They emerged like two strange shadows from the depths of the desert. The sand whipped around them, clinging to their clothes and reluctant to let them go. As though the cursed land itself was furious, cheated by their departure. It had been good fortune that had led them North, through the dunes and eternal heat. Kes didn’t look back, only forward as she nudged her pale horse forward. Mountains rose ahead, but not before a great scar split the land in a canyon.

A tall woman, she dismounted the saddle-free horse and padded across the ground. She knelt, peering down at the canyon and the river that snaked along it. Her hands curled over the edge of the rock. The sun was slowly rising, and for the first time in days she did not fear it. Even from a distance, she could see the change of scenery. Down at the bottom of the scar, the landscape was green. A glorious stretch of emerald foliage that was touched by the very first rays of light. A thin fog lifted from the river itself but soon it would be scorched away by the sun.

She could sense the deep roots of the trees, the subtle call of flowers and shrubs. There were animals that lived on the edges of the canyon, and people too. Kes grinned, tapped her hands to the rim of the scar and stood. She dusted her palms together, wiping them on her clothes.

“Is this where we part ways?” She turned to her companion and peeled away the scarf that had kept the bottom part of her face protected from the abrasive kiss of sand. What would he chose, she wondered? Her hands itched, the skin peeling away from the palms from where it had spent too long pressed to scorching sands.

His answer came in the form of thundering hooves, that of his mount’s feet meeting the rocky terrain and white sand beyond as he raced past Kes’tral. Down into the canyon and out into the open without a care in the world. The horse had galloped to the edge of the river, skidding to a swift halt as its rider threw his leg and dismounted.

Kes’tral was a stick on the horizon, no taller than the length of a blunt fingernail. He paid her little mind as he dropped his pack, cast down his weapons and stripped out of his clothes to bare himself to the world and the river before him. A haphazard pile of clothing marked where the man had been one moment and vanished the next, sending river water skyward as he jumped into the deepest part he could see.

His cry echoed through the canyon, a mix of joy and terror as the heat of his sunburnt skin met the cold river water. Wendell flicked back his greasy hair and wiped his face, laughing at his spur-of-the-moment decision to leap into the unknown.

“Woo!” He called, before disappearing beneath the water once more, kicking feet throwing up even more water as he explored the murky riverbed. The water was both refreshing and energising after spending more days in the desert than he cared to remember. Nothing could tempt him back there now, not even a run in with a crocodile.

Something at the bottom of the river caught his eye, glinting in the early morning light that filtered through the murky water. He came up for air, only to dive again and pick at the speck on the stony riverbed. Wendell surfaced once more, this time to study what he had found. “Gold?” He mouthed. A tight knot formed at the centre of his brow. Was there really gold in this river?

The pirate waved to the bird-woman, hoping to summon her to the river’s edge. He disappeared for a time, taking up another piece, this one more sizeable than the last.

Kes found herself watching the departing shadow of the man as he rode, hell for leather into the canyon. She pressed her fingers to her lips, muttering a silent prayer that both he, and his horse would safely reach the floor. It seemed that her prayers were answered and she laughed. His excited yelps echoed across the might rift before being swallowed by the dawn. Kes pattered her own mount and followed the rough path Wendy had ridden. She took care to place her feet on the steep descent, running her hands through the foliage that grew. Exploring the textures of the different leaves, sniffing the flower buds that hadn’t yet opened for the day.

It was going to be a cloudless morning, the sky an azure band above their heads. The man was diving beneath the water by the time she joined him on the canyon floor. Kes took the time to look up at the walls, wondering if perhaps they were being watched by something other than the trees and the birds that were slowly stirring.

“Gold?” She peered at him and laughed, of course a pirate would find gold.

More conservative with her clothes, she eased her feet from her boots before freeing herself of the clothes that had become stuck to her skin. Melded to it by sweat, blood and sand. The clothes were crusty, sand falling of in clumps as she discarded them and strode into the water. She gasped at the cool touch against her skin, but sank down until the waters covered her head. Kes held her breathe, rubbing her hands through her hair in an attempt to clean it, before she finally stood in a rush. Water cascaded and she returned to the bank, the sash was perhaps the cleanest item after it was shaken out. She wrapped it around her chest and started washing the rest of her clothes.

“This feels like a paradise after the sand,” she admitted and peered up at the canyon side. “There’s wild animals, I think.” She sniffed the air, “they’re not big, but they’ll feed us.”

Kes’tral mentioned food and the man was reminded of his hunger. His insides twisted in uncomfortable knots at the thought of a meal. The pirate’s search for more gold was forgotten, happy enough with the three or four pieces he had managed for forage. He swam over to the edge of the river and pressed the small pieces of ore into the pocket of his trousers. They would be valuable, he thought, once the pair of them eventually came across a village.

Wendell lay on his belly in the shallows, studying the bird-like woman as she washed her clothes. He would not risk doing the same, sure he would have to wait all day for them to dry if he attempted such now. Besides, he rationalised in silence, his tunic had been washed the day before and, though it hadn’t come up very white, it still smelled a lot better.

Kes’tral wasn’t wrong, the canyon did seem too good to be true after the handful of days they had spent in the desert. Any longer and the man was sure his lips and the tip of his nose would never be the same again. He folded his arms, resting his head upon them as he sunbathed, lower half still submerged. It should feel strange to sit bare, yet Wendell paid Kes’tral no mind, sure she had seen far worse in her years amongst the Oathkeeper crew.

“We should hunt,” he agreed, “but it will be tricky without any arrows. I have a handaxe and throwing knives, though I don’t much like our chances of getting anywhere with them. Are you any good at making snares?” He asked.

Wendell looked across the rocky terrain at what they had to work with, when he noticed something move at the corner of his vision. His gaze fixed on the area, waiting to see something more. A trick of the mind, he decided.

The sun had made it to the edge of the canyon half an hour later and Wendell watched as its light touched one of the areas that had moments ago been covered in shadow. Again he thought he saw something, but this time, rather than shrug it off, he rose to investigate, taking up his trousers and the axe. He stumbled into his pants as he wandered along, careful where he put his bare feet.

A small lizard darted out of sight from the rock it had been basking on, choosing to hide within the surrounding cracks. Wendell almost fell over backwards when he realised what it was that he had seen moving in and out from between the rocks. He brought his axe down in one fell move, beheading a long, winding creature that curled about its death, muscles twitching, even without the head to function.

Wendell took the black tip of the snake by the tail and held it up. “Breakfast!” He grinned, pleased with himself.

The pirate knew nothing about preparing a snake, nor how to cook one. He wandered over to the biggest rock he could find and lay it on its back in order to use his dagger to split its belly from throat to tail. Once gutted, the snake was placed directly on top of a small fire he had managed to gather enough debris to start up. Smoke billowed from the pathetic stack, suffocated by the carcass and leaves used to get the fire going.

It took the man a good half hour to establish a fire strong enough to cook the snake, the skin falling off of it within minutes. He used a pair of sticks to drag it off the fire and dropped the limp, charred body on a flat rock beside Kes’tral.

“Not sure how it’s going to taste,” he admitted, “but I’m game if you are?”

Kes scrubbed the clothes, rubbing the fabric of her tunic as roughly as she dared against a wide flat rock. It was times like this, that she missed her feathers most of all. Birds didn’t have to worry about clothes, or keeping them clean, or if they smelt like stale sweat. Finally satisfied that the worst muck was out, she spread the cloth over a section of grass that had already been kissed by the sun. Hoping that it would dry out, as the morning moved on. Her trousers she’d pulled back on, but her feet were left bare. They sank into the lush grass at the bottom of the valley and she was delighted with the sensation. Perhaps there were some perks to this form after all, even if they were few and far between.

“Snares?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. If she could avoid it, the shapeshifter didn’t eat meat in this form. However, so far from what could count as civilisation, she understood the importance of survival. But a snare meant an animal could suffer for hours before the end. Besides, she had ways of summoning creatures to her, even if it felt like an abuse of her power at times like this.

Instead she stayed quiet, content to bask in the sun. Her shoulders and mid-rif exposed as she rolled up the trouser legs and sat with her feet in the river. Perhaps there were fish, she wondered and tried seeking them out. Fish were difficult though, finicky and reluctant to trust. She didn’t blame them.

Wendy emerged with a splash that made her squeal. Cold drops showering her warm skin in his haste to dress. She lifted a hand as a shield, turning in time to watch him darting between the rocks. Kes was on her feet, reaching for her wooden staff but paused when he held aloft his prize. Although she grimaced, she said nothing and simply watched the man go about his business. Kes returned to her bags, pulling out the equipment they had taken from the bandits. She examined it, cleaned and tidied what she could and packed it away again.

With the meat cooked, Kes edged forward. She pulled a small section away, sniffing it as she looked up at the man. “Can’t be any worse than sand,” she replied and popped the scrap into her mouth. It was too hot and landed back in her palm. She fanned her tongue before blowing on the meat once more. Careful this time, she tried eating it once more before giving a small shrug. “It won’t kill us,” she reasoned in the end. “You did good.”

She reached for a larger section, mulling over the taste in her mouth, “we follow the river?” She looked down stream. He hadn’t really given her answer about the state of their continuing companionship, so she accepted that she was going to follow the flow of water and he might choose to come with her. “Or we stay here, rest for the day. Eat, recover?”

Wendell watched the woman eat before squatting beside the freshly cooked meal to edge a segment of white flesh away from the snake’s body. He waited a while. Kes’tral had said it wouldn’t kill them, but he was not so sure. Wendell had heard many tales of snakes killing men with a single bite, what if they could poison even after death. Was this snake even venomous, he wondered. A few minutes passed without issue before Wendell tried the flesh. It was chewy and strange, but the bird-woman was right, it wouldn’t kill them.

“We follow the river,” Wendell agreed. “Fresh water usually means life. Perhaps we will find a village?” He said, hopeful. It was not so much that he wanted to be free of Kes’tral’s company, more that, after so long, it would be nice to confirm that they weren’t the last two people on this dreaded, sand covered rock of a continent.

Wendell picked through the thin, tiny bones of the snake, eating his fill, sure he had over cooked the meat. There were worse things in life than a bad meal, he reminded himself, like the feeling of starving. He didn’t much want to experience that again. Had Kes’tral admitted her aversion to meat, she would have received some very fun looks from the man. It was his go to, delicious, its energy long lasting. Wendell had probably never eaten a salad in his life and wasn’t about to start now, feeling half starved to death.

Kes’tral had cleaned out her backpack and Wendell decided to follow suit, going through his things in order to dust everything off. He turned the pack inside out and stood up to shake it hard before sticking everything neatly back inside. The bag didn’t feel as heavy upon his shoulders after the meal, the man then choosing to climb onto his horse and make a start down the river.

Wendell let his horse set the pace, the animal bending every now and then to drop its head and rip up something it decided looked tasty along the way. It’s belly rumbled when it stopped at the river’s edge to drink and Wendell thought himself cruel for nudging the animal with his heel to move along. The horse shook its head, mane whipped back and forth as it snorted, ripped up another plant and continued on down river.

Rounding the first bend had been the most nerve-racking, the man not sure what they would find. He found himself disappointed to see that it was nothing more than another stretch of river and a bend after that. How long would they travel, he wondered, before there was something more to see?

Two hours into their trek, the pirate decided to stop and let the horse roam a while, snacking on the local flora. He bent to wash his face and wet his hair in order to keep it slicked back out of his eyes. When Kes’tral pulled up beside him, the man rose, hands on hips.

“I thought we would have seen something by now,” he said, sounding a little confused or perhaps irritated. “But the river seems to go on and on with not much more here than there was at its very beginning.” After all, he thought, who in their right mind would live here or worse yet, in the desert?

“Maybe we make camp and let the horses recover?”