*sigh* if you thought the last chapter was short…then this one is absolutely tiny. I tried to combine this chapter with the next one to make it somewhat longer…but then the whole chapter scheme was off, and the one after the next one just didn't flow as smoothly. So instead of combining this chapter with the next one (12), I'm going to combine 12 with 13. And that's why this one is so damn short.

Questions! I'll try to answer them in FAQ format here:

What happened to the other countries during the Devastation?

They were covered by desert too. Think like this: tortallan survivors became the black tribes, scanran survivors became the maroon tribes, and etc. etc. with more countries with their own individual color-coded tribes.

What happened to the animals during the Devastation?

Just like the humans, some managed to survive, some didn't. except, they had a much smaller survival rate.

What exactly happened during the Devastation?

Well, I would love to tell you…but that would be giving more of the story away. You will find out later though.

Why can't Roald age/be injured/etc.?

It's all the ring's fault!!

Why doesn't Roald just cut off his finger to get rid of the ring?

First of, can I say 'owie, owwwie, owwie!'?. but here's a more substantial explanation: let's pretend that Roald did try to cut off the ring, and in the process, his finger. Then the ring would just magically transport itself back onto Roald's hand on a different finger, and then heal the finger that he had cut off, making his hand (once again) as good as new. And the process goes on and on if Roald insists on trying to cut off his finger again.

Why Roald? (why did he get the ring?)

He got lucky.

Well, after the mage died, the ring decided to magically transfer itself to Roald. Why not Roald? He's got the Gift, and he's next in line to the throne. If you were some magical parasite that wanted as much power as possible, would you want a knight or a prince? An older king or a still youthful prince? I'd say that the ring is pretty smart for a piece of metal.

Who is the mage; have we met him before?

I'm still trying to decide if making Ozorne the mage is worth the headache of a plot it would cause later. (was his gift even yellow? I don't remember.) so don't be surprised if I just decide to make the mage a random new character that I made up. And yes, the mage died before the Devastation -- Roald got the ring before the Devastation. And that's why he was able to survive it.

What religion are the tribes?

I can't say that they are of any religion, let's just say that they believe in making their own luck.

You're going to hook Kaprice up with Roald, aren't you?

Heh…heh.

Would you be so horribly disappointed if I did? *smile* Well, actually, I'm still not quite sure what's going to happen in the ending, and it's the ending that will decide who Kaprice ends up with. (I guess you'll just have to wait until then to find out) :)

11. A Pleasure

Sixth day of Dawne

"Good morning," Roald greeted her as she stepped out of his tent. He was kneeling over a fire.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Cooking breakfast. You do want to eat, don't you?"

"Don't baby me," she said with a face. "I could have cooked some food for myself."

"But I enjoy doing it," he said lightly. "I haven't cooked food in a long time. It's nice to finally have a good reason to do so."

She grimaced. "But you're still going out of your way to take care of me. By the time I leave here, I will be positively spoiled."

"So will I."

She raised an eyebrow. "You? Why? I'm not the one cooking food for you. How would you be so indulged?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Your company."

"Hah," she scoffed. She sat next to him by the fire. "My company isn't worth that much."

He simply turned to gaze at her silently.

"But then again, I suppose anything is better compared to seven decades of solitude," she amended, breaking his silence.

He let it go at that.

"Since you mentioned the topic of leaving, when do you plan to?" Roald asked her while poking at the low fire with a stick. A delicious smell rose from the pot that hung just out of the fire's reach.

"I…" Her voice faded into silence. "I don't know," she finally said.

"Is there a certain tribe you want to go to?"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I think the more appropriate question would be: is there a tribe that would want me?" She closed her eyes, not wanting to see pity on Roald's face.

"Kaprice?" He waited for her to reopen her eyes.

And when she did, she found no pity, only understanding.

"You can stay here if you want. For as long as you like," Roald said to her quietly.

"Damn it, Roald." She got to her feet angrily. "Stop being so nice to me. You don't even know me. So stop. For all you know, I...I could be a murderer. A thief. A cursed, idiotic freak." She blinked, suddenly realizing that her words could almost be described as a yell.

She didn't understand him. Why was he so kind to her? Why wasn't he judgmental and condemnatory, like the others? Why wasn't he suspicious? Afraid? Mistrusting? Damn him and his…his kindness.

But Roald didn't look at all put out by her sudden outbursts.

"I am known as the Wanderer to the desert tribes, Kaprice." His voice was so quiet that she could barely hear his words. "If you think that you are a freak…then what am I?"

She started to back away from him, but he grabbed her hand.

"Kaprice?" His blue eyes were dark with concern.

"I--I need some time for myself, Roald. Please, leave me alone."

"Kaprice…"

Roald reluctantly loosened his grip around her fingers and let her go.

~*~*~*~

The sun had set and the stars were twinkling.

And Roald still hadn't returned.

Despite her earlier anger, she was worried. Which was foolish, of course. He had told her that he couldn't be killed. But still…

After she had stated her desire to be left alone, Roald had put out the fire and promptly left his oasis.

She felt bad about the way she had snapped at him. She had been angry at his kindness. Because she didn't understand it.

Because she was afraid of it.

She was afraid to actually relax and enjoy herself. Because the one time that she had actually let that happen…she had lost it all in the next moment. And the pain from that event, be it three years old or thirty, she would remember forever.

Reality is a harsh judge.

She suddenly saw a familiar robed figure approach the blue dome, and she leaped to her feet. So when Roald stepped through his blue dome, she was waiting for him.

They stared at one another.

"It's late, Kaprice. Aren't you tired?"

"Not really." She paused. "What have you been doing all day long, Roald?"

He ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Wandering around, doing what The Wanderer does best," he said sardonically.

"I see…"

"If you still want some more time--" Roald started to step back toward his dome.

There, he was being nice to her again.

"No." She grabbed his wrist. "I don't need any more time."

"Very well," he said formally. "Will you be sleeping inside or outside of the tent tonight?"

"Outside," she answered quietly after a hesitant pause. "I want to look at the stars."

~*~*~*~

"Roald?"

Roald turned onto his side on his bedroll a foot away from her own. "Hmm?"

"Thanks. For everything."

There was a short pause. "It was a pleasure."

A.N. - I'll be going through the rest of my chapters to make sure they're longer. But making chapters longer will have a drawback: fewer updates.

I'll just have to wait and see how things work out.

~krizsta