The pair ate in silence, picking apart the white flesh of the fish until only the bones and heads remained. Rock wrapped those in some waxen leaves to make into a broth later, and tended the fire, reducing it to softly crackling embers. Small moths fluttered around it, dancing to the glow. The stars were out now, and the moon, casting cool white light over the trees and trickling waters of the river. Even the rushing of the waterfall seemed to have quietened with the onset of night. Caw’s eyelids became heavy, and she dozed, resting her head on her knees. It had been a long day. And the poison bite of the darts had left her with a throbbing head, and her vision hazy. Eating had helped a little with the nausea, but not enough, and her limbs sat heavy as stone. Before she realised, Rock had lifted her up and was carrying her back inside the mouth of the cave. He laid her down onto the bed and covered her once more with the cloak.

“Rest Caw,” he said, “I will keep watch tonight.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off.

She woke to find Rock next to her, fast asleep.

“Useless,” she whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He stirred for a moment and grumbled. She smiled. All that worry must have been tiring.

Pink light crept into the cave mouth, bringing with it the warmth of dawn. Caw shifted her weight and tried to sit up, but her arms felt numb and heavy as marble. She tried moving her legs. No response. A panic rose in her throat.

“Rock,” she whispered, nudging against him with her shoulder.

He stirred and opened his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t move my legs,” she said.

Rock sat up with a jolt and pulled away the cloak.

“Rock!” Caw protested.

“Would you prefer we wait for a doctor?”

“I see your point.”

He untied the ankle cords of her trousers and lifted the fabric. His face paled.

“This is bad.”

Caw grimaced and forced herself to sit up. “What is it?”

She looked down at her legs and gasped. The skin was taut and swollen, a furious shade of red. Blisters flowered across them, from her ankles to her knees.

“It’s got to be the poison,” Rock said, his eyes dark and hooded. “I’ve never seen this before, though.”

“I can’t feel them,” whispered Caw, eyes wide. “Do you still have the darts?”

“Yes… You know what this means, don’t you?”

Caw nodded gravely. “Oak’s not going to be pleased, is she.”

“No. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have you confined to bed for a month. You know how she worries.”

“You’re just like her.”

Rock tutted. “Stop being so cavalier about this, Caw. What if this isn’t something we can fix? What if it’s-”

“It’s not,” said Caw. “They wouldn’t be so wasteful.”

Rock replaced the fabric, tying the cords loosely. He tried to replace her boots, but her feet were too swollen.

“It will take a day to get home,” he muttered. “Even with my speed.”

He clucked his tongue in annoyance as he packed up the gear, whispering false curses under his breath, as if he delighted in complaining about something. As much as he grumbled and fussed, he secretly enjoyed the chance to use his gifts. Caw knew the cold kiss of air on his face thrilled him, and that he relished the opportunity to test his endurance.

He wrapped the cloak around Caw and lifted her onto his back. “I’ll have to tie you to me if we’re going to get to the Anquan before nightfall.”

“That’s fine.”

“You’ve really done it this time, you know that?”

“I know.”

Rock ran. The landscape quickly changed from forest to grasslands, with rolling hills crashing against each other like waves on the horizon. Caw clutched the hood against her face and tried to ignore the now growing ache in her legs. The hills grew in height, stretching towards the sky, grey and snow speckled. As they reached the desert of the Anquan, the ground beneath them softened. Rock sped on, leaping over clumps of rocks, spraying sand underneath his feet. A bird shrieked from somewhere nearby and he slowed, glancing towards it.

“Just a buzzard,” yelled Caw, her voice carrying over the breeze. Rock nodded and continued on.

As the sun began its descent, the Anquan rose on the horizon to greet it, the white marble of its remaining spire glittering golden in the waning light. Shamo Anquan, the last city of the desert kingdom. Once a vast capital, a statement of wealth and power beyond compare, now a collection of crumbling ruins and tents surrounding an ancient oasis. A remnant. A rotting heap of bleached bones. The brilliant white marble of the towers and spires had faded and blistered in the sun, their gold filigree long stolen over the centuries; chipped away by travellers, and the now extinct bedouin clans. Endless spans of farmlands and irrigation swept into the desert. Instead of a city stood the last refuge of the Pachon tribe. According to Oak, the Senlin had discovered its remains long before her time and settled there. How, and why, Oak had never disclosed. The history of her people, just like the city, had been lost to the sands.

Camels lazed in their corrals outside of the city walls, contentedly chewing hay as their carers brushed them down. Someone climbed onto a bale of hay and waved as Rock and Caw passed. The great gates creaked open to welcome them home. Oak stood behind them, her face solemn. Rock slowed, stopping at the threshold of the city wall.

“We -” he started, but Oak held up a hand.

“I know. The trees talk,” she replied. “Follow me, we will need to act fast.”

With that she turned on her heel, her pace brisk as she walked through the narrow street towards the spire. Rock followed obediently. People emerged from their shanty tents as Rock passed to say a brief hello. The street leading up to the spire was all stone, cut and arranged in pattern, flat and ill fitting for feet. The buildings sat huddled together, yellow and dusty looking as the desert itself. Children used their walls to draw bright chalk murals of flowers and dancing, camels and stars. Out of the arched windows hung long sheets of dyed silk in every colour. Music played from some of the others, and people chatted loudly to each other, bickering over something Caw couldn’t quite hear. She half paid attention to the sounds, her aching back and wind bitten face stealing the rest of it. When they reached the spire, three women in robes rushed from a doorway to meet them, untying Caw from Rock’s back to lay her on a board and carry her up the stairs. She rolled her eyes and waved at Rock before disappearing from view.

Oak turned to him, her face passive. “Did you keep the dart?”

“How did you know?”

“The trees talk.”

Rock pulled the darts from his satchel, handing them over to Oak. She mused over one, lifting it with her fingertips.

“I wish you would stop spying on me,” said Rock. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“A mother is allowed to worry, is she not?” Oak replied, her eyes still on the dart. “Besides, it looks like I had reason to.”

“What is it?”

Oak held the dart close to her face and sniffed. “Something new. I have never seen this before. How many hunters this time?”

“Three men of what I could see, and a hound.”

“Did you kill it?”

“Caw took its throat. There was no time to get samples.”

“Very well. I will do what I can. Go home, I will send for you when she is ready.”

“But -” Rock started.

Oak waved him off. “You know the law. Only women may enter here. And if I recall, my son, you left your womanhood behind.”

Rock stormed away, grumbling under his breath. There was no point in arguing with her.

-

Caw lay on the bed, back sore and legs numb, and stared at the blank, sandstone ceiling. The room was round, wide, and filled with heavily laden shelves. Glass phials filled with herbs and ceramic bowls jostled for space on a large stone table in the centre. An old moth bitten tapestry hung above the doorway. Faint orange light filtered in through an open arch carved into the brickwork, illuminating the dust as it swirled through the air. Caw wondered if the people of Hendu had open arches still, or if their houses were windowed like those of the north. The acolytes fussed around her, one boiling herbs over a stove, the other mixing crushed nettles and thick white camel fat. As if those would make any difference. Caw already knew the poison would wear off in time. The Senlin were far too useful to the Shen, alive and able-bodied. To cripple or kill her would make no sense. Still, this poison was different. Perhaps they had found a new mix, some new creature with stronger venom. Maybe this was an allergic reaction. Wondering would do little to help, about as much as the ointments.

“It’s to ease the swelling,” said Oak from the doorway.

Caw jumped and sat up. “Was my disdain that obvious?”

“For one so skilled in the art of concealment, you are terrible at hiding your emotions,” replied Oak, stepping into the room.

“There’s no point mixing up ointments,” said Caw. “This will wear off soon enough, it always does.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Oak lifted the dart to the window, slowly twirling it in her fingers. “This is a venom I have not seen before.”

Caw remained silent, her eyes on the dart.

“Rock said they had a hound with them,” Oak continued. “What kind was it?”

“Fire.”

“You’re sure?”

“It set half the woods alight, nearly burned myself stamping it out.”

Oaks eyebrows lowered, and she hummed in annoyance. “That is troubling.”

“It’s just a stronger mix, Oak, they wouldn’t properly poison us, surely.”

Oak sighed. “As our numbers diminish, they get more desperate. It is dangerous to make assumptions, especially now. Remember, Caw, heaven is high.”

Caw lowered her eyes. “And our people are far away.”