When Herschel woke next, he was in a dim tent swaddled in soft furs like a fussy baby. A small fire burned in the centre of the cone shaped structure, the smoke escaping through a hole at the top.

  Where are we? Get up! We have to get away! Panic yelled as it rose in his chest.

  Slow down, his calm added. Do we know where we came from?

  Not quite listening, he strained to release himself from the heavy pelts. Managing to sit up, he saw a circle of sleeping figures, all with their feet facing the fire. Smaller bodies made him think most were women and children. He tried to stand on legs too weak to carry him, and was about to do a spectacular face plant right into the fire, when a pair of hands rescued him.

  "Sch," a voice in the dark hushed. "Don't wake the children. Lie back down. I'll get you some water. You've been asleep for two days."

  The dark figure moved silently to the exit. Herschel tried to ask him to stay, but all that came out was a dry cough as the slender stranger disappeared through the flap. His mind needed answer, but his body needed rest, and mind could only persevere over matter for so long. The night air from the opening made him shiver, and he laid back down. Before he had a chance to start struggling with the furs, small hands from either side were tucking him back into the softness. As he was about to drift off, the opening of a leather sack was put to his mouth. Hershel drank the cold water too fast and started choking.

  "Careful," the man whispered.

  "Hrmph, where?" he croaked, barely getting the word out.

  "Don't try to speak now. There'll be time to talk later."

  The stranger put a sweet berry to Herschel's lips. It was delicious. It wasn't long before he was back asleep, lips covered in sweet juice. The next time he woke, he was hot and sticky. The leather-brown tent flap was roped open, and light was pouring in.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "You're awake." It wasn't a question.

  "Y-yes," Herschel answered uncertainly.

  "How are you feeling?" The voice was coming from outside the opening.

  "Fine?" He was weak and confused, but when someone you've never officially met asks you how you feel, 'Fine' was the only acceptable answer.

  "Really? Because we didn't think you would survive. My brother and I saw you crossing Ganja before you collapsed."

  "Okay, then I'm tired and everything hurts."

  The man laughed hard and slapped his thigh, "that's a good, I'll have to remember that one.

  Before he had a change to reply, the stranger hunched under the flap and stepped inside. He was tall with deeply tanned skin and straight jet-black hair.

  He looks like us! Shock added itself to Herschel's other symptoms.

  "Where am I?" It seemed a sensible question, but his curiosity was screaming at him to ask why they looked the same.

  "You're in the caretakers tent."

  "No, I mean--"

  "Yeah, I know what you meant," the man interrupted. "We're in Frel, what Agalians consider to be the last untamed part of Agalaland, and what we consider to be not Agalaland. I'm Lingur. What's your name?"

  Lingur came closer and squatted down. Except for a leather loincloth, he was almost naked. Herschel thought he looked pretty human until he saw Lingur's green eyes. He had horizontally slit pupils, like a horse.

  "I'm Herschel. You're not human?"

  "Surprised? We were too. Except for your eyes, you look much like us. Where did you come from?"

  "Us?" Even in his weakened state, Herschel stayed true to his habit of answering a question with a question.

  "We're the Nontie. Were áettar. You must know of us? It's obvious you have some of our blood."

  Herschel surprised himself by remembering something about Nontie. They were supposed to be savages. He'd had no idea they were also áettar.

  Savages with caretaker tents who hand-feed strangers, I like these savages, the primitive in him thought.

  "I thought áettar only lived in Dim?"

  "Most are hidden in the forest, true, but the Nontie moved onto the grasslands long ago." Lingur stopped and frowned. "We don't usually discuss our splintering with outsiders."

  "Splintering?"

  "Come on, I answered your question, you could at least tell me where you came from? And maybe what you were doing in the desert? That place is a deathtrap."

  Herschel tried to remember, but the more he focused on where he'd been, the more the white desert came into view. "I came from, um...I was running. From some- where...thing? I-I can't remember!"

  He felt light-headed, and not in a good way. Then the world blurred and he lost consciousness.