Chapter 4: From the Earth—Part II

(664 A.C.)

Andurak and Wanily made less progress on their first day than he would have liked. The girl was smaller than him, weaker, and couldn't move as quickly through the deep snow. For all that, though, she didn't complain. Andurak only slowed down when he realized he could no longer hear the crunch of footsteps through the snow behind him and turned only to find Wanily flagging some forty paces behind him. He waited, frowning, until she caught back up to him. She gave him a lopsided smile, nose and cheeks red with the cold and eyes squinted against the harsh glint of the sun off the snow. Andurak had her hold onto his pack, again, so that when he unconsciously started to walk faster, he was limited by the extra weight of Wanily trudging behind him.

They walked a good twenty miles by Andurak's estimations, but he was usually able to make it thirty or more when he was on his own. He sighed as he brought them to a halt and set about making camp. Really, he was more concerned than anything. They didn't have the gear with them to keep the girl very warm. She would either freeze to death while she slept, or she would miraculously make it through the night. Then, if they continued at the same pace, she'd only have to do it the four more nights it would take them to get out of the harsh cold of Iten and to the milder winter of Oavale.

Andurak didn't like her chances. But it was this dangerous journey, leaving her in a town that might throw her out to the elements on her own, or leaving her to starve to death next to the warm safety of the phoenix.

This was her best option. And, she had Andurak with her. He was confident that he could keep her alive, if nothing else. He'd done so for himself all these years.

He would teach the girl how to survive on her own, just like he did, and it would prove that he was the greatest survivalist among the Wandering People. First, he just had to get her somewhere he could properly teach her.

He showed her how to clear an area for a camp in the snow. He got out his tent and set it up under her watchful eye, then brought it back down and had her attempt to do it herself.

The first try ended up with her staring at the pile of sealskin and fur the tent made when it collapsed and loudly announcing, "That wasn't right."

Andurak snorted and showed her again. And when it collapsed on her next try, he showed her again. On her fifth attempt, the tent continued to stand despite the howling wind around them. One side of Andurak's mouth quirked in a smile, and he nodded at her. She grinned back.

Now he had to come to a decision. He had a spare tent he kept with him just in case his main one tore or was otherwise ruined. It was smaller and thinner, built more for the nights of spring or summer rather than such an unforgiving climate. He could have Wanily sleep in it while he slept in his regular tent, or he could have her sleep in his warmer tent and he would take the lighter tent. The best option would be for them to share his usual tent–they would produce more body heat together, and Wanily would need all the warmth she could get–but Andurak was, admittedly, uncomfortable with the idea. It was for her survival, they should do it, but sharing a living space, even one such as a tent, was an intimate practice for the Wandering People. It was usually reserved for members of the same family unit, and that wasn't them.

But she could die.

Andurak turned the thoughts over in his head as he showed her how to build a fire. There were no stones to lay around it, so he just produced some sticks from his pack he kept just for the occasion. He’d need to get more soon–he’d planned on restocking at Mincelight, but that stay had been cut short. They’d last until Oavale, at least,

The sticks were dry, so that wasn’t an issue. Andurak still explained the difference to her, how she should look for wood that was dry instead of anything wet but that she could use wet wood if she knew what she was doing. And she did know what she was doing–or, at least, she would–because Andurak gave her a detailed description of what to do and how to do it, demonstrating with a few of his dry sticks and kindling. He had her recreate it, arranging the sticks just so and pretending they started the fire with the bits of kindling. She didn't do it quite right on the first try, but by the third, Andurak would say she had just about nailed it.

Andurak had her start over and build their fire for the night from the dry sticks, just to make sure she understood what she was doing. He handed her one of his pieces of flint and his small dagger that was designed specifically to generate sparks from the flint, made of some special kind of iron. Andurak would have to get Wanily her own little pack and stock it with gear to help her survive–but it might be difficult to acquire a dagger of the likes he had. Either way, he wasn't sure it was the wisest decision to leave a small child with a knife anyway, but she would need a larger one if she hoped to skin and prepare any game she caught.

Andurak himself had been using a knife at six, albeit under the watchful eyes of the adults in his family unit. Wanily had to at least be eight–she should be fine. Andurak would show her what to do, and she should at least manage not to injure herself when using it.

Andurak didn't have enough money to be buying her all the sorts of things she would need to survive like he did. There were a few people in Oavale that were indebted to him who might be persuaded to give the girl an item or two, but that would be the extent of it. At the very least, Andurak would have to figure out how to get her some type of bag, a regular dagger, and a few cooking utensils. He could part with his spare tent, and he had a glass lens that could be used to start fires as well. He'd give her a spare piece of flint, but he'd also show her how to use the glass lens until she could figure out how to get a dagger made of the right material to make use of the flint.

Wanily let out a whoop when the kindling caught fire, a proud smile on her face as she held the dagger and flint up high. Andurak nodded to her and held out his hands. She gave the items back and threw her hands over the burgeoning fire, a content sigh escaping her at the warmth.

Andurak put the items back in his pack slowly. He sighed and turned back to the girl. "We have a couple of options when it comes to sleeping arrangements," he told her. "I have two tents, but one of them is thinner than the other and doesn't have the same flaps to keep out the cold air."

"Why don't we just share a tent?" Wanily asked.

It was a perfectly innocent question from someone who knew nothing of the traditions of the Wandering People. Andurak, on the other hand, had refused to join or form a family unit for over a decade. He didn't want to break that for a complete stranger he would probably only know for a few weeks.

He was silent for too long because Wanily spoke again. "It'll be warmer, right?" She gave him a sidelong look, eyes narrowed to slits. "And you're not going to... do anything, right?"

Andurak balked. "Of course not," he snapped. It was too harsh a reaction for an admittedly fair question, but Wanily remained unfazed.

Andurak sighed. This girl really couldn't be all that old. She really shouldn't know the intimate details of what people did together when others weren't watching. However, she did say she grew up on the streets. She probably saw more of it there than anyone should.

It brought up a troubling question, one Andurak struggled to voice. "Has anyone ever... done anything to you, Wanily?" he asked, using the same verbiage she did and already bracing himself.

She frowned and looked away, back toward the fire, making her eyes glow like molten gold. "No," she said. "Gotten a few beatings. Woman broke my finger one time. But the only time someone tried to–tried to do that to me, I ran and hid in some garbage until he gave up looking for me."

Andurak let out a long, slow breath through his nose. When he felt slightly less murderous, he held out a gloved hand. Wanily peered at it, then his face, curiously.

"Your finger," he said, "the one that was broken. Let me see."

Wanily shrugged and placed her right hand in his. He examined her fingers, already slender things that were made bony from her struggles to feed herself. “Which of them was broken?” he asked. The fact that he had to ask at all was a good sign.

She tapped her middle finger against his palm. “This one.”

He scrutinized it for a moment, but he couldn’t see any bumps or other indication that the bone had healed incorrectly. That was another thing he’d have to teach her–proper care of injuries. His first aid knowledge was limited, but it was always meant to be a matter of preventing further injury while he got to someone who could actually treat it. At the very least, he could show her how to disinfect wounds, splint broken bones, and suture cuts together.

That was something else he’d need to get her–a needle and medical thread. Hopefully she’d never need it, but Andurak wasn’t so naive.

“Looks like it healed alright,” he grunted, pulling away.

Wanily brought her hand up in front of her face. She flexed her finger as she spoke, eyes trained on it. “Yeah, it really hurt, but it was alright. I went to one of the churches, and the priest there gave me a really gross potion that fixed it right up.”

That explained it, then. Andurak didn’t know much about the process of making potions, nor what went into them beyond magical plants–or more commonly, parts of magical creatures.

There was a reason the Wandering People were generally against potion-making.

Nonetheless, they were useful, and some of them had common enough ingredients to be freely given out by the Church of Amera to those that needed it. Even if he had a distaste for them, Andurak could be glad that they had helped Wanily.

He grunted in acknowledgement. There was peace in knowing she’d gotten the help she needed–and managed to avoid other sorts of trauma–but that didn’t address the issue at hand. Wanily would have no problem sharing a tent. The only one that had reservations was Andurak.

It could mean nothing. Ignoring what it meant to the Wandering People, it would just be two people sharing a tent to avoid freezing to death. And if no other Wanderer ever found out, no one could ever accuse him of trying to form a family unit. It would just be doing what needed to be done.

It still made Andurak deeply unsettled.

"You would be willing to share a tent, then?" he asked, still hoping that she'd say no. Among most other cultures, it certainly wouldn’t be appropriate.

"Sure," she chirped, demonstrating a distinct lack of care for what most cultures thought.

It made him wonder where she was even from. She had the golden eyes of the Nanshee, but she mentioned going to a church to get her finger treated. Nanshee was not part of the empire, and while they worshiped Amera, she wasn't the only new god to receive their reverence. Not to mention their houses of worship were referred to as temples, not churches, and they didn't generally help the poor and needy like the Church of Amera did.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Maybe, before she lost them and her memory, Wanily's family had been Wanderers like him–he could ask around at the next Gathering. Or maybe she came from bards. Andurak had heard that lots of bards came out of Nanshee, and they were as notorious as the Wandering People for moving around everywhere.

Andurak sighed. “Right.”

He motioned to the bag of food Trudin gave them, and they split some hard bread and partially frozen cheese. Andurak dumped some snow into his pot and set it up over the fire to boil out the impurities, explaining to Wanily what he was doing and why. That led to an explanation of how to find sources of freshwater in different environments, what to look for and which water not to drink under any circumstances.

“Taking water near a kappa’s den is dangerous,” he told her. “They might see it as an intrusion or theft. You could offer them some fish first as a gesture of goodwill, but they still might not accept it. It’s better to just go farther down the river.”

Wanily nodded along as he spoke, listening intently, and Andurak thought she must have understood. Then, she asked, “What’s a kappa?”

The question stunned him like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind from him. He furrowed his brow. “You don’t know what a kappa is?”

“Should I?”

Andurak sighed again, a sound this girl forced out of him too often. Settled people didn’t tend to see many magical creatures unless they kept one as a pet or they lived in a city and saw the droves of pixies that nested in the dark nooks and crannies among buildings. Still, most children at least heard stories of different magical creatures. Cautionary tales if nothing else–like the ones parents told of kappas in warning their children not to stray too close to a river’s edge.

Whether Wanily came from Wanderers or bards, both were people of sharing stories. She should have at least heard of a kappa before.

“Yes,” he replied, looking her up and down. “You said you don’t remember your family. So what do you remember?”

“Nothing,” she said. If she was bothered by the question or her answer, she didn’t show it. “Not up until a few months ago. The first thing I remember is going through the gates of Tiulipia.”

Andurak was familiar with the city. It was in Dryan, close to the center of the country. Looked like he’d been right that she’d been somewhere inside the empire.

“And before that is just... gone? You don’t remember any of it?” he asked, trying to make sense of the girl’s situation.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Wanily said with a shrug. She pointed at the pot of boiling water. “Is that ready yet? I’m thirsty.”

Andurak removed it from the fire without a thought, setting it aside to cool down and hopefully not freeze before they could drink it. He was still trying to wrap his head around what Wanily said. Had she received a head injury? Suffered something so traumatic that her brain blocked out all her memories? He guessed she could have even run into a telecat, but it would have to be a very powerful and very angry one to completely remove her memories like that. And they didn’t usually live around the grassy plains of Dryan.

Instead of sighing, Andurak rubbed his forehead and tried not to think about a little girl trying to navigate a world she knew nothing about with no one to help her. How was she even still alive?

When the water had cooled enough, he let her cup her hands and drink that way seeing as he didn’t have a spare waterskin the water could be poured into–another thing he’d have to get for her. He could teach her all about hunting and laying traps and gathering berries and nuts, but Wanily wouldn’t get very far without consistent access to drinkable water.

While Wanily was drinking, Andurak pulled out two books from his pack–one on edible and medicinal plants and another on magical creatures, his personal volume of The Wanderer’s Spirit. It was the central text on the whole religion of the Wandering People, but for all of that, it was mostly just a guide to the different magical creatures that shared this world with them. If Wanily was going to be traveling through the wilderness of the land, she would need to know which magical creatures would help her, which would hurt her, and which could be moved to do one or the other.

Once she was done and Andurak had her wipe her hands off on a spare cloth, he handed her the books. She opened The Wanderer’s Spirit first, shifting so that the fire cast light on the pages without being close enough that a stray spark could set it ablaze. She rifled through it, scrutinizing the illustrations of each creature. The book was separated by old god and new god creatures, and then by alphabetical order.

She stopped on the entry of griffons and pointed at it. “What’s this one?”

Andurak frowned. “It says on the top of the page.”

Wanily rolled her eyes. “I can’t read,” she said, sounding almost scandalized.

Andurak’s brain stuttered for a moment, his thoughts blanking. It made sense–she lived on the streets before this. Most children didn’t learn to read and write until they were around her age, and then the only schools were in cities. If a person lived in a smaller town, it usually fell to a child’s parents to teach them.

Without parents to either enroll her in a school or teach her themselves, Wanily wouldn’t know how to read.

Andurak, unfortunately, didn’t have the kind of time to teach her nor was it his duty. They’d just have to make do without her being able to read.

He sat next to her, leaving enough space for the fire to illuminate the pages of the book. He went through each of the creatures with her, naming them and summarizing where they lived and how to treat them. He started at the beginning with an Akhlut, noting how they lived in arctic waters and the coasts of cold regions like the one they were in right now. They took the form of an orca whale while in water but transformed into a giant, white wolf when on land. They weren’t aggressive unless provoked, but it was better to avoid them if it could be helped.

He went through each creature like that, through all the old god creatures and then to the new god creatures, finally ending with werewolves. They lived in the jungles of the eastern hemisphere, but, Andurak told her, she could run into one in many regions of the world. The large, humanoid wolves could take more punishment than the average human and deal much more than the typical soldier. The Tirandan Empire sometimes captured them and unleashed them into enemy campsites during the night when they were most bloodthirsty. It was a strategy employed often in Fris, from what Andurak understood. The blatant disrespect for the creatures disgusted Andurak–not to mention attacking someone when they were sleeping–but he kept that to himself.

During the day, werewolves were docile and may even share food they caught with passing humans. It was during the night that they turned violent, and they grew more powerful depending on the phase of the moon. Andurak advised Wanily to avoid them unless it was morning and she had ample time to put space between them before nightfall.

The fire was dwindling by the time he finished going through the book. “I’ll quiz you on it in the morning,” Andurak told her, putting the books away. They could go over plants tomorrow, or maybe in a couple more days when she’d gotten the magical creatures down.

Wanily nodded and looked out over the frozen landscape around them. In a stroke of good luck, there’d been no snowfall during the day or the night. She stood with a yawn as Andurak reluctantly opened the tent flap for her. She crawled in without any reservation, curling up as close to one side as she could, leaving just enough space for Andurak.

He bit back his sigh this time and simply went in after her. He fixed the flap in front in case the still air whipped into something more violent before laying on his side. More space was left between them that way.

He tried to sleep, doing his best to block out the unsettling sound of someone breathing beside him. Of course, he’d shared tents with members of his old family unit, but that was years ago now. He was more used to solitude than he wasn’t.

Beyond that, it was another person. In his tent. She was little more than a dark mass laying next to him, nothing really discernible about her other than the steady rise and fall of her breathing, but he couldn’t push the thought away. Another person in his tent.

Typically, Andurak did his best not to let his emotions cloud his judgment, but the thought of just setting up his smaller tent and sleeping in that for the night was sounding more appealing by the second.

“Andurak?” Wanily called softly, making him start. He thought she’d already fallen asleep.

He grunted in acknowledgement. Wanily’s shadowy form shifted slightly, and though he couldn’t see them, he could feel her golden eyes boring into him.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked. Andurak couldn’t get a look at her expression and had to go purely off her voice. It was quiet, but he wasn’t sure if that was because they were so close together or she was feeling anxious.

He debated his answer for a moment. He could say it was because he wanted to prove something to the world, but that wasn’t the core of the matter. Eventually, he said, “Because I can.”

“Most people don’t,” Wanily said. Andurak could practically hear her scowl. “They just want to use you for their own gain.”

Right. She mentioned she was framed for some crime. That’s why she was up here in the first place. “The Wandering People don’t,” Andurak said. “Lots of priests and priestesses in the Church of Amera don’t. If you can help someone, kid, then help them. The world would be a lot better place if everyone did that, but it doesn’t always work out like that.”

“I want to be the Archmage,” Wanily proclaimed. She shifted again, and Andurak was fairly certain she was laying on her back now, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “I want to master magic, and I want to use it to help everyone in the world.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Andurak said, closing his eyes. Strangely, the idea of sleeping wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore.

“I don’t care. I’ll help them all. I’ll make everyone in the world happy. That’s the Archmage’s job.”

“That so?”

“Yes,” Wanily said, insistent. “I heard all about it. How Archmage Vertrix ended the Necroplague. Lots of people died in it.”

“Yes,” Andurak said faintly, thinking of scrolls and scrolls crammed with names and bodies strewn about the world to be reclaimed by the earth. “Lots of people did.”

“Yeah, well, Vertrix ended it. And now lots more people get to live and be happy because of him. I want to be like that.”

Andurak felt himself smile. Wanily couldn’t see it, so he hoped it colored his voice. “Get out there and help people, Wanily,” he said. “Don’t let anyone ever convince you that you shouldn’t.”

“Duh,” Wanily said, her voice oddly fond.

Andurak huffed. “Go to sleep,” he griped, waving a hand at her.

“Fine, fine,” she muttered. There was quiet for another moment, and then, “Andurak? What are the Wandering People?”

Andurak furrowed his brow, not bothering to open his eyes. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve heard of them,” Wanily said, a bit sheepish. “I don’t really know what they are, though.”

“Me,” he said. “Now go to sleep.”

“That’s not a real answer!”

Andurak sighed. Before he could even say anything else, Wanily giggled. “You do that a lot, huh?” she asked.

“Wanily,” he deadpanned, very consciously holding back another sigh. “Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You can’t tell me just real quick?” she pleaded.

Andurak scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re not going to let this go until I tell you, will you?”

He could just barely make out Wanily nodding her head vigorously. He didn’t bother withholding his sigh this time.

“The Wandering People come from Windsor–”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s in the eastern hemisphere, and I would have told you that without the interruption,” he drawled.

“Oh, sorry,” Wanily said, not sounding very apologetic.

Andurak huffed. "It's in the northern region of the continent. Almost as cold as here in Iten, but not quite. Get less snow, too.

"That's technically our home country, but only people who can't travel really stay there. The elderly, the physically impaired, and our government officials mostly stay there, along with a few people to look after those that need some help getting through the day. The rest of us wander the world."

Wanily nodded again. "So, the Wandering People," she said sagely.

Andurak grunted. "We worship the magical creatures that call this world home, and it is our duty to travel these lands, paying our respects and helping them when we can. We hunt and gather our own food, and let any who wish to join our ranks begin wandering with us. Then, every few years, we go back to Windsor to attend The Gathering. It's basically a time for all the Wandering People to get together, swap stories, share food, and make record of who travels with whom and who has died or been born or simply left the order."

Wanily hummed in thought, probably sorting through the questions she wanted to ask. "Why not worship the gods?" she settled on.

Andurak gave a one shoulder shrug, more to himself than to the girl who might not be able to see it. "The gods don't do much for us. The old gods are gone, and the new gods aren’t in the picture either. The only beings of immense power left in this world are the magical creatures.”

"I guess that makes sense," Wanily said, sounding contemplative.

“I’ve got a question for you, now,” Andurak said. Turnabout was fair play. “How did you find that phoenix?”

“Oh, that was easy. I saw the glow of the igloo and the magic inside. I figured it was a person, at first, right? It just made sense. Some guy with a campfire or something. I’d never seen a phoenix before, and they didn’t strike me as the kind of creatures that would live in the arctic. ‘Cause they’re on fire, and this is all snowy. But I guess looking back on it, the magic was too big to have belonged to a person. Maybe multiple people...” she mused.

Andurak blinked against the darkness, trying to understand what she just said. “What do you mean, you saw the magic?”

“You know, the magic. I saw it.” At Andurak’s stunned silence, she continued, “Like through the wall of that little house-thing?”

“Igloo,” he said absently, mind still trying to wrap around what she said.

“Sure,” Wanily said, blase.

“When you say you can see magic,” he worked out slowly, frowning, “do you mean you can see all magic? Spells? Magic trapped in magical creatures and plants?”

“Can’t you?” Wanily said, sounding genuinely confused.

“No.” He fixed her with a strange look she couldn’t see. “Do you think everyone can?”

“Well,” Wanily said, voice louder than it was before, too much for the tiny space, “can’t they?”

“No. People can’t see magic.” Not that he didn’t believe her. He had just never heard of anything like that before.

She gasped, suddenly, cutting off any more of Andurak’s thoughts. “Do you think that’s my specialty?”

“Your what?”

Her tone turned dubious, like she couldn’t understand what Andurak didn’t understand. “My specialty. I’m a specialty mage, but those people at Festra said they didn’t know what specialty I have.”

She was a specialty mage? They were even more respected among the Wandering People than the average person or other magical creature. He'd never met any–most of them were employed under kings or queens for their specific talents. Andurak had always thought if ever did meet one, he’d probably make a fool of himself following them around and offering them tributes they had no need of, like jerky or animal pelts. There was little else he had to offer as a Wanderer.

Andurak didn’t need more of a reason to help Wanily not die as she traveled the world. This certainly didn’t hurt her case, though.

“It could be,” Andurak said. “You’re sure you’re not an immortal?” She’d have no way of knowing until she was older and stopped aging. Though, there were spells that could pick apart discrepancies in the soul, and as far as Andurak understood it, specialties of the same type appeared as the same difference between a regular soul and the soul of a specialty mage. If her guards didn’t know which specialty she had, there was a good chance she held some new kind of specialty.

“Pretty sure,” Wanily chirped. Her tone turned considering. “I’ve never tried to die before, though.”

Andurak blanched. “Immortals aren’t incapable of dying,” he huffed. “Who told you that? Immortals stop aging when they reach twenty-five, but they can still die.”

“Oh. So why are they called immortals if they’re mortal?”

Andurak sighed. “That’s just what they’re called,” he drawled. He frowned, thinking. “Guess we’ll need a name for your specialty.”

Wanily gasped. “Yeah! I didn’t think about that. What should I be called? It’s gotta be something cool, but maybe something cute, too? Oh, and it has to be perfect for the future Archmage.”

Andurak allowed a wry smile into the darkness. “The future Archmage, huh?”

Wanily hummed her assent. “What about... oracleer?”

“What? Just oracle and seer smashed together?”

“Yeah!”

Andurak huffed again. “You don’t see the future. Why would you use either of those, much less the both of them?”

“I guess you’re right,” Wanily said. Andurak could hear her pout. “Maybe... large?”

Andurak furrowed his brow, but he found himself more bemused than anything. “What?”

“You know, there’s mediums. So I could be a large. That would be pretty intimidating. Better than being called a small. ”

Andurak snorted. “Not much better,” he said. Wanily groaned, but fell silent, probably thinking. Andurak turned his own thoughts toward the task. As a Wanderer, it was his duty to document as much as he could about magical creatures, and that included humans and specialty mages. He could think of no greater honor than naming a new kind of specialty mage. He better come up with something good.

“Sensor,” Andurak said.

Wanily was silent, which Andurak took to mean she was mulling over this answer. Eventually, she proclaimed, “Too plain. How about visioneer?”

Andurak huffed in amusement. That one wasn’t any better than oracleer. Wanily could keep suggesting different names and thinking about it, but Andurak had already suggested one that was actually good. He would record it and spread it among the Wandering People, and at the next Gathering, they might try to share it with the rest of the world.

If Wanily didn’t go around parading one of her awful names instead.

“Okay, not visioneer.” Wanily clicked her tongue. Andurak couldn’t help but wonder where a child with no past had picked up such an action. “I didn’t really like that one anyway. But I think dowser really has some potential. You know, because I see magic? And I’ve heard about dowsing rods and–wait, do those actually exist? I thought they did, but a kid told me they were just something writers made up. But that doesn’t matter because people know what dowsing is, so they should totally get what the name means–”

Wanily kept prattling on, voice soft in the small space. Andurak merely shut his eyes and let her words fade into the background, allowing sleep to claim him.

———

Wanily was curled into a ball next to him, a few inches still separating them, when Andurak woke the next morning. Weak light piercing through the tent from the rising sun barely outlined her shadowy frame, but it was enough for Andurak to check and make sure she was still, in fact, breathing.

She’d made it through the night alive. Now, she only had to do it three more times.

He tried to extract himself from the tent without waking her, but it proved fruitless when she sat up the moment he moved to climb out. She gave a huge yawn and attempted to stretch only to run into the side of the tent. A lesser man might have rolled his eyes, but Andurak merely snorted and left. Wanily yelped when he opened the flap and the cold air outside rushed in, but Andurak moved quickly and shut the flap behind him the moment he was out of the tent. He’d give Wanily a little more time to get ready for the day.

The dual waves of the sixth daystellation, Creia, were barely discernible past the dark clouds blotting out most of the sky. The sun was peeking out over the horizon in the east, a fierce glow of yellow from behind more clouds. It made the snow on the ground sparkle and shine, but not yet blindingly so.

Andurak took a moment to just appreciate the beauty of the waking world. Even in such a desolate wasteland of cold and white, with a sky of gray that blocked out the warmth of the sun, he couldn’t help but love this land he wandered.

He could hear Wanily fumbling with the tent flap behind him, so he spurred himself back into motion, stepping forward to give her more room to climb out. He started cleaning up their campsite before stopping himself. He should probably have Wanily do it, make sure she knew how, and he could quiz her on magical creatures as she did so.

In the next moment, Wanily exited the tent in a tumble of limbs and her long coat. Creia was still in the sky when they left the makeshift campsite behind, so cleaning it all up hadn’t taken her more than an hour under Andurak’s watchful eye. Now, he just had to see if she could make the same amount of progress as the day before. If she wasn’t accustomed to all the walking, her legs were bound to be tired.

He quizzed her as they walked on the magical creatures from the night before, correcting her when she misremembered something and grunting in approval when she got the information right. It wasn’t often that she remembered what he had told her, but they had time to work on that yet.

He held off on introducing plant identification until a few days later, when she, by some blessing, was still breathing and they were close to the border between Iten and Oavale. The land was less desolate here, with spruce trees and more hearty ferns breaching the layer of snow. He had a town in mind to head to, though it was still a day or two out depending on if he could get Wanily to pick up the pace without so much snow in the way.

They were trudging down the road in silence and had been for about an hour by Andurak’s internal sense of the time. If only they could actually see the daystellations with the naked eye, he mused. It would make telling the time whenever the sun was out much easier.

He should probably start quizzing Wanily again, but he’d already done that in the morning. As much as she probably needed the extra reinforcement, he had been sorely craving some silence.

“Hey, I got a question,” Wanily said suddenly.

Andurak grunted. He shouldn’t be surprised–this was the longest Wanily had managed to keep quiet in all the time he’d known her. Even in her sleep, she snored lightly.

The crunch of snow behind him came quicker, and then Wanily was in front of him, staring up at him with her golden eyes and walking backwards. “Can you eat magical plants?”

“Watch where you’re going. You’re going to fall if you keep that up.”

Wanily huffed and turned back around, falling into step beside him. “So?”

“Some.”

“Are you going to tell me which ones?”

Andurak glanced down at her. She stared up at him expanctantly. “Why do you ask?” he drawled.

Without looking away from him, she pointed off somewhere to their left. “‘Cause there are some over there. Or it's a magical creature and it’s just not moving.” She finally whipped her head around to follow the direction of her finger. “It’s pretty small for that though, so I’m pretty sure it’s just a plant. But we’re low on food, right? And I don’t know anything about plants, and it’s the middle of winter so there’s not much growing anyway but I thought, if you can eat magical plants–”

“I get the idea.”

Wanily huffed, letting her hand fall back to her side. “So are we gonna go look or not?”

Andurak took a moment to consider it. He wanted to get to Reeve’s Rest, the town in Oavale, as quickly as possible–because Wanily was right. They were low on food, and as it stood, Andurak wasn’t even sure they’d get there without having to skip a meal or two. Or, he would skip a meal or two. Wanily would need her strength if she wanted to keep up with him.

That being said, he wasn’t even sure it would be worth the trouble. Most magical plants weren’t edible, though those that were did tend to be more filling and nutritious than any run-of-the-mill fruit or vegetable. He tried to think of what plant could be growing in the region considering the time of year and if they should bother to go grab it.

“How big does it look?” he asked her.

She squinted, her lips coming up in a purse. “I think it’s a few different things bunched together? So by themselves each thing would probably be–”she brought up her pointer finger and thumb, creating a length that was about two inches–“this big?”

Andurak grunted, thinking. It could be sunshine peppers. They were about that size and grew in cold climates. They weren’t edible, but they could be thrown into some water and made into a filling tea. Or would that be considered a broth? In any case, they could drink it and it would sate their appetites if nothing else. He’d just have to make sure Wanily didn’t try to add anything to the water as the peppers boiled–mixing in another ingredient would turn it from a simple drink to a potion and Andurak knew nothing about potion-making. Other than that the process could lead to very explosive results, and he favored keeping his soul in his body.

If nothing else, he could at least teach Wanily about whatever magical plant it ended up being. She’d have an easier time finding them in general because of her specialty, but Andurak figured it would still be best for her to know as much as he could teach her.

He nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

She grinned and bounced a few paces in front of him, her coat dragging in the thin layer of snow behind her and creating a swath of bare earth like a brown river. Andurak smirked as he followed her, just barely having to lengthen his stride to keep up with her excitement.

She led him a short distance from the road to a tiny depression in the ground. He could just barely discern the pale yellow of the peppers peeking up from the snow. They didn’t grow in stalks or bushes like normal peppers, instead growing deep underground with only the pepper itself showing–or the small, yellow flower that preceded it. For a regular person, they were usually tricky to locate.

Some people just had all the luck. Andurak didn’t resent Wanily for it though–her specialty would certainly help her in survival situations just like this one.

He bent down on one knee in the snow, digging the peppers out before Wanily could try to do the same. Anudrak had leather gloves that would combat the chill and damp–Wanily did not. She still tried to help him, but he waved her off with his other hand.

He left two of the peppers in the ground so the patch could grow back and made a mental note of the location. It could prove useful in the future to know where such a hearty food source was. Standing again, he handed one to Wanily, explaining what it was, how to prepare it, and where to leave the seeds to ensure more grew. She might not have been a member of the Wandering People, but she could still spread the seeds easily enough.

“So I can’t just eat it raw?” she asked, turning it over in her hands and running her fingers over its smooth surface. “I have to boil it or whatever?”

“But you can’t add anything else to the water,” Andurak warned, “or it would turn it into a potion.”

“You said that before. But how does that turn it into a potion?”

“Potions are made with a magical plant or parts of a magical creature, but other ingredients must be added to it to draw out the properties.” Or maybe it was to draw out specific properties? Andurak wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter either way. Neither he nor Wanily would be making potions any time soon. “It’s a dangerous practice though. If you make it incorrectly, not only could the potion end up poisoning someone, it could have any number of other effects. Including just exploding.”

Wanily blinked up at him, the pepper cradled in her hands like a baby bird. “I could explode if I drink a bad potion?”

“Well, yes, but the potion could also just explode. Just... in the pot. I’ve heard of many a potion-maker meeting their demise in such a way. It’s apparently the most common outcome from an incorrectly made potion.”

Wanily dragged her gaze back to the pepper in her hands, eyes shining. “Cool.”

Andurak wasn’t about to warrant that response with one of his own. He grunted. “Come on, then, let’s keep moving.”

Wanily stuffed the pepper in a pocket of her coat and ambled in front of Andurak. He let her, figuring she could set the pace for now and he could always push her if she slowed down too much. He wrapped the rest of the peppers he picked in some spare cloth and tucked it inside his pack to cook later when they made camp that night.

Wanily hopped past the boundary between the snowy wilderness and the packed dirt of the path, setting an adequate pace. Andurak walked a step behind her, contemplating.

“Wanily,” he called. When she glanced back at him, he nodded back in the direction they had found the peppers. “What does magic look like?”

She grinned, slightly lopsided. “It’s the coolest! Sometimes it’s like this little fire but sometimes it’s kind of... fuzzy? And sometimes it’s big and really bright, but other times it’s dim and tiny.” Andurak frowned, and she gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s hard to explain, I guess.”

He grunted. That was about as helpful an explanation as he probably should have expected. “Alright. What about the distance? You saw the sunshine peppers from quite the ways away.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I can see it from pretty far away, and I can usually see it through things, too.” She shrugged again. “Never tried to put a number to it or anything though.”

A lesser man might have grumbled at Wanily’s flippance. Andurak merely sighed.

They continued on in silence for a while, allowing Andurak to return to his thoughts. How long was he going to travel with Wanily? He was not one to turn away a child in need, but he’d gotten his experience as a survivalist over years of wandering. Could he teach someone all they needed to know in just a few weeks or months? He wasn’t sure.

Andurak relished in solitude and enjoyed the company of his own thoughts above all else. He did not hate Wanily, but she was an interruption to that. He would not abandon her in the wilderness somewhere, and she’d already professed she did not want to be saddled with some random family. She wanted to be the Archmage. Andurak had the feeling that even if he did leave her at a church in a town or city somewhere, she’d just run away and try to go somewhere she could learn magic.

And get herself killed in the process.

It was enough to make him want to sigh. He made a commitment when he agreed to take Wanily under his wing. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Ahead of him, Wanily perked up again. “Hey, I think there are some people up there.”

Andurak pulled himself from his musings and focused on the horizon and the plume of white smoke curling up from it. It was too soon to be near Reeve’s Rest. It had to be a traveling group then.

Andurak immediately grew wary. Winter brought hardship, and hardship bred desperate people. It could be bandits up ahead hoping to capture a shipment of food from the empire to Iten, but then again, that smoke would give away their location. It could be just another group of travelers. Maybe even some other Wandering People.

If that was the case, it would complicate the Wanily situation. All Andurak had asked of the universe was not to run into a family unit while he was with Wanily. Had that really been too much to ask?

He was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t know yet who this group could be. He’d be prepared for the worst, and hopefully that would be bandits that would take what few valuables he had and leave them be.

“Wanily, behind me,” he said, slipping his pack from his back and kneeling to rifle through it.

She did as ordered, eyes wide as she peered over his shoulder and into his bag. “Who do you think it is? Bandits? A marauder?”

“Those are the same thing,” Andurak muttered, pulling his blowgun and a dagger from his pack. It wasn’t much in the way of self-defense but it was better than nothing.

Wanily fisted her hands in her coat. “No, they’re not,” she said in her usual boisterous fashion, betraying none of her evident fear. She was a brave one, Andurak mused as he stood. “It’s in the name. Bandits work in bands. Marauders probably work alone. I think we could take one marauder.” She wrenched her hands away from her coat with clear effort and punched the air a couple of times, a shaky smile on her lips.

Andurak smiled back. Wanily relaxed a fraction when she saw it, her shoulders dropping from where they were bunched by her ears. “Just stay close,” he said. The last thing he needed was for her to approach with her usual bluster and potentially put herself in harm’s way.

They continued down the road, Andurak with his dagger in one hand and blowgun in the other, Wanily nearly stepping on his heels.

Well. He did tell her to stay near.

When they were closer, he could make out a large fur tent in the distance and bodies moving around it, into it, and out of it. The source of the smoke turned out to be a large campfire with some type of animal roasting over it. When Andurak and Wanily grew closer still, he could hear laughter and chatter from the group–that of men and women, but children as well.

It wasn’t impossible, but probably not bandits then. Or marauders, he thought with a roll of his eyes.

Hopefully refugees, then, those trying to escape the Northern Conflict. Not that frostbitten Iten would be any more hospitable to them than the battlefront with Vixx.

Just not more Wandering People, Andurak pleaded silently. To who, he wasn’t sure. It certainly wasn’t the gods.

Wanily tugged on the back of his coat. He grunted, not tearing his eyes away from the people flitting to and fro. “Too many for marauders,” she whispered loudly. When they drew near enough to tell such things, she added. “That food smells good.”

It did, but Andurak didn’t agree aloud. The encampment was a good half dozen yards from the road, and Andurak was perfectly content to ignore the group if they were willing to do the same. He and Wanily were certainly close enough that if they wanted to try something, they would have done so by now.

Andurak steadfastly looked ahead, trying not to give the group a reason to acknowledge him or Wanily. He, of course, could not be so lucky.

“Andurak? Andurak Lonesome?” a woman’s voice shouted.

“Hey, I think they know you,” Wanily said. Andurak only sighed and turned to meet his fate.

The group was definitely a family unit of the Wandering People. There were half a dozen adults outside the tent and probably at least another one or two inside, all of them wrapped in warm fur clothing. There were two children as well, bundled from head to toe in furs, who stopped their running and chasing when they caught sight of Andurak.

There were a few bags clustered off to the side, though the majority of their supplies were likely inside the tent. Some belongings were strewn about the camp–a couple of wooden toys for the children, a bone flute resting atop a nearby rock, and a drum by the fire. A man was sitting next to the last one, but he stood the moment the woman called out to Andurak.

Andurak wouldn’t claim to know the whole country of Windor and every Wanderer that called it home–as much as any of them had one–but he did know this group. Unfortunate that they knew him back.

“Minora Layton.” He nodded to her in greeting, not drawing any closer. Then, he grunted, a sound they probably couldn’t even hear at their distance. “Well, it was good to pass you,” Andurak called before he turned on his heel and began striding away once more.

Minora laughed. It was the only other sound Andurak heard over the crackle of their fire–not even footsteps. Wanily wasn’t following him. He turned to find her staring at the group, head cocked. He whistled, causing her to jump. She still didn’t move to catch up with him though.

“Are these more Wanderers?” she asked. “Can we ask them for food?”

Minora raised a brow at Andurak. “And who is that? Is Lonesome not so lonesome anymore?”

Nothing to it, then. Andurak wasn’t about to shout to have a conversation. He motioned for Wanily to follow and stepped up to the group. Minora remained at the front, crossing her arms as he approached. She was the head of their family unit, after all–the other adults would cede the floor to her.

“I have no family unit,” Andurak said when he would no longer have to raise his voice to be heard. “That was true at the last Gathering, and it will be true at the next.” That was still half a year out, and Andurak did not plan to still be keeping company with Wanily by then.

“And in the meantime?” Minora said, smirking.

“Come on, Minora,” the man with the drum–Yonid, her older brother–said. “Stop antagonizing the poor man and offer him and his companion some food and a place at the fire. We have enough to share.”

Minora rolled her eyes. “I was getting to that, Yonid.” Her gaze fell to Wanily. “Are you hungry, child?”

Wanily nodded, unable to tear her gaze from what Andurak now recognized to be part of a deer roasting above the fire.

“Good,” Minora said, uncrossing her arms and stepping aside. “When it is ready, eat your fill. In the meantime, why don’t you go make some friends?” She nodded to Plin and Freya, the two children in the unit. Plin was Minora’s son and Freya her niece born from her younger brother, Reed. Andurak didn’t see him among the group outside, so he must have been in the tent.

Wanily grinned. “Sure!” And with that, she bounded away to join the other children. Andurak watched Plin and Freya share a look. Several expressions flitted across the children’s faces as they held a silent conversation before Freya, the older of the two, smiled at Wanily. “You ever play Griffin?”

“Nope!” Wanily said, and that was all that Andurak heard of the conversation before the children were running off.

“Don’t go far!” Minora called, cupping her hands around her mouth. When she turned back to Andurak, she wore a devious smile. “Knocked up a Nanshee woman, then, did you?”

Andurak blanched. “I told you it’s not like that.”

She elbowed him, still smiling. “I’m just giving you shit, Lonesome. What is it like, then?”

Andurak nodded to the fire, and Minora led him to a spot that had been cleared of snow and any rocks, perfect for sitting and telling stories. Yonid left as they settled beside the warmth of the fire, ducking into the tent. Andurak heard his voice ring out, but not the words exchanged. Yonid came out of the tent the next moment, tailed by Reed and Evarin, Reed’s wife. They and the rest of the family unit gathered around the fire and looked at Andurak expectantly.

Andurak gazed at their faces, and the many that shared the same characteristics. The same small, round noses and large foreheads and freckles of varying intensity dotting their faces. Their hair colors ranged from the black of Yonid’s short but curly crop, to the pale green that framed Minora’s face. She knew a few spells, enough to be more useful than a blonde mage, and that was probably why she was the leader of the family unit over her father or mother, both who were sitting by the fire, giving Andurak their rapt attention.

Wanderers were storytellers. Most of their records were kept by word of mouth–the only thing that wasn’t were their accounts on magical creatures and plants. They shared such information with the rest of the world, so it was more imperative that it was correct and consistent.

But Andurak had always been of the opinion that storytelling should be left to the bards.

“Found her in Iten,” he said as he tucked his weapons back in his pack. “Stole some food from Mincelight and was holed up with a phoenix to keep warm. She agreed to travel with me and learn how to survive in the world on her own.”

Minora frowned, arching one brow. “You said she was with a phoenix?”

“Yes.”

Her other brow joined the first. “Are you going to expand on that, Lonesome?”

Andurak sighed, sitting forward and clasping his hands together. “It seems there is a new specialty mage walking the earth now. She says she can see magic, and I have proof enough to believe her.”

Minora gaped at him. “A new specialty mage? One that can see magic? How does that work?”

Andurak shrugged. “Her explanation wasn’t very helpful.”

Minora grunted, tapping one finger against her chin. “She was able to find a nesting phoenix with this power though, right? She was lucky it took a shine to her. I’ve heard being burned alive is a gruesome way to go.”

“Because you’ve talked to so many people who died after being burned alive.”

“Of course. But that’s besides the point.” Minora tilted her head back, her eyes reflecting the deep blue of the midday sky, almost completely erasing their brown. “What do you and your companion say to spending the night with us? We’ve got more than enough food to go around–mirth and good humor, too.” Minora grinned, then, sharp as a pixie. “All things you seem to be lacking, eh, Lonesome?”

Andurak remained nonplussed. But, Minora was right–they could use a good meal, and it would probably be good for Wanily to be around people her age, even if for a short while. He still sighed, just on principle.

“Alright,” he grumbled. “But we leave first thing in the morning. I want to get away from such frostbitten lands as quickly as possible.”

“Naturally,” Minora responded. She climbed to her feet and held her arms outstretched to either side of her as she addressed the rest of her family unit. “Hear that? We’ve got some honored guests with us tonight! Andurak Lonesome himself and a new specialty mage. Start up the drums, begin a dance, bring out the food. This is a cause for celebration!”

Andurak snorted. In all the years he’d known her, Minora had never needed an excuse to throw a party, just as Andurak had staunchly avoided them all the years he’d been alive. But he could begrudgingly attend this one if it meant he’d get enough food to fill his belly.

Yonid tugged his drum back between his legs, and as he began hammering out a steady beat, Andurak pulled out his own small drum, embellishing Yonid’s simple rhythm. Yonid grinned crookedly at him over the dancing edges of the campfire.

The younger members of the family unit jumped to their feet, following Minora’s instructions as they quickly broke into smiling groups of two or three for the coordinated dance that was meant for the heartbeat Yonid supplied. The older members splintered off from the festivities, ducking into the tent only to reemerge moments later with fresh meats, fruits, and vegetables. Andurak found his mouth watering at the thought of it.

The elders began the task of prepping the extra food, and soon enough, the beat of the drums and the dancing brought the child wandering back toward the main group. Wanily flanked the other two children, and Andurak found himself keeping one eye on her as she flicked between watching the elders prepare their food and clumsily following along with the other children as they joined the dance. Freya, and more so Plin, were the pictures of practiced grace, their steps sure and movements flowing like water. Wanily, in comparison, was more like an alan with their backward feet and jerky movements. But she was smiling and laughing, even when she would fall, so she must have been having fun.

Andurak found he was smiling despite himself and put more energy into each of his hits to his drum, playing for all he was worth.

———

It wasn’t until much later–until the food had been cooked and devoured, the dances had dwindled as feet began to ache, and the sky had darkened from blue to orange to black–that Andurak found himself once again sitting next to Minora. More tents had been brought out for those who wished to sleep, namely the children. Plin and Freya had been more than happy to share a tent with Wanily, but it wasn’t like the weighty decision Andurak had made in the previous nights. They were all but children, and Minora had sent him more than one meaningful glance as the children readied themselves for sleep.

Minora had even given Wanily Freya’s old coat when she discovered that Wanily only had that long but thin one. She gave Andurak quite the stink eye when she did so, but what was he supposed to do? He’d been with the girl all of a handful of days–hardly enough time to get her a suitable coat of her own.

And now, the children were asleep, and Yonid had produced a bottle of something that burned pleasantly with each swallow. The adults, barring a couple who had also turned in for the night so they could take watch later, sat in a haphazard circle around the fire and began to tell stories. Some were tales of the old days–the stories that survived of the early bards and pirates that roamed the earth and earned the ire of the old gods–and some were memories told for Andurak’s benefit. Plin’s first successful hunt where he took down a deer with one shot, which made Andurak’s chest flicker with warmth. Reed’s latest brush with death from when he decided to go fishing near a kappa’s den. Andurak often wondered how Reed was still alive.

Yonid began the next story, a tale of the pirate Diablo from the famous Nanshee stories. Yonid was no bard, but Andurak thought he was telling the account well enough of the time the pirate raided an underwater temple near what was present-day Leshitone. There were far less underwater temples back then, so it was more impressive. Not that there were many pirates left these days–at least, of the kind that raided the old gods’ temples.

Minora tapped him on the shoulder, pulling Andurak’s attention away from the daring escape Diablo was attempting to make as magical creatures bound to protect the temple began to attack. She flashed him a small smile and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the children’s tent.

“She’s a wild one, huh?”

Andurak smirked, nodding.

“Seems like a good kid, though. Tell me again how you stumbled on her.”

Andurak shrugged. “Right place at the right time,” he said.

“And you’re sure she’s a new specialty mage? How did you test it?”

Andurak shook his head. “She proved it earlier today. Spotted some sunshine peppers in a ditch a couple hundred feet from where we were. She couldn’t identify them, but she saw their magic and led me to them.”

Minora smiled slowly, lips stretching over crooked teeth. “This presents a unique opportunity, Andurak. You understand that, don’t you?”

Andurak stilled. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly. Minora didn’t respond immediately. “What do you want from Wanily, Layton?” Andurak pressed.

Minora smirked, but her eyes held no hint of mirth. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to trust her. She was a Wanderer, yes, and one that he had known almost as long as he’d been alive, but even the best of kin could have sinister intentions at heart.

Or maybe he was just imagining things. He knew her–had shared a fire with her and her family unit in the past. Had traded food and materials when he needed it, or they did. Andurak had helped watch over Plin at his first Gathering, rocking the babe as he slept. These people were as much his family as anyone. Whatever Minora meant, it couldn’t have been anything so sinister as he believed.

Right?

“You worry too much, Andurak,” Minora said. She gestured to seemingly nothing, or maybe to the whole world around them. “I only meant that the girl could help us find magical creatures and plants. Makes much of what we do easier, right?”

Andurak relaxed a fraction. That did bring up another issue, though. “Wanily has no interest in staying with the Wandering People.”

“A shame,” Minora said readily. “But no harm in asking her, is there?”

“Asking her what?”

“To join my family unit.” Minora looked at him like she was suddenly doubting his intelligence. “She’s sharing a tent with my child and broken bread over my fire. Unless you do want to keep the girl around until the next Gathering.”

“I already told you–she’ll be on her way by then.”

Minora grunted, a smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t we talk in some more privacy?” She looked around the fire, raising her voice. “Is everyone alright with me and Andurak retiring for the night?”

There was a spattering of assent from the group around the fire. Minora nodded to the tent, and Andurak slowly picked himself up to step in after her, each footfall accentuated by the rise and fall of Yonid’s voice.

The majority of their supplies were in the structure, just as Andurak thought. There were weapons to the right–swords, bows and arrows in quivers, and even a spear with an intricately carved shaft that Andurak was half-certain belonged to Minora herself. Beyond that, however, were the more mundane items needed for a travelling caravan: foods that keep for long weeks, cooking utensils, bundled bedrolls made from thick furs, and many more effects tucked from view into the numerous packs in the tent.

Minora undid the string holding the flap to the tent open, offering them a modicum of privacy. Still, those by the fire sitting closest to them would probably hear anything they said if they raised their voice at all.

Andurak crossed his arms and appraised Minora as she stepped further into the tent, rubbing her bare hands together. When she caught his gaze, she offered a smile. “It sure is cold in Iten, isn’t it?”

“We’re in Oavale.”

Minora shrugged. “Close enough that it’s either, though, isn’t it?”

Andurak hardly agreed, but he wasn’t about to waste the breath to say as such. He just waited, and eventually, Minora sighed.

“Andurak, you’re a good sort.” Minora clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace back and forth in the cramped space, slowly, like each step was a consideration. “You know, I actually had quite the affection for you when we were younger.”

Andurak felt his brow rise in surprise. “You did?” he asked. Then, he frowned. “You’re married, Minora. You’ve brought child into this world.”

Minora nodded, watching each of her careful steps. “I hardly feel the same way anymore–Harthon holds that place in my heart now. But it is embarrassing to look back on.” Minora’s smile twisted to something closer to a grimace. She stopped her pacing and laughed. “Everyone knew, you know. Reed teased me endlessly about it. I remember your parents–they told me to tell you. Said they’d be honored to welcome me to their family unit, or glad to see you find one to join. We were only teenagers then, but you were already talking about your bold plans to face the world alone, and I think they were fearful for you.”

“There a point to all this, Minora?” Andurak failed to see how this had anything to do with the girl currently running around outside with Minora’s own child. He knew his parents had wanted him to join another family unit or at least form his own. He hadn’t known about Minora’s affections, but that was all in the past, wasn’t it?

“Ouch,” she said, her smile growing. “Let me finish, alright? There was one day–I remember it pretty vividly, actually–where I was all ready to tell you. I had rehearsed what I was going to say for hours. I would march right up to you and say, ‘Andurak, I wish to wander with you, forever and ever, even if that should lead us both to the mists of Gehenna. Won’t you court me?’”

Andurak couldn’t help but snort.

Minora moved close enough to punch him none too lightly in the shoulder. “Oh, hush you. I was young and in love, alright? You certainly weren’t going to court me all on your own. But,” she sighed, drawing away again, her smile dropping from her face like a stone into a well, “I could never work up the courage. And then, at the next Gathering, you were traveling alone and Harthon begged to court me, and that was that.

“I do bring all this up for a reason, Andurak.” Minora gazed intently at him, seemingly giving him time to respond.

Andurak found he had to keep himself from fidgeting. He was not the kind to get rattled, he reminded himself. Whatever Minora wanted, he would not entertain her need for the dramatic.

Eventually, Minora huffed. “Not going to ask me what that reason is?”

“No. You’ll tell me.”

“You never were one to indulge others, huh?” She smiled, resuming her slow, measured pacing. Back forth, from the packs nestled at one end of the tent to the weapons at the other and back again. “I don’t regret the way my life turned out, Andurak, but I do wonder, sometimes, if a life with you would have been better than the one I lead now. I wonder if I would be happier if I had simply seen the changes that were happening around me, and I wonder if I could have benefited if I had simply acted instead of letting things happen to me.”

Andurak frowned. “And what changes do you see before you now, Minora?” And what did they have to do with him and Wanily?

“All of it,” she murmured. “We’re standing on sand, Andurak, and the world is in the worst earthquake we’ve ever seen. You know what they say about the Wandering People? They call us murderers. Once, it was only because lazy bandits would go masquerading as one of our kind to take advantage of people and strike when their guards were down. Now, it’s worse. Plague rats. Disease-addled pigs. Necro bugs. Those are about the nicest things I’ve been called in recent memory.”

“It doesn’t matter what others call you, Minora. Only what you answer to.”

“But you’ve seen it!” Minora whirled to face him, her hands thrown down in front of her, palms up, imploring. “They hate us! And they’ve got good reason to. We may not have been responsible for the Necroplauge, but we certainly didn’t help.”

“None of us knew. We can’t be blamed for following what we thought was right.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Andurak.” Minora sighed, turning her back to him and bowing her head. “We might not have known better, but the actions of the Wandering People did help to spread the Necroplague. That’s blood on our hands.”

Andurak grimaced. He didn’t completely disagree with her–the regions most affected at the beginning of the Necroplague had been the places that Wandering People congregated most. Because they did help to spread the spores of the Necro Algae when traveling from place to place. Some members had known and encouraged others to spread the plant–it was newly discovered in an old temple and many had felt it was the duty of the Wandering People to reintroduce it into the world. Other members had spread it unwittingly when the spores clung to their belongings as they moved from place to place. No one had known the sickness it caused, not until everyone started falling ill. But to that effect, Minora was right. The Wandering People did help spread the disease.

They had only done what they believed to be right, though. And once the source of the disease was understood to be the Necro Algae, most of the Wandering People had stopped traveling outside of Windor. The ones that still did went to the regions affected most by the plague to help the relief and research efforts.

Most of those ones had perished.

“We did what we could to make up for it,” Andurak said. “If others blame us for the Necroplague, then they are foolish. It would have spread with or without us.”

Minora shook her head without turning around. “We made a mistake that got people killed. We didn’t do enough to make up for it.”

Andurak didn’t like where the conversation was going. “And what more do you suggest we do?”

Minora raised her head enough to glance over her shoulder at him. “You say Wanily can see magic,” she said. “That means she can see magical creatures.”

Andurak remained silent. He really didn’t like where this was going.

“I said it before–you’re a good sort, Andurak. For all that you like to remain alone, you like to help others, too. That’s all my unit is trying to do.”

“How?”

Minora took a deep breath and said, “By providing raw goods for potions.”

Andurak scowled, balling his hands into fists. “You mean you’re out here killing magical creatures?” The very beings they were supposed to revere and protect?

“Frost lion claws make very potent potions to help resist the cold.” Minora reached forward, grasping her spear and spinning to face Andurak. Her posture was lax, spear standing at her side like a walking stick, but the fact she gripped her weapon at all told Andurak what he needed to know. His hand strayed toward his pack, but he knew he would never be able to get his weapons out in time to meet hers. If it came to blows, he was stuck with just his fists.

“Wanily can see magic. I’m not about to let another opportunity slip between my fingers.” Minora adjusted her grip on her weapon, fingers wrapping around the wooden shaft of the spear. “The Wandering People are in a unique situation. The world is clamoring for more potion ingredients, and we’re by far the most knowledgeable about magical creatures. We can hunt them, and not only we will make good money, but we might be able to atone for our sins, too. Wanily can help us with that, don’t you think?”

Andurak bristled. “You’d go against everything we believe in. Everything. I should drag you and the rest of your unit back to Windor and inform the elders of your blasphemy.”

Minora sighed. “And here I was hoping I could convince you to stand with us. You really are probably the best of us at this stuff, Andurak. But Wanily will be coming with me and my family, one way or another.”

Andurak eyed the pile of weapons, trying to determine if he could reach one before Minora would be able to land a hit on him. “And you’re going to–what? Force her to help you?”

“Well, first I’ll ask her. But I think I have a way of ensuring that she’ll say yes.”

Minora was looking at him meaningfully, and Andurak wanted to say it wouldn't matter. That he and Wanily had known each other for only a few days and that the girl would sooner run and leave him to a cruel fate than do anything out of fear of what would happen to him. It's what most people would do. Especially a child.

But Wanily wanted to help people. Andurak had no doubt in his mind that if Minora threatened him, Wanily would do whatever she could to protect him.

It wasn't right. Children shouldn't be the ones to protect adults. Andurak should be the one protecting Wanily from the people that wanted to take advantage of her, but instead he would be the one putting her in jeopardy.

“And just how long do you think that will work? Are you going to keep me prisoner until the next Gathering? What then?”

Minora faltered, but a smile quickly took over her features again. “By the time we reach the next Gathering, I plan to appeal to the elders. Do you know how much money and acclaim we could garner in the next few years? And do you really think the elders would turn down such an easy path out of poverty?”

“Which is it, then?” Andurak snarled. “Are you trying to do the right thing or just line your pockets?”

“It can be both, Lonesome.” Minora took a step forward, but Andurak refused to be intimidated enough to cower back. “All I’m saying is that if we used our knowledge to hunt magical creatures, we could create a better future for the Wandering People. More prosperous, less hostility.”

“Do what you want, Minora,” Andurak snapped. “But do not call yourself a Wandering Person at the end of it. And leave Wanily out of it.”

Minora’s smile didn’t slip this time. She merely tilted her head to the side and leveled the point of her spear at Andurak’s chest. “I can’t do that, Andurak.”

“Can’t?”

“Won’t,” Minora conceded, the metal tip of her spear never wavering. “She represents too great an opportunity. So, Yonid will bind your hands and feet, you will stay here tonight, and in the morning, I will ask Wanily to help us. And if she says no, you will help me convince her otherwise.”

Andurak could try to fight this. He might be able to overpower Minora, get the spear away from her and take her hostage. But–he wouldn’t be able to make good on any threats toward her or any of her family unit. If he was a different man–a man more willing to hurt others to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves–he would be able to get him and Wanily out of here.

But he knew these people. Had laughed with them countless times in the past, eaten with them, traded with them–he didn’t think, pressed even with a threat toward himself, that he would ever be able to seriously hurt any of them. It wasn’t fair to Wanily, who wasn’t a member of their group or familiar with any of these people, but it was simply the truth.

Andurak looked from the point of Minora’s spear to her unrelenting smile and back again. And he just knew. Even with a weapon aimed at his heart, he wouldn’t be able to turn his own against someone that was like a sister to him.

Funny, then, that she was able to do it to him.

“Yonid!” Minora called, never taking her eyes off Andurak. “Come here, would you?”

Andurak breathed in and out, steadily, tracking the rustling movement on the other side of the tent’s flap as Yonid got up and began moving away from the fire. The moment Yonid began peeling the tent flap back, Andurak lunged. With one arm he shoved Minora’s spear away from him and dove for the open space between Yonid and the edge of the tent. Minora let out a sharp cry, but Andurak was faster than the surprised Yonid and managed to knock Yonid down with another push. The man immediately kicked out, trying to trip Andurak, but he managed to bound outside of the man’s reach.

“Wanily!” Andurak shouted. The others around the fire were swiftly moving toward him, and Yonid was scrambling to his feet from a pace behind him. He could hear Minora, too, cursing and stomping out after him. There was no way Andurak would be able to escape them, but that seemed infinitely less important than getting Wanily away from them. “Wanily, wake up! Run!”

Someone tackled Andurak’s legs, toppling the both of them to the half-frozen ground. He grunted in pain, kicking out against his assailant, but someone else knelt on top of him, digging their knee into his back and squeezing the air from his lungs. Andurak kept his gaze on the tent just a handful of paces away from him. He tried to call out again, but someone above him forced a length of cloth into his mouth and yanked it back, pulling his chin off the ground as they knotted it along the back of his head.

The last thing Andurak saw was the flap of the tent ahead of him curling back and a half-asleep Wanily groggily looking out. When she saw Andurak on the ground, her eyes widened to the size of full moons and her mouth opened, presumably to shout something, but Andurak didn’t get to hear whatever she was going to say before Minora brought the butt of her spear down on Andurak’s temple and all he knew was darkness.