AN: I don't own Yugioh. But believe me I wish that I did. You know the drill, all OC's are mine, please ask if you want to use them. Enjoy. This story was written for a good friend of mine who's a sucker for Yami Bakura, and this kinda explains what was going on before the Pharaoh's memory arch in the comics and anime.

My Oath

Critical Meeting, part one

"Ahhhhhh!" I scream as I watch the Angel falls from the sky, its four wings splayed out and broken. His eyes are closed and he disintegrates into nothingness. My chest heaves, and I collapse onto my knees, spiting blood out into the sand. My body aches; I have bruises and cuts all over. My skin is on fire; my nerves scream out in pain and my vision is blurred and hazy. Above me I see the indigo night sky, tiny droplets of starlight beckon from above, the only witnesses to this battle, the only ones who have seen everything from the start. Below me, the green circle with the strange looking hexagram slowly shrinks in size, casting a sickening green glow over everything above me, caging me, even though I can see the horizon just beyond the mountains. And standing before me is a man that tricked me, used me to gain his own knowledge. His green eye stares at me with a look of disgust, while his yellow eye shows me sympathy. His green hair is brushed by the winds which also whip the green medallion around his neck. His name is Dartz, and he told me that he would help.

"Your time is nearly up Kanika," he says to me and I grit my teeth, grasping the gold millennium ring I wear around my neck. He stares at it, "you should say your final good byes."

I suddenly laugh, even though it hurts like crazy, "Isn't time a funny thing." I force myself onto my feet holding the ring tight to my chest, "we think we have more then enough of it, but in the end, what it comes down to is weather or not we have the guts to say what we have to say in the shortest amount possible and convey what we want to."

I cough then loosing my balance and land on my left knee, gnashing my teeth so that I don't scream. Looking up at the sky I notice that morning is coming, maybe if I can stay strong enough till the light changes I won't feel like I failed. I blink back tears trying to remember what brought me to this moment, and I mummer to myself, "I wonder was the night sky this dark that night too?"

My eyes close and I drift back in my mind to fifteen years before, back when the world was so much simpler and I dreamed of adventures. The sky never changes, or if it does it moves so slowly, and the stars are witness to a world of change below them. I remember that night it was as dark as this night is, but the difference was there was a sand storm. My family, our caravan, had been traveling from our home village of Chisisi south of the trading center of Nubia and heading north in order to trade our goods. I was the youngest of four sisters, and eight going on nine at the time, and this being my first trip away from the village. My father was Musad, the leader of our caravan and one of the leaders of the council that governed our small village. His business skills had made him just wealthy enough to be considered well off for our village, but poor in relation to merchants in larger cities. It was his decision to stop and rest that started me down my path, one that I never looked back at after I made my choices.

The sands poured down over our heads and our wagons encircled the camp site. We slept in the carts, but regardless of the thick leather covers to block out the sands, I could not sleep at all. While the other's rested, I stared out into the winds at the oasis where the animals were tethered. My eyes focused on the camels, and horse which we were using and I noticed something move through the whirling sands. A shadow form moved silently over the grass, and then leaned on one of the few palm trees that dotted the small oasis. I crawled out of the cart, curious, but I couldn't get any father then a few feet from it, because the winds were too strong, and the figure had vanished. Regarding it as a dream I went back to the cart to sleep, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen something out there.

Morning light brought about a sharp kick to my side and I crashed out of my cart onto the sand. I sat up sputtering, and rubbed my eyes as a voice chided me from above.

"Get up you lazy girl!" My sight cleared, I blinked and stared up at the form of my older sister Akila. Her long black hair was in a tight braid with bead working that hung down to her waist. She was standing in the sun so her face was shadowed, and made her seem far more imposing then she normally was. Her lightly tanned skin looked darker, and her sharp deep brown eyes glared at me. She had her left foot propped upon the top of the wagon, and a wooden bucket was tucked under her arms. She did not look happy in the least. I supposed at the time, with her being twenty –two, it might have just been PMS.

"Akila! Did you have to kick me out of bed?" I shouted to her and she scowled at me.

"Girl, know your place," throwing down the bucket into the sand she added, "Here. Take this to the water hole and get water. We're making breakfast and we need it."

"Get it yourself," I shouted back and kicked the bucket away. Akila leered down at me with her hands on her hips.

"Don't you know; the youngest and newest traveler always does the manual labor." She crossed her arms, and hopped down off the cart. "Besides I don't have time to get water. I have breakfast to cook, the men are expecting it…and before you ask if Hasina or Lapis can help, they're helping me. Now go, or do you want me to tell father that you're not pulling your weight?"

I glared at her as she turned her back to me and walked back to the tents, her red sash blowing in the winds. I stood up and threw some sand at her, screaming, "Jerk!" but it blew back at me, and I had to cover my face to keep from getting it in my eyes. I clench my fists, and watch her retreating figure, biting my lips. Akila was someone I strove to please, she was so beautiful, and every man in the village knew it. Even though we all dressed the same, at least the females in my family did, Akila stood out. The traditional outfit was a jacket like shirt that hung just below our rib cages, with long sleeves, woven from burlap material that managed to keep us cool. Our skirts were cut long, but with strategically placed slits so that we could run freely and so that we could gather them and tie them into pants, and hung low around our hips so that we could gather and tie a sash that designated our ages. My sister's was red because she was the eldest sister while mine was an olive green since I was the youngest. She also wore gold coins attached to her shirt, sleeves and sash to show off her rank.

Akila was also the only one of my sisters married, although Lapis and Hasina were both old enough to be courted (sixteen and fourteen respectively), and thought herself important to our father. Her husband was our step brother Najja who I liked very much. She stopped and looked at me standing there, and gave me a weak smile, her words drifting on the winds, "Kanika, learn your place; If you don't you'll be left behind."

"Akila!" it was Hasina who was waving her hands, her black hair curled by the heat, as she came out of the cooking tent. "Hurry we still have to get the meal ready."

"Coming." She replied and cast me a look that said 'Go and get the water!' then rapidly walked to the tent. I sighed and picked up the bucket, hefting it into my two hands and carried it down past the men who were working with the horses. They're laughter echoed in my ears as they discussed the girls in that traveled with us, though I pretended to not care what they thought of me.

"Kanika," I stopped when I heard Najja call to me. He ran over, his brown red hair cut short and a gold earring in his ear. He was from a different tribe, nobler then ours, and it was thought to be a good marriage for him and Akila, as he was twenty-five. He grinned, his tan face covered by sweat. "Where are you off to?"

"Getting water," I told him showing the bucket. He laughed.

"Akila's got you working already?" I nodded and he patted my head, "Well I know you'll do a good job. Just don't over tax yourself, okay?"

I blushed and nodded my head, and then he laughed and headed back over by the men when they called his name. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, walking slowly to the oasis. I knew what my roll was; I was the little sister, the child of the family, who still had yet to earn her keep. My sisters loved me dearly, but treated me as they did their pets, and at the time I had nothing that I really cared about expect getting Najja's approval.

I was now far from the camp, in the center of the oasis and the sun was just starting to bleed over the horizon. The men I knew were going to be expecting their breakfast. This was how it always worked, it was a trade. For our protection the women would cook and do chores for the men, in return the men would protect our families and provide us with money so that we could buy food. But I did not want to have to rely on others to do that for me. I wanted to protect myself, and yet, I wanted someone to notice me the way that Najja noticed Akila. As I stood in the oasis I found myself listening to the wind swishing through the palm trees, and feeling the green grass under my sandals. It was a lovely place, I decided, and sat down feeling that I deserved to admire its beauty. If the men were so hungry they could just come get water themselves. I set the bucket aside with a loud thunk and knelt beside the sparkling pool, gazing at my reflection.

A set of walnut colored eyes stared back at me complementing the tan face with sharp features, my mother gave me these. Around my neck was a scarf made of green silk from the Far East, something that I prized. My hair, like my sisters and all the girls in the camp, was naturally black, but I dyed it green with a tea that came in with traders from the east in Nubia so as to stand out from the other girls. Even then, as I looked at my face, I thought I was plain. Nothing special, I thought, nothing unique, just plain; plain, plain, plain, as plain as a simple looking horse. This is all that I am and all that I will be. No beauty, no queen, just a plain girl. I scowled at my reflection and kicked at it with the heel of my right foot. Feh, who needs looks anyway. Who needs a man, they're all just pains anyway.

I settled down in the grass with a long yawn, and looked up at the fading night sky. The stars twinkled and winked out one by one as daylight encroached upon the stellar landscape. I put my arms behind my head and thought of the figure I saw in the sand storm, Could it really have been something I imagined? If it was, why did it seem so real? And if it wasn't a figment of my dreams, then who in their right minds would be out there in a sand storm? As I pondered this, I began to wonder if it was the ghost of a dead man who had drowned in the pool of water during a similar storm. It was usual for the children in the camp to sit around telling stories to scare one another, and a story of this sort was no exception. It made perfect sense that a man could have died there and his body, not given proper burial, was to wonder for eternity. Even thinking this I gave myself the chills. If I had seen a ghost, then what was I going to do? To say that I saw one would net a bad reaction from my sisters and my father, as they were quiet suspicious. But I wanted an answer as to what I saw, and I was intending that night to camp out by the side of the pool.

My decision made, I figured it was best to get the water, since my family was the type that might just leave me behind if I didn't show up. Bending over into the water, I started to lower the heavy bucket in, when I heard a long, ghostly moan, emanate from behind some trees. I looked about, and glanced behind me to see if any of the camels had wandered from their post. But all I saw at the time was sand and the wind blowing the grass and tree leaves. Shivering, I tried to collect the water faster, but the sound came again, making me drop the bucket, and turn to flee. When it came a third time, it was softer, and sounded more like a wounded animal then a dead mans moan. I blinked and turned back, pulling the bucket out, and clutching it to my chest.

Hesitating some, I wandered back towards the trees with painfully slow steps, inching along the grass with silent foot falls. As I neared the trees the moan echoed once more, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my breathing became more rapid.

Flee, a voice was whispering in my head, fool get out of there! You're going to get killed! But my curiosity took over my better judgment and I pushed through the grass till I slipped past the two large palm trees where the sound came from. I stared when I saw what was making the noise. A boy, with the whitest hair I had ever seen, like a blind man's eyes, lay face up in the sands. He could only have been a year or two older then I was (nine year's of age), and he was dressed in a ragged shirt and pants. His chest was covered in sweat as was his face and brow. His eyes were brown, deep and sharp, and he was staring up at the sky, breath coming in short gasps, and ragged. I drew closer and he let out a racking cough then moaned again and rolled over onto his side, and I jumped back, frightened. When I lowered my hands he was looking at me but not looking at me, and his lips were parched. Some salvia leaked out of them and onto the ground and he managed to barely whisper, "M-mother?"

I stared unable to utter anything at the moment, then he collapsed and I hurried over to him. Touching his forehead I drew my hand back fast. His head was hotter then any fire could possible be, and I knew he was suffering from delusions from the heat.

"Ra," I whispered, "Who are you?"

He gave no reply, just hacked more and moaned, then started to mutter for his mother and sisters. I tried to tell him I wasn't his mother, but I just couldn't find my voice because I was so scared.

He's so hot. What do I do, I can't leave him here like this? I got to my feet and grabbed him under the arms; he was extremely limp and heavy. Dragging him along the grass I pulled him to the pool, straining under his weight. As I moved him I talked to him, "Hey. Don't fall asleep okay? You're sick, and I'm going to help you alright. Just hang on, okay. You'll be okay."

"Aneksi," he uttered and I raised an eyebrow repeating the name.

"Aneksi, who's that?"

"Sister," he said, and moaned again. "Mother where's Aneksi?"

"I don't know," I told him and he let out a cry of pain again making me nearly drop him. Struggling with him, I tried to talk to him but after that comment he hardly responded, only with grunts, and a few coughs. His breathing grew shallower, and my heart raced. What if he died on me, what would I do? They would leave him here, and the scavengers would eat him. Feeling ill at the images that played in my mind, I laid him down (more like dropped him) onto the grass near the pool then took off my scarf and dunked it into the water. His head was so hot that it dried the scarf moments after it touched his skin, and I had to do it several times to even make his head touchable.

"Gods, you're burning up," I said to him and settled his head on my lap, then nervously pulled off his shirt and dabbed the cloth over his chest, feeling a bit weird doing so. He wasn't my brother, and I didn't feel comfortable doing it, but I still went about trying to cool his body off. He shivered some, and I heard him let out a rattling breath, and watched as his chest stopped rising. I dropped the scarf and started to shake him like crazy. "Don't stop breathing you fool! Come on, gasp you! Suck in some air!"

I whimpered and tried to breath into his mouth, but no air escaped from his lungs. Frightened by the idea of having a corpse on my hands, I listened to his chest, hoping his heart was still beating, than his soul was still alive. I held my breath and heard a few weak beats, so I knew he was still living.

How do I get you to breathe? I furiously thought and pressed at his chest, then looked at the cool water. It wasn't as cold as the Nile could be, but it was cold enough to be a shock to someone who was burning like he was. Grabbing him around the waist I hefted him talking loudly, praying to Ra he could hear me.

"Buddy, I don't know who you are, but you are so gonna owe me for this. You hear, you can't die, it's not your time, understand? Now breathe damn you!" I threw us both into the water. The splashing sensation was nothing like the icy feeling that needled my skin and I nearly opened my mouth. The boy's eyes few open a second after we hit the water, and he pushed himself up to the surface, taking me with, and exploded out of the water, gasping for air and shaking in my arms. His eyes were clear for a second and he looked at me, saying, "Hell…" then collapsed again in my arms, still breathing now thankfully.

I shook him again, but he was back into the fever state and didn't respond. I kicked in place, gently splashing water on his face and shoulders and screamed for help. At first I didn't know if my voice carried but a few seconds later I heard my cries returned and a group of five men came running for the oasis, carrying swords and staves, held at the ready to fight. Najja was ahead of this group, along with my father, whose bulky frame made it hard to believe that he could run as fast as he could. His beard was unkempt, and he looked like he was about to kill the first thing he saw. However when he got to the oasis and saw me with the boy his look changed from fear and rage, to something akin to shock and puzzlement.

"Kanika! What are you doing in the water?" he asked and I moved aside to show the boy. The look in his black eye turned to red fury. "What is a boy doing in there with you!"

I knew how it looked, and blushed hard looking down, but Najja must have known that something was wrong with him, because he immediately dove into the water and swam over to us, and felt his head.

"He's sick with a fever," I told Najja, my eyes tearing up, and I started to shake. "He stopped breathing and I didn't know what to do, so I threw us both in the water to shock him awake."

Najja nodded, and smiled softly at me, "You did fine Kanika." Then looking at my father he shouted, "this boy has fever and is very ill, Father. He needs the shaman to look after him."

My father looked at me, then at the boy and nodded his head, "Najja bring him. Kanika, come!"

I bowed my head, retrieved my bucket, took in some water, and followed after my father. Najja scooped up the boy from me, who murmured the name Tsekeni to him. Najja cradled the boy in his arms, and gave me a reassuring smile. After I returned I dropped the water off by my sisters who immediately began to ask me questions.

"Who is he?" Hasina asked her green eyes wide with worry as she dumped the water into the pot.

"I don't know," I admitted, "he wasn't in any state to speak very well."

"But you jumped in the water with him?" Lapis asked me, her clear sky blue eyes glowing with wonder, and I nodded. "How bad was his fever?"

"Bad enough," I told her and explained that he stopped breathing. Akila seemed the most distressed about the situation and leaned against the pole inside the tent. She asked carefully, "What did the boy look like?"

"He had brown eyes, and tan skin…" I explained and she fingered her hair and I swallowed. "And white hair."

"White hair!" the other two exclaimed, and shivered. "We'll be attacked for certain if someone finds him with us!"

I looked at them puzzled and Akila explained, staring at me coolly, "The fact is there are slavers who prize exotic looking people. A boy with white hair could net a high amount of money at auction. And these are men that will do anything to gain such a prize, even kill an entire caravan."

I gasped and shivered, "B-but he's just a boy. Not even much older then I am!"

She shrugged, "It doesn't matter. So long as he has white hair, he's a danger to us. It's a bad omen Kanika, don't associate with him."

I nodded slowly, though I didn't buy it at the time. How could a person be a bad omen just because of his hair color? Lapis's hair was red, the color considered a sign of Set the god of evil, yet we never once considered her a danger. It was then that one of the men called me out of the tent.

"Najja's asking for you in the wagon," he said with a grunt, "He wants you to help, the boy's struggling with the women. He won't let them touch him and he keeps screaming for his mother. I'm supposed to take you there."

I nodded, and my face paled, what was he expecting me to do? How could I help? If the boy was struggling he could hurt me, didn't Najja realize that? I held my tongue as we walked to the wagon, and I could hear the cries from inside. The sound the boy made both scared me and broke my heart. It was the sound of a child in mourning, not just a man sick with fever. Najja, who had been waiting outside, saw me approach with the other man, and ran to me.

"Kanika, than Ra you're here," he said and took my hands. "The boy, he's having fits. I thought since you were there with him you might be able to…"

"Let me go!" the boy's scream came from inside the wagon and I heard the cry of a woman who seemed to have been hit. "Aneksi, help me! Sister, please! Let go…Mother! Father! Where are you!"

I felt my heart race, and dropped Najja's hands, then ran into the wagon as fast as my legs would let me, and stood wide eyed at the doorway. The boy was fighting two of the shaman's (Kamuzu) assistants, along with a hand full of women who were trying to get him into a cool bath water. Kamuzu saw me at the door, and waved me away.

"This is no place for a child, Kanika," he looked to the boy, "this poor child is possessed by his fever. Yet he keeps fighting us, and refuses to settle down. He sees something but I can't tell what, there's darkness growing in his soul. Go now, I don't want you to see this horror!"

I stared at the scene, the boy's clothing had been removed and they had put him in an undergarment. He was thin, but strong, and fast, faster then I expected him to be. Gazing at him I started to move forward with determined steps, even though I quaked like mad inside. Najja followed me inside and reached out to my arm to stop me, but Kamuzu waved a withered arm at him. The old shaman's blind eyes could see more then any seeing man, and his strength was hidden under wrinkles.

"Stay," I heard him tell Najja who obeyed as I approached the boy. His face was snarled in rage, and his eyes were hazy. His lips were twisted into a grotesque scream, and he beat at the men with his fists screaming out the names, Aneksi and Tsekeni, along with Mother and Father. I was nearly on top of him when he lashed out, aiming to strike me with his fist, but it was pulled when I yelled out, "Hey stop that! You're going to hurt yourself."

He paused his blow, but not before I felt a sting on my cheek, and hit into another woman. She shrieked, "He's a demon! A devil! Kamuzu stop him!"

I ignored her yells and grabbed him around the shoulders, "Stop please, we're not going to hurt you, please. We just want to help you."

His eyes cleared again, and I guess he remembered my face, because he stopped struggling and murmured, "Help…me?" Then, since he spent all his energy, he once again fell into my arms, and the women at once grabbed him and put him in the water, and I moved back exhausted. Najja had been watching this, and disappeared. Kamuzu walked over to me, and touched my arm.

"Kanika, are you alright?" I nodded and gripped his arm and looked into his white eyes.

"Please just help him," I cried. "I feel sorry for him, he's hurt."

Kamuzu nodded and rubbed my shoulder, "I shall, now little one, go and rest. You did what was needed of you; the gods can ask no more then that."

I exited the cart and sat in the sand for what felt like hours. Najja appeared again after a long while, and informed me that my father wanted to talk to me. I nodded and stood, and headed for my father's tent, all the while the boy's screams echoed in my mind. Dancing with them was the words of my sister, that he was a bad omen and that I should stay away from him. Confused I stumbled into my father's tent, and he caught me up in his arms for a moment then set me on my knees and stared at me calmly. His black hair was now fixed, and he was dressed in his work clothing, a fine robe of red and gold that he had been given by a noble man years before. I bowed to him, and he patted my head.

"Najja tells me you have been helping the boy." I nodded as he continued. "Do you know who he is?"

I shook my head, "No he just keeps crying out for his Mother and Father."

My father nodded his head, and then looked at me with a thoughtful expression. "It sounds like the boy is dealing with a trauma. Tell me, is Najja telling true when he says that the boy reacts to your voice?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. I guess he heard me when I was dragging him in the oasis."

Father nodded, and looked to two of his council members with concern. They returned the look and he asked, "What of the boys looks?"

"If you mean his hair…" I started and he shook his head.

"I am not one to believe in wives tales," my father glanced over at the two elder men that stood behind him who nodded solemnly. He leaned on his knees and eyed me slowly, "I mean was there anything peculiar about him? Outside of his hair?"

I shook my head no, and he nodded once, "Very good is there anything you can tell us about him at all?"

Again I shook my head no, and he knitted his fingers, "Kanika, I will be blunt with you. We are not a wealthy group, we have enough to feed the lot of us, but I do not think we have enough to keep this boy. However, we shall take care of him till he is well enough to talk, and tell us who he is."

I nodded and licked my lips as he continued, "As for the one to take care of him, I have discussed this with Najja, and he believes you may be the only one that the boy allows to get close. So you shall be his keeper and take care of him."

My eyes went wide with shock. I am the keeper of that boy? The one that fought like a devil inside the sick cart, was my father insane? I started to shake my head, but he held his hand up as he finished, "It seems that the boy knows you, and until he is safe to be around, I think it is best that you take care of him. Kamuzu will show you how to do it. But, you must be told, we leave in three days time."

"W-what happens if he is not well in three days?" I asked and my father looked at me very seriously.

"Then the boy is left behind, and I pray that the gods take care of him."

I stood up fast, surprising the men of the council. "But Father," I protested, "Surely you must be joking? A person can not get well in just three days time!"

He held up his hand to silence me, "Three days Kanika."

"And what if I won't let you leave him?" I asked softly, and my father looked me dead in the eyes.

"Then I shall leave you here with him."

I swallowed, and blinked back hot tears. How could they make this decision, they had no idea what was happening to the boy, and yet they were casting judgment as if they were the weightier of souls. One of the men must have seen the look of hurt in my eyes because he spoke up, his voice cool and strict. "Child you must consider, we do not know who this boy is. For all we know he was abandoned by his family because he was ill and left to die."

"And what if he dose die, what then?" I shouted and the man looked to my father who nodded. "Well?"

"We bury him here, and move on, or leave him for scavengers," the man said and crossed his arms as the second spoke up.

"Kanika, you must understand, we're taking a big risk just letting him be here. If he were to infect us with his illness, it would be dire to our journey," this man I knew as Ata continued with a scowl upon his fat face. "Listen well child, we're giving you a great chance here, do what you will, but remember you only have three days, or else the boy is left behind, dead or not."

I clenched my fists wondering how men could be this cruel. Would they do this to their own child? Even if he was abandoned by his family, he needed someone to care for him. I spoke slowly, trying to ebb the shaky nature of it, even as inside my heart I was sobbing, "Then I will break his fever in three days or you will have to leave me here too."

My father stared at me, "Is that what you say?"

I nodded my head and he sat back looking very upset, "Very well do as you wish. You have three days; do not make me regret this Kanika."

I bowed and hurried out of the tent unsure of what to do next, and ran into Najja who seemed to be waiting for me. He drew me into a tight hug and smiled, "It didn't go well did it?"

I shook my head, "They've given me three days to nurse him to health."

Najja nodded, "I shall try to get them to give you more time, but for now, come. Kamuzu is waiting for you."

He took my hand in his and we walked to a small tent set up near the oasis. I could see the old shaman waiting outside for us. He was leaning on his walking stick and a small smile crossed his lips as we neared. Najja spoke quickly, "Kamuzu set up this tent for you and the boy so that you may take care of him. The women have washed him and rubbed his body with saves. He has been scared and there are old wounds on his body. But he is resting, now, and should be for most of the day."

I nodded slowly trying to take in everything he said to me, listening carefully. "You will have to live with him here," Najja continued looking sad, "I'm sorry for that. I know it will be scary for you Kanika but I know you will do a splendid job. Kamuzu will show you all he knows, and will give you herbs and such as you need them."

He suddenly let go of my hand and I looked at him questioningly as he explained, "This is as far as I dare to go, the rest of the way is yours. Farewell for now Kanika."

With those few words, he turned and left me standing feet away from Kamuzu. I watched him go, then took a deep breath and headed towards the old man who waved me over. He greeted me warmly and took me inside at once.
"He has stirred only lightly since we gave him the bath, and the herbs seem to be working," he said softly to me as we leaned over the boy's body which was covered by a soft cloth. Kamuzu stroked the boy's head and said softly, "you must administer types of saves to his chest and arms every few hours. His shoulders neck and head are to be bathed with cool water and a liquid herb that will draw out the fever. Be careful though, Kanika." He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "He's frightened by something. Nightmares plaque him right now, so he will attack you if you are not careful. When the fever brakes, you will know."

I asked several questions about what could be making him sick and how to care for him. Was I going to get it? Did he feel that the boy's illness was brought on by the heat? He did not believe that I would catch the sickness, nor did he believe it was entirely brought on by the heat. I wondered more about what father had said about the scars, but I didn't ask about them, or about what the nightmares could be. I didn't want to know. Kamuzu left me with one word of advice. "Trust only comes when a person is willing to see the darkness in another. He shall learn to trust you Kanika, and you must trust yourself."

I nodded, and he left me. I sat down on the floor near the boys bed, determined that I would find a way to break his fever in three days.

The next several hours were tedious. I washed his head, and body with the cool water, and checked every few minutes to see how his breathing was as Kamuzu had instructed me. For the first day it was like this, the boy did not stir, did not move, just slept and slept and slept. Then, when the cool night came, and I dared to sleep, the horror began. He sat bolt up and screamed and screamed his eyes wide and terrified. I reached for his arms, but he shoved me away, howling for his mother and father.

"Stop screaming," I yelled to him, and wrapped my arms around him holding him tightly. He struggled, trying to pull free of my grip. He would have if he wasn't weak with his illness, but after a while he stopped and started to sob. I felt his body shake and laid him back down stroking his head and hair. "It's alright, whatever's scaring you, its not here, not now."

In the day he stayed mostly calm, once in a great while opening his eyes, attempting to speak, but then he would fall back into his death like sleep. A few times during the three days of hell, I had to throw water on him to wake him up. He refused to eat too, shoving the food away and moaning. I wondered if he was worried he wouldn't be able to keep it down, so I diluted it, and had him drink it. That seemed to work for the time being. The nights were by far the worst. On the first one it was bad, but the second, all hell broke loose as he tried to flee and I had to tackle him to the sand and wrestle with him to lie down.

"Are you insane, you idiot," I scolded him as I pinned his arms and sat on his chest. "You could hurt yourself. Please don't run off like that, or you could die."

"Let me go!" he shrieked, and tried to wrench his wrists from my grip. I wound up having to lie down on top of him to stop him from moving. Najja found me the next morning, and put us both inside the tent, telling me that I should be more careful, and putting save on the bruises the boy gave me. He slept for most of the third day, and the third night. Then late into the morning, I heard him give off a deep groan and saw him sitting up drenched in sweat, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He shook, and looked around, his eyes clear but unsure, and he caught sight of me.

I had been sitting up trying to eat something, anything, as exhaustion had made my bones weak. For three days I had been trying to make him rest, trying to make sure he stayed alive broke his fever. My sisters, especially Lapis, thought I was mad to try and save him.

"Let him die," Hasina had told me when I went to get food from her on the third day. "You're only prolonging the inevitable."

I had scowled at her, and ran out of the tent, determined to see him through. I told Father I would break the fever in three days or die trying and that's what I'm going to do.

I sat watching him, and he licked his lips, glaring at me as if I were just an obstacle in the road that he could kick aside whenever he chose to. I hesitantly returned the stare and he spoke in a weak voice, "Who in hells are you, and why by Set am I here?"

"You're in a tent on an oasis in the middle of the desert," I told him, and he frowned more.
"I can plainly see that little girl," I took offence at his tone of voice and scowled at him. "But you didn't tell me who you were and why I was in this place with you? Or are you one of those annoying slavers that tend to capture rare looking people."

I crossed my arms at this comment and glared at him, "I am nothing of the sort; I'm a traveler with a trade caravan. My name is Kanika, and I was assigned to take care of you." I shifted over by him and reached out to touch his head, but he drew back from me and gave me a look as if I was crazy.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You had a fever," I explain peevishly and he swatted my hand as if it was a fly. I rubbed it, trying to take away the stinging sensation. "You were sick and I was told to nurse you back to health."

He closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again as if remembering something, "Don't tell me you were the figure I saw walking though the sand storm." I nodded and he leaned back with a groan, "You idiot, you could have gotten hurt. Dumb girl."

"Excuse me, but this dumb girl just saved your life," I shot back and he closed his eyes. "And you could give me your name you know, I'm tired of calling you boy."

"Feh, that's what some people used to call me all the time," he said reluctantly then looked at me. "Why should I tell you my name, anyway? Not like it's going to make much a difference."

I looked at him puzzled and he finished, "You found me here, and you're going to leave me here. It's as simple as that. Probably give me food then be on your way." He glanced over at the bowel I had, "By the way I'm hungry, are you going to feed me or what?"

I sighed, and was about to hand over the bowl, "Not until you give me your name."

He laughed, "Oh that's really smart of you; with-holding food from a sick man. Besides if I really wanted to I could just steal it from you and be done with it. "

"You're not that sick, you're talking to me right now." I pointed out and he looked at me then started to breath shallowly again, and I reached over to feel his head. It was cool to the touch and instantly he grabbed my dish, as my other hand was busy checking to see if he was chest was rising and falling. "Hey!"

He gobbled down my food in quick bites, "Blah, who made this, it's really bad."

"My sisters," I inform him and he spat out a bit of heavy rice.

"Well tell your sisters that I said that they're bad cooks."

I crossed my arms over my knees, and sat back down, "And who should I say thinks this?"

He sniffed, said, "Bakura," and started to eat again.