Having kept up a steady pace all day despite the weight of his stolen armour (the baker, Gettan, kindly carried the sword and Farkin the shield), when Marcus suggested they make camp while there still was some light he felt there was a shared sense of relief among all his companions. They had been hurrying north west, just inside the treeline of the large forest into which Marcus had crashed, what, less than a month ago? It felt as though he’d been on the planet for several months, his old life in the cottage back on Earth merely a dream.

Although there were eight of them, there was enough bread that after settling down and eating no one went hungry. Water, unfortunately, was another matter. Thanks to Farkin and one of the men that Marcus didn’t know, they had two containers with water – a hideskin bag and a stoppered jug – but after just four mouthfuls each it was nearly gone. Still, the stream that Marcus and Sina had discovered was less than a day away. And perhaps they could find another.

While most of the escapees, Marcus included, lay back on bracken after their meal of fresh bread, the strong man who had attacked the guard stayed on his feet, searching for something… logs. For a fire? No, these were staves, thick and heavy and about a metre long. Perfect as a weapon.

‘Sit in a circle,’ the man said and then waited patiently until everyone had done as he asked. He was a little under Marcus’s height but had a bulkier torso and wider shoulders. His black hair was long and tied back in a ponytail. There were tattoos on each of his arms near the shoulder: dark blue rings with complex patterns, as though he were wearing lapis bracelets with repetitive designs of triangles, swirls and stars. For a while Marcus was caught up in consideration of how he might recreate such a design, then he noticed that the man was smiling at him and looked away.

‘Here,’ with a thud, the man dropped a heavy stave by Marcus and continued around the circle, distributing them. ‘There are raptors in this forest. And wolves. We have to set guards during the night.’

Carmella picked up her stave and tested it by letting the far end hit the ground a few times. She seemed to have no difficulty with the weight of the stave, perhaps because of her having to lift heavy items in the pottery workshop. ‘Introductions.’ She suddenly looked up from under her grey fringe. ‘I’m Carmella. I am from the Jaranisians. I was kidnapped by a trader from Ark Andulan. I had a quest to escape and go home but a month ago it changed to escape and join a new tribe.’

No one else spoke until Carmella gave Farkin a nudge. ‘I’m Farkin. I was of the Guhma, but they said I would never be a useful soldier and sold me to be a slave of the Ark Andulan. I have a quest to escape and join a new tribe.’

The man with the tattoos and ponytail squatted down and looked around. ‘Salawa the Grim. Red Moon Tribe. My quest is to escape and return home.’

Red Moon Tribe? A cannibal. Trying not to stare, Marcus studied the man again. He was strong and there was no question that if it came to a fight, this man could overpower Marcus. Suddenly, his sense of shared comradeship with the people around him disappeared. This could turn dangerous.

One of the bakers was next, one of the young women, Rosemary. She had been born in Three Towers and her quest was to escape and find a new tribe. Beside Rosemary was her – slightly older and prettier – sister Jasmine. Jasmine too had only ever known the Ark Andulan tribe. Gettan, the older baker, was grinning broadly as he looked around the circle and introduced himself. He was from a tribe that Marcus hadn’t heard of before, the Galgor, who were much further to the south. Just when it seemed that Gettan was going to mention his quest he checked himself, flushed red and shook his head.

When Marcus was sure Gettan was finished, he said, ‘I’m Marcus. I’m from a new tribe, the Fins, not far from here. I’ve a number of quests including one to rescue Kanagaran slaves. I met two held in the same pen as me before we were sold and I promised I would free them.’

‘You’re the pot maker…’ said Jasmine.

Marcus smiled at her. 'I am so.'

‘And I,’ interjected the man to Marcus’s right, ‘I am Arderlee, one of the Kanagarans. The quest that God has given me is to rescue more of my people.’ The dark-haired man had his legs crossed in front of him, which had the effect of displaying the boots he had stolen from the unconscious soldier.

‘Oh,’ said Marcus, and for lack of anything else coming to mind, added, ‘welcome.’

‘The Ark Andulan are weak. Now that I have lived among them I have learned how weak they are and I despise them.’ This was Salawa from the Red Moon Tribe. ‘My people will destroy them. Then all the slaves will be free.’

To be eaten, Marcus was tempted to add.

The two sisters had been whispering. Then the younger one, Rosemary, called out to Marcus. ‘We want to join your tribe. The Fins.’ For some reason her face suddenly formed a smile of genuine amusement, perhaps at the name of Marcus’s tribe.

‘As do I, because you are a true artist,’ said Carmella. If she had looked up, Marcus would have given her an appreciative smile but she kept her head turned away, perhaps out of shyness. ‘And Farkin will come too. Won’t you lad?’

‘I suppose so,’ the youth gave a shrug.

‘What kind of values do the Fins have?’ asked Gettan.

‘Values?’ replied Marcus.

‘Do you worship gods? Believe in slavery? Human sacrifice? Using whips to make your people work harder?’

A chuckle welled up from deep inside Marcus, even though the question was a serious one. But the thought of Sina with whips and slaves was absurd. And the fact that Marcus was laughing probably did more to reassure Gettan than any promise he might have made. ‘No, no, nothing like that. We are small…’ he didn’t want to admit to how small in front of potential enemies … ‘and work together as a team. You’ll be very welcome. We don’t have much though. Life will be hard.’

‘But free,’ observed Carmella to murmurs of approval.

It was difficult not to keep looking towards Salawa. The cannibal’s presence was a constant pull on Marcus’s attention. The shadows of the forest were deepening and Marcus couldn’t make him out properly any more. If the Red Moon warrior was a painting it would be one like Malevich’s Black Square, one where the longer you looked at the pale lines against a near-black background, the more your imagination created depth and beings who were not actually present. It made Marcus uneasy.

A voice suddenly came out of those shadows. ‘Tomorrow, then. You six go to the Fins, I will return home and Arderlee can go to the sea.’

Arderlee, the Kanagaran who had followed them out of the town, shook his head. ‘I’ll come with you Marcus, if I may. If my people come to trade with you, I’ll be able to re-join them safely. In the meantime I will work for my food and the protection of your tribe.’

‘You may, of course. Thank you Arderlee.’ Marcus hesitated, then voiced a concern that had been growing in his thoughts. ‘But before we leave the vicinity of Three Towers, should we consider raiding the fields and trying to free more slaves? I’m thinking of the two from Kanagara, of course, but perhaps there is such confusion there we can achieve a lot. Perhaps even rescue that poor girl in the cage.’

‘She died yesterday,’ said Salawa. ‘And whatever arguments they are having right now, the Ark Andulan will all agree on one point: they do not want any slaves to escape. They will resolve their differences to chase us and anyone else who ran. Perhaps they already have and are on our trail. It is better I return to my people and we bring a full war party here.

‘You Fins should join us as allies in that battle. I can speak for my tribe and I offer you a share of the spoils in proportion to the number of fighters you bring.’

Sina. Marcus. Carmella. Farkin. Rosemary. Jasmine. Gettan. Not much of an army. With his stolen chainmail hauberk and metal helm, Marcus might look the part of a soldier but he had no idea how to fight with a sword. ‘Thank you Salawa. When we return to our base, I’ll put your offer to the whole tribe.’ He didn’t like misleading the newcomers by giving them the impression the Fins were more powerful than they really were. But it would surely be a big mistake to allow the Red Moon Tribe an insight into how weak they actually were.

Perhaps it was the mention of the girl in the cage, but a sombre silence settled over the group and when night proper filled the forest with darkness Marcus felt no desire to talk either. He did, however, search among the fallen branches and feel the shape and texture of the wood. Some were suggestive of birds, others fish, or eels. What he wanted, however, he found at last in long strips of bark peelings that had an almost plastic quality.

The morning was damp and even though it was high summer a cool breeze made Marcus shiver. After walking for an hour, though, he was warm again and found that he was experiencing growing anxiety about Sina. The thought of seeing her again filled him with pleasure, but in the twenty-four days he’d been a slave a lot could have happened at their small base. Had she survived or fallen victim to a predator, whether human or animal?

Ahead of him, Salawa called a halt. The Red Moon warrior came over to Marcus, right arm extended. Somewhat clumsily, Marcus copied the grip as Salawa grasped him at the elbow. ‘This is where I leave you. Mark well this area and look for a Red Moon warrior party here at the next full moon. If I know my people, they will march in strength at my report.’

‘I will. And Salawa, I have a gift for you.’ Marcus passed over the sculpture he had made during the night. Considering fashioned by touch alone, it was pretty successful. He’d made a ring from the bark that was an exact copy and size of the collar used by the Ark Andulan for leading their slaves. At the buckle, however, the wood entering like a strap transformed into a blade, like that of a spear tip, and was on the cusp of forcing the sides of the buckle to tear, evoking a feeling of imminent freedom.

There was a gasp from behind him, but Marcus was watching the Red Moon warrior whose eyes became moist and whose mouth made an O shape, as tough about to speak, though he made no sound.

‘I thought it would remind you of our escape and especially when you struck down the guard. And remind you of us too, your comrades and friends.’ Having faced his fear of this man and his tribe, Marcus had fashioned the sculpture in the hope of reinforcing whatever bond might have been created by their shared escape.

Dropping to one knee, holding the bark design in both hands raised high, Salawa bowed his head. ‘This is a treasure and I am honoured. I am ashamed I have no gift for you, nor could I ever have one of such value.’

‘Your gift was our freedom. And that is beyond value.’

Pleased with Marcus’s response and clearly even more pleased with his gift, Salawa was visibly moved. He stood and bowed several times before at last turning to lope away.

After the Red Moon warrior was safely out of hearing Marcus turned to the others. “I didn’t want to admit it in front of Salawa, because his tribe are cannibals, but there is only one other person in the Fins tribe, a woman called Sina.’

‘Just one?’ Gettan was shocked. Understandably.

‘My apologies. I quite understand if you want to change your plans.’

‘Not I.’ Carmella held his eyes. ‘You are blessed. When I watch you work, I feel the presence of the divine. It’s like this,’ she gestured now, to indicate everything, ‘is just shadows but through your hands, the light pours into the world.’

How strange, thought Marcus, as the others nodded, that for decades on Earth he had told himself he did not need the validation of others. And he had kept away from galleries, or worse, social media. Yet now, the words of a stranger on an even stranger planet made him want to weep.