The suns were beginning to set as Soren walked between her mother and father to the center of town. The noise coming from the crowd could be heard all over the small town of Cottonwood. Soren and her parents followed the torches placed along the main road. There were perhaps two hundred people pressed close together where the wagons had been moved into a half circle at the end of the main road out of town. Though relatively small, Soren had never seen so many people in one place at one time in her life. She couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as they approached the crowd. Shouts of wonder and laughter moved through the mass. To Soren, the people of Cottonwood appeared to have become one entity. Someone had splashed thinned paint of deep red and pale green throughout the town. Huge blotches of contrasting colors could be seen up and down the main road. Soren noticed that most of the people in the crowd had also apparently been the target of these paintings. As they approached Soren caught something moving fast along the side and from behind them. She didn’t have time to avoid the huge splash of deep red that hit all three of them. Dazed as they all were, she also missed the pale green coming in from the other side.

“aahhhkk” she said, spitting out a tasteless watery mixture. She looked furiously about trying to wipe her face clear of the color. Her anger swelled unexpectedly; couldn’t they see that her father was hurt! She looked furiously about trying to find the assailants. Then she heard the laughter. Confused she looked up at her mother and father. Her mother was using her dirty shirt to wipe a huge blot of red off her father’s face. He had thinned paint dripping off his entire face. Despite herself, Soren couldn’t help her face cracking into a grin. Then they were all laughing, Soren flinging droplets of paint at her mother. Soren saw her mother and father lost for a moment, like a streak of light coming in from a cloudy day. Their light and brevity flitted over the three of them. Just as quickly, it was gone. Dolors face resumed its granite stature, her mother straightened her back and took her husbands hand. The two shared a look Soren couldn’t identify and they walked on in silence.

As they made their way to the back of the crowd, Soren could just make out the tops of the actors heads. Though she could easily hear them. She jumped, momentarily seeing the face of the huge man she had bumped into earlier. He was wearing a light tan wig and had his face painted a dark shade like her own. She didn't understand and the confusion brought back the anger again. He looked remarkably like one of the Yunadaya and Soren's stomach dropped. All eyes seemed to turn towards her and her mother. The actor had sense enough to look embarrassed for a moment before continuing. Soren saw her mother scowl darkly at the show as the heads turned back to the stage. Soren stared into the actors eyes, once pale blue and now the light tan color of her own. Soren’s father saw her trying to jump to see the play and frowned. He tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to follow. Dolor lead them straight through the crowd.

Soren couldn’t help but smile as her father pushed his way through the packed crowd with his good arm. People turned angrily towards him, then seeing his injured arm and Soren in tow, smiled and parted amiably. Soren thought the people of Cottonwood were being unusually kind to them but the thought was quickly lost as she heard the titters and murmurs behind them. As they approached, Soren saw who the large man was bowing to. A rail thin man stood with a sour look on his face. His face too was painted, though white and with the distinct difference of two additional sets of eyes. The extra sets of eyes were painted above and below his actual eyes.

“ –y kingdom is lost Good Knight. I am the last of our kind. Please, Enki’s whim is for me to wander this world forever. And wander I have! Yet, I am left with nothing. Always, nothing. The land itself groans in protestation of my existence and I am set upon by monsters from every angle. I can never rest. Please Good Knight, my devotion to Enki is absolute, yet I fear soon I will succumb to my fate!”

“Dream-Walker, I am humbled to see such a one as you in this desolate land. Alas, I have nothing that would help one as you. Surely one of the dream creatures would be a better shelter to you? This is the waking world and our medicines and aids are made of living things and are for us alone. I fear they would be of little help to one such as you.”

“Alas Good Knight, I am Dream-Walker no more, cursed as I am to walk this waking world on my own two feet. Enki has caste me and my brothers and sisters out. None survived the journey to this world save me.” The man with three sets of eyes looked mournful as he said this and Soren felt herself immediately being sucked into the unfamiliar story. She sensed Caracara in her mind as the Dream-Walker spoke. The Huella -Cull said,

“First, The Dream-Walkers are a myth. They don't exist. If they did, I'd have seen them by now. I knew a couple Huella-Cull that disguised themselves as Dream-walkers but that's it. Second, Enki doesn't kick anyone out of his Realm not even Huella-Cull. I mean look at me." Soren instead turned her attention back to the actors on stage. She'd apparently missed something important. The big man dressed as a Yunadaya was saying,

“Dream-Walker, I will take this burden from you. Though I know not where I could possibly keep such a thing safe! Please, if I cannot hide this thing, I too will be hunted forever by these monsters!”

“Good Knight of the Yunadaya, I am sorely lacking for power in this world. I cannot do as much as I’d like to protect you. There is one thing I can do. Though it is grave and you may not survive, I believe it is your best chance.”

“Stranger, our people have always been friends to the Dream-Walkers and you have always treated us with honor. If you believe this is the surest way to safely keep the Ochre, I will do this.”

“Then lay down good knight.” At the mention of Ochre, Soren’s heart jumped. She watched as the Dream-Walker placed his hands on the big mans temple. He lay down and the Dream-Walker placed a cover over him and said,

“Sleep Good Knight but do not enter into Enki’s house, for I am not sure he’d let you leave were you to enter.” The big man nodded and said,

“Do what you must Dream-Walker yet never forget what my people, the Yunadaya have done for you this night.” The Dream-walker faced the audience and said,

“This Dream Gem shall protect your people for all times. May it ever give you good fortune in this and the dreaming world.” With that he lifted the cover from the old mans chest. It had somehow looked bumpier now to Soren. The Dream-Walker lifted a smooth stone painted green. Soren knew it looked nothing like real Ochre and inwardly scoffed at the re-enactment. She watched as the Dream-Walker weaved his hand through the bumpy torso of the big man, shoving the green gem deep into his chest. Soren knew that the giant of a man was safe, the chest obviously fake from this close. Thinking of this she suddenly realized she had real Ochre in her pocket right now! A strange compulsion to reach into her pocket and grasp the gem overcame her. She looked down as she put her hand into her pocket and could see small green glints of light coming out of her pocket lining. Luckily with the setting suns and everyone’s attention on the stage, no one noticed the pulsing soft light coming from her. With a force of will she let go of the warm gem and took her hand out of her pocket turning her attention once again to the Dream-Walker as he said,

“Arise good Knight. My work is done. You are a friend of the Dream-Walkers. If our people ever do manage to return we won’t forget what you have done for us.” The big man rose a bit awkwardly. From close up, Soren could see the trap door he had gone into though she suspected from any further away it would look real enough. As he got to his feet the giant man said,

“The Good Knight kept the Ochre safe in his bosom for the rest of his life. It is said that somewhere out in the Deep Desert, an old man sits, resting somewhere between this waking world and the dreaming world. Waiting for someone to retrieve the stone from his chest so he can be free to find his people once again. Thank you all for going on this journey with us tonight! We will be performing one more act this evening as soon as the suns set. In the meantime, if anyone has any spare coins, we will pass around a cap and would appreciate anything you can give. It is a long journey from home for us and though we love to perform in this beautiful town, we surely wouldn’t make it back safe without your contributions. From the House of Tobas, we thank you!”

Soren looked around as she saw the crowd all collectively realize what they had just paid for. Though none of them had given a coin yet. To her surprise her father next to her held out a small copper Coif. It was the smallest denomination in Central yet to Soren who rarely saw any money, let alone hold it, it was treasure. She looked at the coin, a dulled image of a Dragonbee stamped on it. As the cap came around, Soren peered inside and saw the small collection of coins already amassed. She saw a majority were copper Coif’s like her own but she did spot the glint of a few silver Flats, the stamp of scales atop their squared face. She passed along the cap and looked up at her father.

“Papa, can we get something to eat?” Soren asked. There were merchants selling savory stews and warm fresh flatbread. Soren noticed that some of the vendors had the rose stamp of the House of Tobas, same as the Troupe.

“We can go look. I only have seven Coif’s left so we’ll have to choose wisely.” At that moment, Yalina caught back up with them. She had remained in the back of the crowd, and Soren wondered if it was because of the large man playing one of her people. Soren was actually a bit surprised by the show. Her mother said her people were usually portrayed as blood hungry and savage. Yet, hadn’t the Dream-Walker called the Yunadaya ‘good’ knight? And hadn’t he been the hero of the story? Yalina looked down at her daughter and smiled,

“What do you think?” she asked, following Soren’s line of vision to the waiting vendors.

“The bread smells good, maybe we can share one?” Soren asked hopefully. Her mother smiled again and nodded. Dolor gave Soren two Coif’s and she raced over to the vendor with a wide grin. She picked out two of the breads that were stuffed with fresh quick-cheese, peas and a kind of curry paste called Daal. The man selling the bread handed Soren a small bowl of the stew as well saying,

“that bread just don’t taste as good without something to dip it in” he winked before going back to the large frying basin he was cooking on. Soren raced back over to her parents who were talking in a soft whisper with a woman Soren didn’t recognize. She held her mothers hands as she spoke. As Soren ran up, the two parted and Yalina quickly wiped her eyes and turned.

“Mama, I got some stew for free!” Soren exclaimed excitedly.

“Good, I am starving.” Her father said.

“Mama, are you ok?” Soren asked, looking concerned at her then at the strange woman who was beginning to move away. She was dark tan like her mother and her fair hair and light tan eyes marked her as a Yunadaya.

“Fine Soren, just fine. I want you to meet someone.” She gestured behind her to the woman, now a good seven or eight feet away who was looking startled as Soren. Looking back at the woman, Yalina looked at the woman surprised,

“Frey’yala?” Soren’s mother asked, seeing the fear in the woman’s eye’s.

“Seku’deya Enki Al’holmset” the woman said to Yalina. Yalina looked aghast and made to shield her daughter. Soren had no idea what the woman said or why she was being ushered behind her mother. The woman, Frey'yala, repeated the strange phrase looking at Soren with obvious terror before making an odd gesture as if drawing a large symbol in the air, then turning quickly and racing towards the southern edge of town.

“Frey’yala, FREY’YALA!” Yalina called out to the woman who didn’t turn and didn’t slow. people glanced at the spectacle from all directions.

“Mama? Mama what’s goin’ on? Who was that?” Soren asked, grabbing her hand. Yalina didn’t respond for a long time, watching the disappearing back of the strange woman. When she had finally lost sight of the woman, Yalina turned to Soren and said,

“Do not worry little one. She is confused, too much time in the desert I suspect. It can be dangerous, even for us.” Yalina smiled down at Soren and said,

“Come, let’s eat these breads before they get cold. And Stew!” she exclaimed. Yet, Soren could tell the interaction with the woman had shaken her mother. Soren decided not to press the issue after seeing the concerned look on her father’s face as they walked to a small awning to sit and eat. The bread was delicious and still steaming as they tore it open. The cheese squeaked as Soren chewed and the Daal left a spicy and satisfying taste in her mouth. She watched and blew on a piece of potato from the stew as the final dying rays of Ahriman set into the western sky.

Sitting there between her parents, Soren felt the world turn about her. She searched for and embraced the fantasy of contentment that had settled over her these past few hours. ‘nothing was wrong with this world’ she told herself. ‘I am content’ the lie came easy to her mind. She closed her eyes and drank in the moment. The smell of curry mixed with the quickly darkening sky and soft body warmth at either side of her. The intoxication of safety real or perceived was always heady. The muted sound of music came from somewhere in the distance. At that moment it was hard not to feel at ease, and yet even as she tried, something was nagging at her. She couldn’t help feeling there was something wrong and instantly, a geometric shape appeared in her mind. She wondered at the grey polyhedron in her mind. A thin line of white appeared around the center. Soren suddenly saw. The thing was a container. A container that could open if she just pried a little at its edges.

“Stoooooop!!!” Soren heard Caracara shout. As quickly as it came, the gray container was gone. Soren’s eyes snapped open and she realized where she was. She suddenly realized the mood of the evening had changed too.

“Soren, get up!” her father was shouting at her. Both her mother and father were on their feet looking down at her. She heard shouts from afar, then a scream.

“Papa?” she asked a bit dazed, the fear rising in her.

“Come, we need to leave.” The crowd that had been clustered around the Troupe and their wagon had begun to disperse. Some moved quickly. Others, apparently inebriated, moved in clumsy jumbles hanging on to one another with dulled concern. Soren heard another scream, this time closer and someone yelling,

“Fire! Fire!” As if on a cue, Soren smelled the smoke. She watched the effect the smoke had on the crowd. Like watching a hive of cicada-wasps come to life. The people in the crowd began to swarm, running in nearly every direction. Her father grabbed Soren by the arm and pulled her back. They began to make their way towards the Hayes house then stopped, concern written like scripture on his face.

“We should head back home. It’s probably not safe anywhere in town.” He said. Soren looked up at her father, also noticing the clouds quickly coming in from the east.

“Papa, shouldn’t we help?” Soren asked. Her father responded while leading them towards the southern outskirts of town,

“With my broken arm and ribs… No, think I’d be more hinderance than help.” He said. As they passed, Soren saw the vendors had packed up and were almost finished loading everything back into the wagons. She marveled at their efficiency and wondered if these sorts of catastrophes were commonplace for them. Soren looked back at the town and saw the orange hues of the smoke overtaking the town. Desperate screams were coming from all over now and she was shocked at how quickly the town was being consumed by the fires. They made it to the edge of town with a large crowd of people fleeing the scene. The Troupes wagons had come to life and many of the horses were already hitched and had begun fleeing to the southwest. Suddenly her hand was yanked out of her father’s grip. She looked up but couldn’t see her father in the crowd of people. Everyone was moving too fast. There were maybe less than a hundred people yet all of them were taller than Soren. Franticly, she tried to find her father and mother, she shouted for them and for a moment thought she had heard her mother respond. However, in the tumult of the crowd, Soren soon found herself jostled to the back edge of the mass. When she had finally made it out of the packed group of people, Soren listened for her mother or father’s calls. Instead, She heard another voice, a familiar gravely high-pitched voice.