I always assumed I knew Knives. After all, we're twins. I should know everything about him.

But of course, you can never truly know someone like Knives.

It wasn't long after he and I had really fought for the last time. At least, it hadn't felt like a long time. But then, we had been away from humans and all their swiftly moving time. When I worked it out, it came to about forty of their short years.

We were going to May City. Or, we had started out going to May City. Somewhere along the way, our destination had just become wherever. Maybe what we had wanted with May City was just forgotten; maybe we got sidetracked. Somehow, fate put us walking through the desert toward a backwater settlement called Little Iowa.