, and he lost her. He couldn't believe she was saying she wanted to stay here with him. There was no way that was what she meant. Not when fear was rolling off her like waves.

The only thing he could conclude was that it was the madness. Kaya's madness, which gripped her whenever she came too close to the edge of a voider, was causing her to babble. She was stringing words together, and they made sense individually, but they did not make sense when it all came together. He reached out, gently stroking her tangled mass of hair under his large, rough palm. "Shhh," he calmed gently. "It's okay."

He stayed like that until her babbling ceased, until it seemed that she was asleep again. He hadn't really gotten what he wanted from that, but at least now he was relatively sure that Kaya wasn't going to race off into the edge while he wasn't paying attention. Most likely she wouldn't move an inch until he picked her up again, and started carrying her away from this place. He would have to assume as much. Right now he needed to focus his mind on the task at hand.

And so, he began his delicate, deadly flirt with the edge. It was harder going out than it was going in. On the outside, the line between the real world and the voider was so gradual. It was possible to see hints of what would be waiting in a voider long, long before he was anywhere near crossing the line that couldn't be uncrossed. But, from the inside, the line was sharp and almost aggressively crisp. Only one faint twitch wrong, and he would go spiraling over the edge and back into the real world, wherever that might dump him.

For well over three hours, he maintained that dangerous dance, darting out so far that he was nearly tipping over the edge, only to come back in moments later, with nothing but the sight of dark earth filling his vision. He would then pause for a minute, sitting down with Kaya, close to her but never actually touching, before rising again to repeat the process. It was exhausting, straining work, and as the shadows began to move he found his hands start to shake whenever he gave himself a moment to sit down from the rush of his blood and the pumping of his heart. As it continued, he found himself longing to rest, to give it up for a little while and allow himself to recover. There was nothing dangerous here. Not anymore.

But all he had to do was glance over at Kaya, and a new burst of motivation would fill him, even if it did nothing to quell his shaking. He had to get her out of here. He had to get them both out of here. It might look beautiful, but this place was nothing short of toxic.

When at last his venture out to the edge brought him back a glimpse of light, he didn't hesitate. He bolted back inside, scooping Kaya up and throwing her over his shoulder. "Time to go," he added, rather unnecessarily, before turning around and bolting back out.

Even in the few brief seconds it had taken him to race back and grab Kaya, the voider had already lifted a dozen feet away from the ground. He yelped slightly as the ground gave out from underneath him, and he found himself falling.

He landed heavily, painfully, having rolled suddenly to the side to try and protect Kaya as much as he could from the fall. Sand and dirt filled his mouth, and a rib flared with pain in his side. For a moment he wondered idly if it was broken, before glancing up. He squinted slightly in confusion, as something dark and massive began to resolve through the cloud of dust that had risen from their fall. As it began to settle, he was finally able to distinguish what he was looking at. It was the walls of a city.

Suddenly shocked and more than a touch afraid, he rolled out from under Kaya, before pushing himself to his feet. "There," he said shortly. "You're here." He hadn't intended to make it sound purposeful on his part, yet it somehow came out like that anyways.
 
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For hours, or maybe days or years, Kaya floated on the edge of consciousness as the two of them floated on the edge of reality. She wouldn't have been able to suss out what exactly he was doing, what he was waiting on even if she'd been lucid, and in that moment, she was far from it. She felt shudders come and go and maybe lost consciousness a few times. She could hardly remember anymore where she was or where they were going.

But he stayed. Not just in the voider, not just beside her, hovering on the edge of her awareness like a shadow she could only just barely see. He stayed in her mind, her memory, and she knew him even when she couldn't find herself. He stayed, and so she didn't panic, didn't try to run whenever she felt the fear rolling over her anew. Even when, half conscious, she felt him grab her and tumble into the darkness, felt the earth fall away from beneath their feet, he stayed and she made herself remember who he was, taking breaths as deep and even as she was able.

She felt the earth -- the real earth -- drive the air from her lungs all at once, and even before she had opened her eyes, she knew they were back in the desert. After the sticky warmth of the air in the jungle, this felt harsh, almost painful. But it was familiar, too. It felt, tasted like home. She knew all too well how easy it would be for another voider to take them from here, but she couldn't make herself care. They were back. The dead creatures, almost all of them, were gone.

She rolled over, moaning quietly in her half sleep, almost content to let herself fall away again, when he moved away from her. The movement startled her, though not for any reason she'd have guessed. She heard him shift away and began speaking and immediately began clawing her way back to lucidity before she'd even heard what he said.

"What?" she asked blankly. "What now? Where're we going?"

It was only then she processed his words, blearily followed his gaze to the mass on the horizon, staring with an expression somewhere between fatigue and confusion. It was several moments before she spoke, her voice hollow.

"That's...we're here? Riven? That's it?" she said in utter disbelief. He had no reason to lie to her, except to try and get rid of her, which she supposed she would understand. She hadn't been easy for him, and she had long since lost his pay. He had hardly wanted to come in the beginning, and that was before the spastic episodes, and the stranger voiders. Before he'd nearly died defending her -- or stealing her -- from those things. It wasn't as if their, or rather her destination really mattered anymore. She had wanted to travel to Riven because it was a large city with a larger consumer base. But she had nothing to sell now, and even less of a desire to do so.

Again the question loomed, huge and daunting, over her head like a knife ready to fall. What did she want? Where was she going? What next?

There was a sudden, inexplicable urge to go back to sleep. Things were easier in sleep. She had no decisions to make there. And she was suddenly certain that if she laid down her, he would carry her. Maybe to the city gates, or maybe to another shelter. The destination didn't matter. She could rest for a bit longer, avoid her fate for another night. Let him decide. Let him protect...

Kaya realized what she was thinking with a shudder and folded her arms around her bare stomach again, blushing. After a moment, she made herself get to her feet, her back to him as she faced the city.

"What will you do?"

She hadn't meant to ask that. She had wanted to ask how far it was to the city, whether they would need to rest another night in the desert, or if she could go there, now. She didn't know what she would do when she was inside. She had nothing to pay with, nothing to live for. But she had something large in front of her, something to move toward. Another goal, no matter how temporary. She'd wanted to ask what it would take to get there, hoping for minutes and years at the same time.

Instead...she had asked after him. And she no longer had the energy to question why.
 
For a moment he simply stared at her in silence, uncertain what to say. What did she expect from him? He had thought he understood her, and understood her well. Now it was as though he barely knew her anymore. What did she want from him? What did she expect? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that she was finally to a city, although he had no idea whether or not it was Riven, and now she could get away from him and go about forgetting those memories.

But first she had to leave, and apparently that required an answer on his part. Once again, he was left wondering, why did she care?

Luckily, the need to find a satisfactory answer was quickly removed, as he noticed two figures suddenly rushing out through the gates. One of them had a gun in hand, while the other seemed to be holding... he couldn't tell what from this distance. He wouldn't be staying long enough to find out.

"Time for me to go," he told her, rather softly. He was surprised to realize he would miss her. She had taught him a lot. She may have even changed his life. But he also knew that the guards who were coming to rescue the voider survivors would not take kindly to his appearance, and that meant that he had to be far away by the time they reached Kaya. There was no more time to delay. "Stay safe."

He turned around quickly, turning to race off into the desert. There was a set of hills not far on the horizon, which would give him the opportunity to make sure that the guards took Kaya into the city, and that she was safe. He would rest there until the sun dipped a little lower in the sky, and then be on his way.
 
Amos Gladwell was a Meeros city guard. Just like his father, and his father's father, and his father's mother, and all three of his father's father's brothers. Just like his own brother, and his eldest son, and just like his first grandchild was training to be. The Gladwells formed a long, proud line of city guards, stretching back as far as any of them could remember. A favorite family supper past time was coming up with increasingly strange and unbelievable stories about life on the edges of the desert. Meeros numbered among one of the largest and oldest cities in the desert, and it had not obtained such a status by being so impregnable as to be swallowed up when any old voider drifted close. But it did draw its fair amount of attention, both from weary travelers and denizens of the desert itself.

On that day, on the day both the latter and former appeared from a rip in the cloudless sky, Amos Gladwell claimed himself a story to rival them all.

He'd been standing there in the shadow of the city gates, his helmet tucked under his arm, his balding head flushed red from the heat of the day. It had been warm, uncharacteristically warm, even for a desert these last few days. He taunted his young trainee, a scrap of a boy named Thomas, endlessly when he complained the heat made him dizzy and tired, but in reality, Amos was trying not to fall asleep himself when the boy ran up to him, eyes wide as the moon on a clear night.

"Something's happening," he blurted, pointing to the near horizon where a plume of dust settled to reveal...two figure who had most certainly been nowhere on the horizon before. Amos leapt to his feet at once. Visitors to Meeros were not exactly rare...but most of the time, they traveled in caravans large enough to be seen coming for hours, if not days. Two travelers alone? Unless it was an escort pair -- and none were supposed to be coming through today -- he could not guess who they were or where they might have come from.

"They fell from the sky," said Thomas, his tone one of equal parts awe and unease. "Do you think...do you think it was -- "

"Don't be ridiculous, boy," Amos snapped. "No one survives the voiders. Not hardly ever, anyway."

It was true enough. Forty-four years watching the desert hills roll and he'd never once witnessed a voider survivor with his own eyes, let alone seeing one just fall from the sky. And yet...it was clear even from here the two figures were disoriented, seeming stricken by the vastness of the desert around them. They had not walked up, even Amos would have seen them coming some time ago.

"What do you think -- " started the boy, but he was able to get no further when one of the figures, a tall spindly thing, broke away from the second and began to move -- away from the city, into the bluffs on the horizon.

"Hey!" Amos cried, immediately giving chase with no real reason, save for the fact that people did not just appear outside of city gates only to run from them a moment later. Especially not as quickly as that strange figure, with proportions like no human he had ever seen.

"You there!" he shouted, and if either figure heard, they gave no clear indication. For an older gentleman, Amos was fit, but he still had a distance to go before he reached even the second figure, who had not yet moved save to waver somewhat in the shimmer of heat rising from the sand.

"Stop! Who are you?" demanded Thomas, who was even now passing up his mentor, in a much stronger voice. "Where did you come from? Do you need help?"

The two city guards ran on another two minutes in silence, the second figure growing clearer even as the first faded to a speck on the horizon.

The second was a young woman. It would have been clear from her stature alone...but it was her near nudity that painted the boldest picture. Amos would have guessed she wasn't much older than his youngest daughter, twenty-three, twenty-four if a day. He glanced aside to Thomas and would have laughed at the obvious flush on the boys face any other day. Now, he could feel concern warring curiosity in his belly.

That something had happened was evident. They stopped a ways from her at Amos's silent suggestion. The girl stood alone, staring off into the desert, presumably after her lost mate, wearing little more than muddy scraps of cloth. It was clear from the darkness of her skin she had been wandering the desert for several days, though she did not appear too badly burned, as some other new arrivals had before her. Her skin was dappled here and there with cuts, bruises, dirt and...blood?

And she was speaking. Quietly, as if to no one at all. He couldn't make out her words, but he heard her speaking. Concern found its way to the top abruptly.

"Jesus," Amos swore softly, quickly reaching out to stop Thomas, who had raised his gun after the retreating figure.

"Gently now, boy," he said. "You...watch for that thing to come back."

Thomas nodded, eyes wide. "Thing? You don't think -- it wasn't...from the voider? With her?"

Amos shook his head. "Don't rightly know what it was, boy, but it's spat her out, thank the stars. Still. Heard stories about what happens inside one of them. If that's where she came from...move softly. Now, you stay here. And don't lower that gun until I tell you."

Thomas nodded, turning his eyes back to the horizon, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on the girl's bare back.

Amos instead moved forward, slowly, until he could hear what she was saying, whispering almost like a prayer: "Don't go...don't go...don't go..."

"Miss?"

The girl jumped so high, Amos considered she might be some sort of desert creature herself for half a minute. Until she looked at him, her expression a stunning combination of suspicion, fear, anger, and impatience. Her green eyes looked fever bright against the sun-tanned brown of her skin.

"Who...who are you?" she demanded -- and it was most certainly a demand, even meekly given. He could hear it there beneath the tremor in her voice, perhaps a shadow of who she had been before the desert had leeched it from her.

Amos gave his best grandfatherly smile and held up both hands in supplication, slipping the short blade he carried with him down a sleeve as he did.

"It's alright, child," he said soothingly. "You're safe now. Come. We'll take you in. Are you here alone?" He hoped his tone hid his real question: What was that thing with you? Was it human? Why did it run?

The girl looked askance at him, suspicion growing on her face. She looked at him as though she thought he might disappear or explode any moment.

"No," she said quickly. "I...my guide..." Then she trailed off like she'd forgotten what it was she was going to say about her guide. For just a moment, she seemed to forget he was there, turning to look over her shoulder. The second figure was gone.

She murmured something under his breath and he took the opportunity to move a bit closer.

"What was that, love?" he pushed.

"He...he left," she said again, though it was clear she wasn't speaking to him. "He wasn't...there was still more, I have his...his money. I thought..." She turned around abruptly, facing him once more, though her expression was less suspicious, more desperate.

"Is this Riven? I'm supposed to go to Riven?"

Amos looked taken aback. "Riven? No, child, Riven is at least a fortnight's trip east of here. Is that where your...guide said he was taking you?"

Again, the girl didn't seem to hear. Her shoulders dropped, and she wrapped thin arms around her bare stomach. That she was near nude seemed not to bother her at all. He wondered how long she had been like that.

"We...we passed it. Or we went the wrong way," she muttered to herself. "He didn't finish the deal, his end. He said -- I was to pay him...for Riven..."

Amos studied her for a moment, then stepped a bit closer. "What's your name, child?"

"He wasn't supposed to leave yet. Not yet."

"Did he...did you come from a voider?"

She looked up abruptly at the word, and then her expression was just desperate, but nakedly afraid.

"Get away," she hissed suddenly, dropping into a crouch almost on instinct. "Don't you touch me. Get away. Go away." She looked over her shoulder again, as if weighing some decision he could not see. Then, abruptly, all at once, she turned and bolted.

Amos stared, flabbergasted for a minute, before running after her. Thomas followed behind, still holding the gun.

The girl was smaller than both of them, but she had been in the desert too long. Her feet were bare on the burning sand, and it was clear exhaustion had long since become the norm. She didn't make it more than a few yards before Thomas caught up, throwing his weight around her before twisting in the air to cushion the impact against his leather armor, his face still burning.

The girl, meanwhile, had become like a wild animal, kicking screaming, biting in such a way that Amos could only guess what might have happened in the voider with the thing that had left her behind. Perhaps that was why it had bolted? She called it 'he', like he was a friend, and was clearly distraught as his disappearance...and yet what reason could a normal human have to run into the desert?

Amos stared at the horizon, searching for answers, even as his young assistance struggled with the girl. But she was more tired than she had realized, or at least more tired than she was afraid. In under a minute, her struggles weakened, then ceased altogether. Amos looked off one more time before dropping to his knees beside a still-blushing Thomas, who held the unconscious girl in his lap.

"Sh-she's...fever," he stammered, seeming unable to look at her.

Amos nodded gravely. "Yes, well, I imagine the trip through the...whatever it was will have done that. Come on. We'll get no answers from her today. Can you carry her?"

Thomas nodded and stood gingerly. Amos took his gun. The two retreated to the city, the girl in tow.

Amos was already imagining his next family dinner.
 
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He didn't stop running until he reached the bluff, where he threw himself down into the sand, skidding to a halt even as it would look like he had vanished over the other side. For a moment he lay there, panting slightly, even as he crawled back up to the top to peer towards Kaya and the city.

What he saw nearly sent him running back. The guards were attacking her. Only, a few desperate seconds later, he realized that, no, they were only trying to restrain her, to keep her from running away. They weren't hurting her, or trying to kill her. Most likely, all they wanted to do was take her back to the city. Indeed, moments later Kaya's ability to continue to struggle failed, and she was lifted into the arms of one of the guards, who turned to carry her back towards the city.

He supposed he couldn't really blame Kaya for trying to flee. How long had it been since she'd been around people. And the last time someone other than him had come at her, she had ended up in a situation that no one should ever have to suffer. No matter that the lickers had been anything but human.

It would do her good to get back to civilization. She would be able to heal there, and let go of the paranoia that naturally imbued those who spent too long in the desert. This was good. He continued to tell himself that, even though he remained exactly where he was long after Kaya and the guards had disappeared back behind the city walls. He lay there, and watched, and tried not to feel too sad about how they had parted. She belonged with people, and he... well, he didn't know exactly where he belonged, but it certainly wasn't behind walls.

Finally, when he could feel the heat of the sun beating down on his bare back and he knew it was time for him to start seeking shelter, he was able to force his way to his feet. Forcefully turning his back on the city, he began to walk away.

He ended up resting much later into the afternoon than he had intended, in a small hole dug into the shady side of a dune. As the sun began to dip down from its high point, he began to think about moving. Yet every time he actually got close to getting up, he found himself unable to complete the motion. Somehow, he simply lacked the motivation. He told himself that it was fine. He deserved the rest, after all the effort he had poured into getting both himself and Kaya out of that voider. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, from having to take care of Kaya for so long. He had just sustained massive injuries, and even though he had gotten enough food to heal, he hadn't been eating properly before that, because he needed to spend most of his time gathering food for Kaya.

Of course he was weak. Of course he didn't want to move. What was more, he deserved the rest. He kept telling himself that until it started to feel true, and lay limply in that pit until the sun was almost touching the horizon. Even at that point, only the knowledge that he should not sleep so close to the city in such an exposed location got him up and moving again.

He didn't make it very far before he felt the wind begin to blow, lifting up grains of sand and flinging them violently against his back. When he looked up, it didn't take much effort to spot the sandstorm on the horizon. He tried to ignore the feeling that it was almost a relief to see it. That it would force him to stop for a little while. Instead of thinking about that, he devoted himself to finding proper shelter to wait out the storm.

There were no natural edifices in the area to grant him refuge. It was always that way around cities. While things coming from the desert were rare enough, anything large enough to offer protection was still removed, so that nothing would be able to use it as cover to approach the city. Anything coming from the desert could be seen for hours, if not even days, off. But, just as he was starting to worry that he would have to bury himself in the sand like a lizard, he saw the tattered remains of a tarp, mostly embedded in the sand, flapping about in the strengthening wind. A little bit of digging began to reveal the shape of a wagon. A lot more digging granted him access to the interior, which he began to work on clearing even as the sand closed it in once more.

It was an old merchant's wagon, still nearly entirely full of food, water, and merchandise. Most likely it had come from the city he had just fled, before becoming damaged or otherwise immovable. By the time people were able to return to try and clear it out, the sand had already swallowed it. There were lots of hidden treasures like this buried in the desert, most of which would never be discovered. This particular one had enough food and water to last him several days, even though everything was covered in sand. That had never bothered him before, and he wasn't about to let it bother him now.

He ate a little bit, navigating entirely by touch in the pitch black interior of the buried wagon, before he once more felt his motivation begin to fail. He lay down right were he sat, shifting slightly to create a depression in the remaining sand. It was so dark that it was impossible to tell when his eyes were open and when they were closed. It was impossible to tell when he was awake or asleep.

He'd dig himself out in the morning.
 
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For three days, the storm waged war against the impassive city gates. For three days, the girl who had stumbled out of the desert in tattered rags alternately slept and raged and slept again. For three days, Meeros seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one thing or the other to give. And for three days, the city seemed to watch the girl and storm both, wondering which would give the answers when they came.

The first day had been everything like what other long travelers had taught them to expect. She had shown up at the city's largest, if most crowded inn, its first and oldest establishment half a mile from the main gate, carried almost squeamishly by Amos Gladwell's flustered apprentice. The old vet himself looked somewhat shaken, though the excitement was clearer on his face.

"Got another one, Anna," he called out as he stepped into the inn's large communal space. A handful of locals and visitors -- mostly merchants now trapped by the storm -- turned to look, their expressions at once arranging themselves from bewildered curiosity, to stunned outrage, presumably at the girl's state of dress.

"Again?" said a dark-haired young woman from behind the bar, sounding put off, though she rose on her toes to see the newcomer.

"Seeking shelter from the storm, I'd imagine," said a portly woman with graying hair as she stepped out from behind said bar, wiping calloused hands on a damp rag. "This one's been kicking up for a time now. My knees have been hollering from three days back. How many in this party?"

Amos fought to keep a straight face. "Just the one. Pretty girl, though she can't be much older than Eleanor here." The girl behind the bar went pink at having been caught squinting at the girl from the desert and immediately went back to drying glasses.

The portly woman, presumably Anna, drew near, frowning. She beckoned with a hand, without looking, and three men cleared from a long table at the back of the room. One stood, whipped off his coat, and spread it across the table.

"Go on, boy," Anna said, peering at the girl from the voider. "Set her down. Gently, now, the poor lass won't have had it easy."

Thomas did as he was told, laying the girl down upon the coat with a surprising amount of care. Anna followed close behind, pulling off her apron to cover the girl for a bit of privacy. Not that it would do much good now. The entire taproom had fallen quiet, all eyes upon the back corner and Amos Gladwell's most recent find.

Anna paid them no mind. The silence seemed to settle, then swell a moment, and the girl relaxed just a bit, a soft utterance on her lips. It sounded like, "Don't go."

Anna felt a rush of compassion. "The poor child," she murmured. "You found her out there by herself?"

Amos smiled proudly, though the grin was tempered with the appropriate amount of somber pity. "Aye. Thomas here says he saw her fall from the sky. From a voider, most like."

"And there was another with her!" Thomas blurted suddenly. "From the voider, only...only they weren't built like no man."

Anna's blue eyes snapped first to the boy, then Amos, equal parts suspicious and concerned. Then she looked back to the girl, frowning.

"Well, in any case, it's clear she'll need a place to stay, at least for a time. New clothes, as well. And probably a bath," she added after a moment's thought. "Poor thing is more dirt than girl."

Still holding the damp rag in her hand, she reached out gently and drew it across the girl's bare belly, hoping to wipe away a bit of sand and get at the person beneath. The touch, she'd thought, was feather light, but something in the touch, or the damp, or the girl herself, or perhaps all three set off some sort of alarm. At once, she came awake, her eyes flitting nervously about, all without quiet seeing anything. Thomas looked at Amos, and Amos now to Anna, whose face was first a grim mask of determination...and then immediately a gentle, maternal smile.

"It's alright, child," she started, setting one hand upon the girl's knee. "You're safe now. Do you -- "

"Get off of me," the girl snarled, sounding more animal than human. Fever-bright eyes fastened upon the hand on her knee and too late Anna noticed and pulled away.

"You're alright, lass!" Amos tried, moving a bit so she could see him, perhaps recognize him from their brief time together in the sand. If she did recognize him, she showed no sign of it. In fact, she showed no sign of having really seen him at all. The girl looked around, almost certainly searching for something or someone, though none of them could begin to guess who.

When she didn't find it, her face crumpled and manic fear took hold.

"Get away from me!" she screamed again. "All of you, back! Don't touch me, now, I'm warning you, I'll -- I've got...there's poison! In my bloodstream, in my stomach, if you try anything, it will kill you, I will kill you!" Thomas moved forward to steady her and she lurched away, losing her balance and crashing to the floor.

Looking up at them, her face twisted into a mask of terror and she began to scuttle away on hands and feet, unwilling to take her eyes off any of them. Anna once more felt her heart flood with sympathy, but when she started toward the girl, she only screamed again and pulled away faster. By now, everyone in the taproom, and nearly half of the inn guests had come to watch in mingled awe and concern. In the end, they found their solution quite by accident. Eight of the town's men -- five of them city guards -- took up places in front of the kitchen, the entrance, the stairs, and any other places likely to get the girl in trouble if she tried to flee. A man who suffered from perpetual dust allergies and thus often wore his face swathed in any number of clothes and linens cornered her in an effort to keep the voider girl away from recently broken glass.

When she saw him, she appeared to freeze, uncertain, for a moment. She blinked, swayed on her feet, then nodded.

"D-don't go," she whimpered. "Don't go."

The strength went out of her all at once, and the tension even faster. She collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and the townspeople surged forward, though none of them seemed to know quite what to do with her. In the end, it was a woman named Liana, a quiet and severe woman who had six months ago, lost a son near the girl's age to a voider en route from the city, who stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a shawl.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently, once the girl had settled a bit. "Are you all going to watch me? If you want her story, this is the way to get it. Dead girls tell no tales."

The amassed crowd stared a moment longer before two men stepped forward to help carry the girl to an empty room upstairs. Another woman disappeared to her room and returned with clean clothes; two more rushed off to boil water, and a third worked on heating a thing broth. Within the hour, the girl was sleeping fitfully in a quiet room on her own. And all she could seem to say, even half asleep, was, "Don't go, don't go, don't go..."

By the black noon of the second day, the storm had reached its peak, raging across the desert like a beast caught in the grip of utter madness. A mother seeking a lost child, thought Liana, as she and the other women watched over the desert girl. She seemed to be tangled in a mad web all her own, to hear her screaming and raging to herself, and more than once, Peggy or Lettie suggested that perhaps they ought to let the girl go. First in jest, than in half superstitious whispers. She still shied violently from touching, bucking away or fighting back if ever she felt too many hands on her. It wasn't natural behavior, and more than that, it spoke of dark things the women would rather not think on.

"Come now, Liana, when's the last time it stormed like this? The poor thing won't know the difference between a bed of feathers and a bed of sand at this rate. Maybe the desert's only waiting to take her back," said Peggy.

"And she, back to it," added Lettie, crossing herself. "She could well bear the storm's wicked child."

"Nonsense," snapped Liana, without looking at either woman. "We've seen worse in from out there before. I won't go putting the child out in the rain just because you two've gone and got yourself spooked. You've been listening to Amos's stories, haven't you?"

"He was the one saw her fall out of the sky with a demon in tow!" insisted Peggy. "All's I'm saying, perhaps the demon wants her back."

"Then the demon can come get her once she's had something to eat," came the prim reply. "She's just a girl no older than your Bekah, Peg. And anyway, if anyone's to be going anywhere, it ought to be their choice, not ours. The girl stays. At least until she's on her feet. Now, are you going to help me break the fever, or will I be dragging her to the bathhouse on my own?"

The other two women watched each other, then went along with a grumbled, towels and clean clothes and bandages tucked under their arms. But it was Liana who stayed up half the night, tending to the girl when she began to scream again, offering whatever water and broth she could when the child seemed half lucid, offering soft words when it seemed food was too much to hand. And so, naturally, it was Liana who noticed the desert girl seemed more soothed by silence than by song. And sometimes by gentle fingers stroking her cropped hair.

It happened, then, that the third day was finally, blessedly quiet, much like the storm itself. At the far edges of the tempest, all nature seemed to tread quietly, perhaps out of exhaustion or respect, or just a healthy fear that the wind and rain would return. It was as if the earth itself had retreated in sheepish acknowledgment of its 3-day tantrum and now sat quietly introspective. The desert was filled with a strange sort of mist, too warm for fog, too light for rain. The wind still blew, but the wet kept the sand pinned mostly to the ground. Save for the quiet whistle of the breeze, the desert seemed almost too quiet after the night before.

The girl appeared near comatose after her own showings of the last two days, and presented no signs of waking until late afternoon on the third day. That the fever had broken was clear from the sheen of perspiration soaked into her hair. Liana stayed dutifully by the girl's bedside, bathing her gently when true exhaustion seemed at last to have claimed her. She spent nearly an hour cleaning and clipping gnarled brown ringlets into soft, short waves that hugged the girl's scalp. Small scratches and cuts were cleaned and bandaged; something sturdier went around the girl's hand. Then, at last, left with nothing but a jug of water and a soft white tunic, the town turn aside to let the girl from the desert wake in peace.

And two hours after sunset on the day the storm died, she did.
 
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He slept for an indefinite amount of time, buried in that dark little hole within the wagon. When he woke there was no telling how much time had passed. For a moment after he woke he had sat on the edge of panic, wondering if he had gone blind, before his knee had struck the edge of the wagon. Then he remembered where he was. He took time to eat and drink, before moving towards the edge of the wagon and starting to dig his way out.

Sand had long since covered the top of the wagon, but he did not panic. It was not unexpected for the height of the land to change during a storm like that. He kept digging until his hand broke the surface, and a shower of sand poured down the hole into the wagon.

He was immediately greeted by a blast of wind to the face, and more sand pouring in the hole, dropping out of the sky like rain. He quickly retreated, packing the hole back full of the sand he had dug out, and then strengthening the wall with some of the dirt he had not yet cleared from the wagon. He didn't know how long he had slept, or how much longer the storm would rage on. At the moment, it didn't really matter. He still had plenty of food and water, and with as little as he was moving it would last him for quite some time. He went back to sleep.

He woke four more times. Each time he ate and drank, before slowly digging his way back to the surface, unable to tell how much time had passed. Each time, the storm greeted him, which brought a mixed wave of relief and frustration. He did not know whether he was simply sleeping in short fits and spurts, or if the storm was simply a particularly fearsome one. He had seen sandstorms that would last for days. Or he might have simply gotten tired of sleeping.

But the storm did end eventually, just as he had known it would. One time his hand broke the surface, and he was greeted by nothing but a peaceful, still silence, and the hot glare of the sun. He shied away from it, whimpering slightly in pain as his eyes teared up at the brightness. He retreated back down, but left the hole open. A few faint beams of sunshine followed him down, casting a little bit of light on the inside of the space.

He was finally able to see the inside of his wagon. He had come to think of it as his, anyways, despite the fact that the desert had far more claim to it than he did. What greeted him was a bit of a surprise. He had known the place was full of food and water, but he had not realized exactly how much. He stared in awe at the trove that greeted him. It must have been a great blow to the merchant or family that had lost this, but it was obvious that the desert had claimed this quite some time ago. All the moisture had been leached out of the food, leaving it dry and dusty, but packed with rich flavor. The water tasted like the hide it was stored in, but very little of it had managed to escape its holdings.

He had intended to leave after the storm had ended, but the sight of so much food held him in place. There was no sense in rushing away from such a bounty. He settled back down with some relief, ate a bit more, slept for a bit longer, before starting to widen the little tunnel to something that would be more appropriate for his new home, however temporary it might be. He would stay for a couple days, pack himself full of food and water, so that if the desert was cruel to him in the first few days, he would not want.

But sleep eluded him now. Perhaps the light was a reminder that he was not meant to lay still indefinitely in the darkness, or perhaps the aching of his stiffening body drove him out to move around for a little while. Either way, shortly after leaving his burrow, he came across a road. The hard packed earth now rested a solid several inches above the sandy ground, and it was impossible to miss. It was equally possible to see the entrance to his burrow from the road. Growling his frustration at the discovery he turned away from the road. His temporary home was in a little depression in the sand, hiding the road in both directions. He recognized the hills that hid the view of the city from him.

He would have to keep watch. There was about an hours worth of view towards the city, and much more away from it. That would give him plenty of notice if someone was watching. Most people would have the sense not to stick their head into an ominous looking hole in the middle of the desert, no matter how close they were to a city.

Yet he soon found himself watching the city almost compulsively, laying stretched out on the edge of the dune with his eyes locked to the gate, panting slightly under the heat of the sun and only moving to occasionally go fetch some more water. Every time the gate opened to allow for the rotation of the guards he felt his heart leap and his gut twist. He did not know why he was so afraid. He could be gone long before anyone got here, even if it would be a shame to leave the food behind.

He watched long after the sun fell, as the city bloomed with artificial light sticking out of the sand like a beacon. He told himself it was pointless to keep watching. No one would leave the city in the middle of the night. He should return to his little burrow, and wait for the sun to start to rise. That would be when most people would be most likely to leave. Yet still he lay there. It wasn't until he fell asleep on that dune, only to suddenly wake himself up with a start, that he finally peeled himself off the sand and returned to his wagon.

He told himself he wouldn't repeat the process tomorrow.
 
Though it took her less than an hour after waking up to realize she didn't want to die, it took her nearly another day and a half to figure out what she did want -- and she still wasn't quite sure what that was -- had nothing to do with the city. Not Meeros. Not Crolis. Not even Riven. She had feared the desert and everything it held for nearly her whole life. These people who had most recently rescued her from its grasp told her she had dreamt of it, had vivid fever dreams that said it had all but drained the life from her, and the hollowness in her belly when she thought of what she had to do told her they were right. She was afraid to go back out there. And yet even the fear became quickly more desirable than the apathy, the uncertainty, and the frank boredom that accompanied city life.

By nightfall on the day she had woken, Kaya knew she needed to move. The where didn't matter, only that she did. By noon the next day, she had decided how it was going to happen. And when dawn began to peak across the sky on what would be the sixth day after she'd left the voider, Kaya once more stood at the gates of Meeros, peering into the desert, sleepy, terrified, and determined. Fear had never stopped her before. She was not about to let it do so now.

--

She'd known from the moment she'd woken that she had something important to do. Frustratingly, she did not know what.

It did not put her in a good mood.

Fortunately, her weeks in the desert, her days in the voider, the nights of the storm -- all had left her week as a kitten. Naturally, Kaya found this intolerable, and quickly made plans, before she had even opened her eyes, to resolve the issue of her health. That she was making plans at all again didn't immediately occur to her.

Sighing, she murmured and tried to sit up. A hand quickly found her shoulder. Kaya felt herself flinch and resolved to solve that, too. For the moment, though, she opened her eyes, frowning a little at the brightness on the other side of her eyelids.

A short woman with dark hair and skin the color of wet earth greeted her with an impassive gaze.

"You're awake," she said matter-of-factly.

Kaya blinked at the older woman before sliding out from underneath the woman's hand, ignoring the spot of cold it left on her shoulder. "I am," Kaya agreed, equally matter-of-fact. Bracing herself, she held her breath and hefted herself into a seated position, ignoring the other woman's obvious disapproval. She did not know where she was and she felt too tired to run. Being alone and vulnerable in an unfamiliar space left precisely no room for being prone as well. Her arms trembled under her own weight, but Kaya ignored that, her gaze still on the strange woman's face.

"Where am I?"

"You're at Anna's inn," the woman replied calmly. "In the city of Meeros."

Kaya frowned as she tasted the words. Meeros. City. Inn. The last had her looking up again.

"I assume Anna runs a business and not a charity." To her surprise, the woman smiled.

"Anna does a little bit of everything. But if you're asking whether she's charging you, then know. All she'd ask, I'm sure, is a story."

Kaya raised an eyebrow. She'd been about to inquire where Anna was, if this woman wasn't her. But the stranger's question quickly fostered a new one.

"A story?"

The woman nodded, standing. "You wandered out of the desert three days ago near naked as the sky is wide. Didn't say a word to anyone about where you'd come from or what had happened to you. But you brought the biggest sandstorm the city has seen in years. And those that found you say you fell out of a voider." The woman had turned away to pour water from a jug into a small wooden cup. For a moment, the sound of moving water had distracted Kaya, and she found herself embarrassingly unable to take her eyes from the woman's hands.

But the words 'out of a voider' had her switching her gaze again, first shocked, then defensive, then carefully blank. The woman stared at her.

Kaya said, "Is that water?" The woman nodded. Kaya swallowed, her throat suddenly like sandpaper.

"May I have some?"

"Did you survive a voider? On your own? You passed through one, and came out alive?" The woman's voice had suddenly taken on an edge, somewhere between suspicion and hope. There was a desperate glimmer in her eye Kaya thought she recognized. It became immediately evident that though this woman held the water Kaya desperately needed, it was Kaya who had the upper hand.

Something inside her, something that had gone cold and still, shifted. And Kaya...found herself ignoring it.

"I was not alone," she answered simply. Then again, "The water. Please."

The woman watched her another moment, so closely Kaya half wondered if she meant to attack. Then her expression seemed to collapse into itself and she handed Kaya the cup. Kaya drained it in three swallows never once taking her eyes off the woman, who put her hand out for the empty cup. She took it, refilled it, and let Kaya drink again, a little slower this time. She stopped only when the woman wouldn't accept the cup again.

"They think you've been in the desert some time. You ought to pace yourself."

Kaya felt her temper flare briefly. "They?"

"The guards who rescued you. The ones who saw you come from the voider."

Kaya perked up at once, frowning. "Two...two men? One balding, the other tall and skinny?"

The woman nodded. "Amos Gladwell and his apprentice, Thomas. They've been to see you every day since they brought you here. Half the bloody city has, you'd. We don't see voider survivors often." She gave Kaya a shrewd glance. "They say you weren't alone."

This time, Kaya didn't respond, instead choosing to take in her surroundings. The room was small bust cozy enough. With no windows, she could only assume it was not a room meant to house guests for long. The desert, or at least Crolis would be too hot for that. As it were, Kaya felt alright. A little sore, perhaps. A little...She ran a hand through her hair reflexively and immediately knew it was shorter. Her arms, too, were browner than they had been, and skinnier as well. Idly, she wondered when last she had seen her reflection. How long had it been since she'd left Crolis? What had happened to the wares -- and the plans -- she had left with?

And what had happened to her guide?

"Girl?"

Kaya looked at the woman, almost surprised to see her still standing there, though her expression was less shrewd now and more concerned. Kaya wondered how long she had been trying to get her attention. It was so strange, speaking to someone who so willingly spoke back. She found herself vaguely irritated with how much the woman spoke, how much she was asking of her, even when they were all questions about Kaya. She had loved that sort of thing once. Hadn't she?

She looked at the woman, her gaze questioning.

"You said I've been here three days?"

"Yes."

"And there was a storm?"

The woman nodded. "Right mean one, too. Only just picked up and left a few hours ago." A weighty pause. "Not too much longer after your fever broke."

"And the roads?" Kaya went on impatiently. "Do you have any that come to the gates? Would they have closed? Are they usable now?"

The woman's expression became immediately alarmed.

"Usable? Well…I suppose so, but you can't be planning – "

Kaya sat up and threw aside the bed sheet spread over her legs, groaning at the sight of the thin white nightgown she wore. Impractical.

"To hear you tell it, I've already overstayed my welcome," Kaya said. "Are there any other clothes for me to wear? I can work out a payment plan with anyone who requires it, but now I've got to get back to the gates before any tracks are completely covered."

"Payment plan?" the woman stuttered, and her calm façade seemed to have faded altogether. "City gates? Tracks? Child, lie down, you've only just woken – "

"And I intend to waste no more time. I'm sure necessity will bring me back to this fine city you've got here. It's the closest place to find…well, anything, wouldn't you say?"

Kaya stood shakily, though the slight tremor of her legs seemed unimportant, if she noticed it at all. She brushed by the woman, poured herself another cup of water, and a second after she'd drained that one. Her belly would protest it soon enough, perhaps, but if she was going back out to the desert – and she was – she figured it was better to be on the side of too much as opposed to too little.

Meanwhile, the woman was still staring at her agape. Kaya could not guess who the woman thought her waking would be, but it clearly involved much more meekness, or the like, on Kaya's part. The young former merchant almost laughed. This woman did not know her at all.

"But…where will you go?" the woman asked. "What will you do?"

At that, Kaya grinned outright. "I have no idea," she said brightly. "And it's more liberating than I'd have guessed. Now, if you'll show me where I can find some clothes, we can talk more once I've returned."

The woman looked flabbergasted. "Returned from where?"

"I'm going to go find my business partner."

--

Kaya was up and planning by that evening, and the city of Meeros was astounded by her rapid recovery. She had no real patience for discussing what had happened in the desert, who she was, where she had come from, and who she had been with when she had come – though that last she had answered with question of her own, instead of distracted nonsense.

By nightfall, half the city knew the voider girl was not only recovered, but making plans for some solo excursion into the desert, and would be talked out of it by nothing and no one. She was polite, even charming to the city people, especially those who had had a hand in her rescue and recovery. She calmly promised that she would repay whatever debt she owed or accrued and would even work the inn until such a time as she was able. But none of this, story included, would happen until she had taken a short trip, on her own, back out into the wastes.

The townspeople could not understand. Was the girl still delirious? Was she crazy by her own rights, or had the time and trauma in the desert gotten to her? She seemed fully in control of herself and her mind, and even joked as she went about, chatting with the people in the inn and the many who had come to see what was true of the rumors. But it seemed she was intent only on gathering enough for her journey, however long it was intended to be.

"Well, I can't go too far, can I?" she reasoned. "We've seen how near the voiders came come to the city, and I have no intention of visiting another any time soon. But I do have business outside the city. For the moment, I'm just looking to track a friend. Once I've got his trail, I'll come back and hire an escort pair if I need to. I – "

She'd broken off suddenly in her sincere, if hurried explanation to the people who had come to see her off, her expression blank as she seemed to lose herself in her mind. It appeared to happen often with this girl, though whether that was normal or remnants of the desert, none of them could say.

"Miss Strong?" Green eyes snapped to the boy named Thomas, and Kaya beamed at him. It was beyond clear the boy had become quite enamored with her in a very short time.

"Are you sure you ought to be going out so soon?" he said, wringing his hands nervously. "You were only awake just this morning, and – well, maybe I ought to come with you?"

"I'll be alright, Thomas," she said warmly. "I need to go alone for now, but thank you for the offer."

No, the enigmatic girl from the voider would be halted by no one, and so it was that she found herself at the city gates again as the sun rose, the city to her back, the desert laid bare before her. She had another pack on her shoulders, though this one was much smaller. They had told her it was take just under a day to circle the city, which was exactly what she planned to do. And she would continue to do so until she found his trail. She refused to believe she could not find one.

If that didn't work, if she had to go further, then she would do that, too. She would hire her escort pair and set out from them, if she had to. That she would not find him never even occurred to her. Intent or ignorance, she couldn't say. It didn't seem to matter. She had another goal before her and little time to lose.

That, and she had an idea, just the faintest glow of a young ember burning in the back of her mind. And she was fairly certain it would not work without him.
 
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If there was one thing he had learned in all his time in the desert, it was that people did not leave the path. Perhaps they feared that, without the path, they would never be able to find their way to their destination. Perhaps they thought there was some sort of safety to the path, that if someone had used that route before they could use it too. It made the survival of caravans more dumb luck than it did anything else, on whether or not a voider would cross their path. Of course, the occasional skilled guide might be able to spot the tell-tale signs of the edge before it was too late, and then safely navigate away from and back to the path, but even then they never left the path. That's why he never suspected that someone might come at him from the side. It was simply something that didn't happen. There was nothing but wild desert to his sides, and no one ever came from the desert.

Except, apparently, for her.

At first, he thought he was hallucinating. It was nothing but a faint sound, but a familiar one. How long had he listened to the sound of her feet through sand and dry dirt? He closed his eyes, knowing it was impossible, but treasuring it sweetly for the moments it would last. He didn't know what he was actually hearing, but the sound of it sent a desperate pang through his chest.

It was only then that he recognized it as the feeling that had coursed through him every time he had seen the gate open. It wasn't fear, but longing. He didn't know how, or why, but he missed Kaya.

Perhaps it wasn't that surprising. He had spent his whole life either surrounded by abusers and tormentors, or on his own. The few experiences he had with people were rarely ever positive. And after all of that, he had spent that time with Kaya. She had sought him out, and while it might have only been out of desperate need at first, she had stayed with him. She might not have had much choice, but eventually her presence had become constant. It had been familiar, and... nice. He had saved her life many times, and she had saved his, too. For a time, every waking moment of his life had revolved around her.

Now he was alone again, facing the clammy hands of isolation once more. He knew it had been the right thing to do, the only thing to do, to let her return to the city. It was where she belonged, and he could never follow her. He would miss her. The sound of her would haunt him, waking or sleeping. But she was gone, and it was time for him to move on.

And then she crested the dune.

He thought he was sleeping. He thought he was hallucinating. She couldn't be out here. What was she doing out here, after she had just managed to escape? He got to his feet slowly, eyes tracing every line of her. There she was, cleaned and clothed, with a pack on her shoulders, almost like that very first day they had left Crolis. Except for her hair. Her hair was short now, cut back nearly to the scalp to get rid of the tangles. He didn't know what to make of it. So instead, he simply remained silent, watching her uncertainly.

He didn't know what to think.
 
It did not take very long for the silence of the desert to begin whispering small lies to her. Kaya set out confidently enough, but after only an hour of walking, she was beginning to doubt whether she would find him at all. It would not stop her, of course, but to continue with no hope of finding him? How would that be any different than trying to kill herself? She could not help but remember what had happened in the voider, in the desert before. She recalled so clearly the stark horror of waking up in a lush forest alone, of hearing those things come from her. Or even of being on the burning sand, trying to move faster than the voiders and being swallowed up anyway.

Had this been foolish? Had she once more been driven by her ego to do the impossible? What would happen if she failed now? He wouldn't be here to protect her. Of course not. Even if he had waited, she had been asleep for three days and recovering for another two. What if he had set off in an entirely different direction? What if he had gone back to the voider or gotten stuck in another one? It hadn't seemed possible...but then she'd thought the same when she had set out with him, and that had ended horribly.

She pack she'd brought was light, laden mostly with water and fruit and a few other items, but it felt heavier then than her first had ever been. Meeros loomed behind her. It would be no great thing to turn back to the gates empty handed. She was sure the city would care for her for another few days at least. And after that...well. Maybe she had been wrong to leave that small, warm pool in the forest at all.

She was watching the horizon when he found her, looming silent and slow out of the darkness. She saw him from the corner of her eye and felt her insides seize up in terror, wanting to run, unable to move. But...there was some small sense of relief, too. If she was going to die, at least it had been quick. At least she had been looking for him.

That it was him seemed...almost impossible. But then, almost impossible had never stopped her before.

"Well. It took you long enough. Now come on, we've wasted too much time as it is."

They weren't the words she'd meant to say, though she couldn't have guessed what they would have been otherwise. She tried very hard to remain matter-of-fact. That there may have been some debt lingering between them didn't even come to mind. Yes, he had waited -- of course he had, she had asked him to, and he was, in her opinion, in her employ until they reached Riven -- but he needn't have risen from the sand like some spectre in the night.

She found, though, that she could not keep a broad smile from crossing her face, and she didn't have the energy to try.

"Well," she snapped impatiently, the effect somewhat marred by the fact that she was beaming. "What are you waiting for? We can't do anything just standing here." She watched him a moment longer, than sighed, dropping the pack from her shoulders.

"Here. I brought you these." She crouched and pulled out several rolls of clean white linen, thrusting them toward him without looking as she continued to dig through her bag with her other hand. "I owe a man named Kevan two silvers for those, so we'll have to remember that once we've started turning a profit. Though I will say the whole of them seem...enamored since I arrived," she went on, hardly giving him a chance to reply if he wanted to. "They'll probably allow us to forego interest if we're fast. Oh. This is yours, too." She pulled out a large bundle, another piece of linen wrapped around a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese and a waterskin full to bursting.

"I figure we ought to find somewhere to bed down for a bit until you're well rested, and then we should get back to the city. They'll ask some questions, of course, and if we take too long, they may send someone for me, so we should be back by then. But I've told them your my business partner, which will be true enough soon, if we get started right now."

Finally, she stood to look at him again, feeling oddly at peace for the first time in days. The desert stood at her back and all around, and she found she didn't feel afraid at all.

"Well?" she said a third time. "Haven't you heard anything I've said? If we want to capitalize on this investment, we've got to get moving now."
 
Of course he hadn't needed to say anything. When had he ever said anything around her. It was almost like that month in the desert had never happened, because there she was, talking so fast at him that he could barely even keep up. No, barely was an exaggeration. He had no idea what she was saying. It didn't make any sense.

No, that wasn't quite true. She was talking about money again. He'd never really gotten money, even though he knew what it was, but he supposed it was a good thing that Kaya's obsession was back, even if he considered it remarkably unhealthy. She was talking about money, and she'd brought him bandages. What, did she expect him to still help her get back to Riven? She wanted to venture back out into the desert again. He knew it couldn't be that kind of madness.

But, no, that's wasn't right either. She didn't want him to go out into the desert. She expected him to go into the city with her. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he finally forced it into position. "Wh-what?" was all he managed.
 
For a moment, she was torn between exasperation and amusement. But only a moment.

"Well, why are you here, then, if it wasn't so we can go and do something else. Something better? We're not getting to Riven anytime soon, so what else is there?" she demanded, a hand on her hip. And then she stopped to think. The half-formed plan in her head was just that -- half-formed. Still pockmarked with sink holes and worse, and Kaya never went into anything unprepared.

But what else was there? What else could there be? Just a few days in the city and she'd woken feeling tense and terrified and empty and bored. At least out here, she felt...felt anything at all. She did not know whether that was him, or the fresh air or the freedom, or...

Well. No. That wasn't fair. Before she'd found him, she'd felt almost worse than she did inside the city. There, it was like she'd been in a cage surrounded by venomous snakes. Out here, without him, she had just been among the snakes, waiting for them to strike. It might have been almost worth it without him. Maybe that was why she'd come at all. She'd known, known immediately, that she'd wanted to find him. She just didn't know why.

But the desert, that fear, had given her an idea. Kaya couldn't remember a single time in her life she'd done something for another person without expecting something in return. There was nothing cruel or vindictive about it. She just didn't see the point in altruism. It didn't help her, and it could easily be argued even the benefactor would only benefit for so long. Teaching a man to fish and all that.

But her time with him had taught her, too. Not everyone looked at things in terms of power and gain, money spent, money lost, money owed. Sometimes, kindness existed in a void, and that created a kind of power all its own. It was strange and unfamiliar and intangible. She didn't know how to count it, and she certainly didn't know how to wield it. But it seemed all at once that she quite literally could not live without it.

And now, here, standing in the sand under the silver light of the moon, she felt...right. It was almost like she had felt the night before she'd first set out with him. She was anxious and excited, standing at the mouth of a cliff wide, deep gorge, about to jump, hoping to fly, willing to risk the chance that she might not. Only this time, she would not be alone. And this time, she would not have money to show for it.

Or at least not just money.

But she could see something powerful working together in her head. And she could see the faces of those people they had met in the desert. The boy trying to defend his mother, his mother trying to do the same. And she could see her sister's face, feel her sister's fear as they had disappeared into a different type of nightmare altogether.

Riven no longer meant anything. Whatever Kaya had been selling herself since the first time she'd emerged from the desert -- all that now fell flat. There was a picture in her head, another goal, and it was invigorating. It was also something she never would have guessed for herself. She didn't know if it worked. But if it did, she was certain she would be unstoppable. They would be unstoppable.

"You know," she said, looking at him with a wry smile. "If we're going to move forward with this new plan, you're going to have to be better at listening. We have a responsibility to our future clients to keep them safe. They're going to want to know you're paying attention." She frowned for a moment and considered.

"They're probably also going to want to know your name."
 
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Why was he here? It should have been such a simple question to answer, but even hearing it seemed to lock him up tight, bring his mind grinding to a halt, so he couldn't even think, let alone answer. He didn't think it was what Kaya said, was it? Could it really be something so simple? In those brief moments where he had heard her footsteps but had not seen her, when he had thought himself to be dreaming, he had realized he had been waiting for Kaya. Wanting to see her one last time. But it had been irrational. He knew that, too. He did not belong in her world, and she certainly didn't deserve to have to try and survive in his.

What else was there, indeed? He had been prepared to let her go, but had lingered anyways. There was no sense to it, no logic. He didn't like the city. He didn't want to have to face it. Yet nor could he live in this perpetual halfway state between one and the other. Nor could she. But what did that mean, for either of them? For her, who had come to find him, and for him, who had waited?

Before he had time to reach a conclusion, to actually start thinking about how to respond to such a difficult question, Kaya was speaking again. Her words had always rolled right over his thoughts, moving on to the next thing before he was finished with the first. At least this one was easier. He didn't understand it one bit. Therefore, there was nothing to think about.

"Plan?" he repeated. "Clients?"

For once, he was able to get his words out, to fully express himself before Kaya started speaking. It was far from the clearest thing he had ever said, but when had he ever been particularly articulate?

"Kaya, I can't... city," he said, pointing. "People and I... we... don't. Bad."
 
"I know that! I -- " With a frustrated sigh, Kaya started to rake a hand through her curls before she remembered how little remained of them and scratched her scalp instead. She exhaled.

"I know," she said again gentler this time. She did know. She had always been too much for people to handle, for as long as she could remember. Even before Crolis, before the desert. She was forever a step ahead of her baby sister and her mother and even the men she had sometimes brought home. Most of the time, Kaya wielded her wit like a weapon, brandishing it just so to keep people near her, close to her, but never touching. A safe distance where she could use them as she needed then discard them again with no care.

He had started out the same way. And then...and then she had broken. He had taken her to a place where her wit didn't matter, and when she tried to assert that she did, the desert had taken everything from her. And she hadn't been able to charm anyone or anything into giving it back. It had saved her when she was young, twelve years old and the prepubescent play thing of a band of merchants. She had been witty then, too, and they had loved her for it.

She could pit him against neither the desert nor those men. But he had woken something in her nonetheless. She could understand his reluctance to go back to the city, naked, open, for everyone to see. It was not her first time feeling that way, but it was her first time sharing the feeling with someone else. How many times had he seen her like that since they had started her journey?

And yet he had stayed. Had even risked his life for her. She didn't understand it, didn't understand the compulsion, the desire. She couldn't imagine what her life gave to him, why he would have ever chosen to save her if not the money. She could only guess it was the same reason she had faced the desert again to find him.

"You did alright with me," she said finally. "And with those people in the desert. Remember? After the storm? They were...well, it doesn't matter what they were, what matters is that I'm good with people. I can make people like me even more than they might fear you. I can make them trust me. And you...you can keep them safe. See?"

He didn't see. Or maybe he did. It didn't matter. Kaya wasn't very good at not talking.

"We'll be an escort pair. Understand? I can find us clients. You can get us across the wastes. We...well, mostly you, I guess...you know when the voiders are coming, right? We already have that much on other escort pairs, you could have been building an empire this whole time, only...well. You didn't have me before. And now you do." She smiled at him, half hopeful, half fearful.

"We'd never have to stay in the city. Not for long. Not at all, I guess, if...if that's better," she paused a second, almost surprised by her words. Then she decided that she meant them and went on without a second thought. "We'd pick up new clients faster that way, anyway, once we built up a little bit of a base, a reputation. We could go back and forth between here and Crolis or Riven, or even bigger cities, probably. Between your experience, and my sales...we're the perfect team. You...you don't have to belong in there. You...we could belong out here. Everywhere."

She stopped talking abruptly and dropped back to her knees pretending to go through her pack for something as she ducked her head to hide the flush crawling across the bridge of her nose.

"It's the best bet we've got now," she said tersely. "I can't stay in that place forever. And you haven't made it very far. If you have a better idea, I'm willing to hear it. But you won't. Because there are none. So, say what you need to say and let's get to work."
 
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