Quick note: School is starting back up again in about a week and updates are going to come less often and at weird intervals. I'll try to keep writing as often as possible but I'm probably not going to have regular free time for a while. I apologize in advance.

Sparring before dinner became a habit after that second night, whether the dragons went hunting or not. Corrin was still no match for Murtagh, and often woke the next morning sore, but he had hours in the saddle to recover and the chance to improve his swordsmanship was something to look forward to during the monotonous days of flying. Murtagh too seemed to enjoy the respite from his own thoughts, and he was endlessly helpful in correcting Corrin's novice mistakes.

A little more than a week into their journey, midway through the day's flying time, Thorn abruptly banked to the right and angled out over the plains. Kiera hesitantly followed his lead. Corrin sat up as tall as he could in the saddle, but he still couldn't see what Thorn was flying towards until the red male pulled into a tight circle, half-hovering as he looked down. Kiera tilted her wings in a maneuver which allowed Corrin to see the cluster of horse-mounted humans, all shouting in a tongue which he didn't know.

They were surprisingly few, no more than thirty all together, and only a few more horses. They were clad in concealing leather garments, and upon closer examination Corrin caught sight of a few with what looked like ivory decoration. All of them were clearly terrified by the dragon's approach, and after studying them for a few moments, Thorn and Kiera wheeled back towards the river. Corrin turned in his saddle to watch them, and observed the nomads turning as a group and galloping south, in the opposite direction of the dragons.

He mused on the sighting for the rest of the day, occasionally consulting with Kiera. That night, after Murtagh had roundly defeated his attempts at swordwork, he mentioned it over dinner, curious to hear the older Shur'tugal's reactions..

"You know," he began, swallowing a mouthful of food. "A lot of the nomadic tribes back home traded wares in Aberon. And the general wisdom is that the most important thing for them is water."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at him. "What's your point?"

"Well," Corrin waved his hand towards the riverbank. "The easiest source of water for miles around is right here, but we've never seen any of them except for that tiny group. How are they surviving? All things need water to live."

Murtagh ate in thoughtful silence for a minute before he responded. "They could have wells, out away from the river, or a village or meeting place of some sort a few days away, that sends outriders to bring water to them. It would be difficult to grow any crops with the latter approach, though."

"Which leads into another question," Corrin said, curiosity piqued. "What do they eat? What plants grow out here that humans can use? There's mostly just this grass, and a few animals that survive on it."

Keira and I have been eating from those giant herds of antelope, Thorn contributed. They have very sharp horns, but they do not seem to know how to use them. They might be safe prey for a nomadic society, and there are plenty of them.

Corrin frowned. "Are the horses fast enough to catch them?"

If not they might be eating the horses, suggested Kiera, blinking a red eye at him.

"There were not," Murtagh said decisively, "enough horses in that group to regularly cull them without cutting into the breeding stock."

If we assume for argument's sake, Thorn mused, that they have the village-and-outrider setup, or the village and wells, then it is possible that they keep a larger group of horses out there that can support the dietary needs of a tribe.

"A herding people," Corrin laughed. He had a sudden vision of one of the proud, dark-skinned warriors in Surda chasing after belligerent sheep, and suppressed his hilarity with difficulty. Kiera caught the stray thought and huffed amusement at him.

Murtagh nodded. "And if they have a village or meeting place by a well or two, that might also allow them to support some crop growth."

"It might not be able to support that many people though…" Corrin bit his lip as he thought about it. How long would a horse or two feed the group they'd seen for? He had no reference, but it couldn't have been very long..

Murtagh sighed. "If they had the capability to feed 'that many people', they would probably have developed an organized civilization instead of isolated nomadic tribes. And in one aspect Corrin is quite correct: they can't do either without water." He gestured to the riverbank as Corrin had. "My guess is that there just aren't all that many of them, and that's why we haven't seen anyone."

Corrin nodded agreement, his curiosity mostly sated, and the conversation lapsed back into silence. He glanced around as he finished the last few bites of food. The wind had started blowing out of the east without him noticing, and the hissing of the grass and the crackling of the fire mingled into a pleasant rush of noise. And then woven into that noise was something else.

Corrin looked up and out at the night as the first, faint strains of music became audible. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Murtagh's head lift as well. It was faint and far away: he could barely hear it over the ambience and it was drowned out entirely anytime the wind picked up. But what he could hear was a high, sweet song, that had to be an instrument because no voice sounded like that. The melody was slow and lilting and maybe a little sad, and all four sat in silence until it faded back into the night.

Corrin blinked and felt as though he was rising out of deep water. He shook himself and then looked at the moon and jumped. "It's late," he said blankly. Murtagh tipped his head back to look at the moon and made some noise of agreement, getting to his feet to bank the fire.