The desert beneath our feet stretched out forever. There was nowhere in the world but where we were, and where we were didn't seem to be changing. Curtains of heat fell over us as we trudged wearily forward in silence. I wondered to myself why we couldn't talk; we were supposed to be the most closely connected beings in the world. Why was it so hard for us to have a simple conversation?

"There's someone out here."

My thoughts shattered at Knives' careless comment.

"What?" I asked needlessly. I had heard and understood him perfectly.

"Over there. It moved," he said defensively, as if that proved the existence of whatever it was. He pointed to a low dune not far away.

Squinting, I followed his finger. "I don't see anyone."

He sighed, exasperated that I wasn't using my eyes properly. "Right there. It just moved again. You're looking right at it. I know your eyes are perfect, you're just not using them right," he chided. I automatically ignored the insult.

The air melted and rippled weakly between my eyes and the dune Knives was pointing to. I shaded my eyes with a hand and stared determinedly. If he was right and someone was out here, they would need help.

For half a second, something feebly waved in the air before dropping again.

I took off.

"Hey!" Knives yelled, half-shocked at my sudden leap. He didn't move after me.

Clouds flew up with each step and I nearly tumbled head over heels in my rush, but I raced to the stranded person. Every second counted now. Whoever they were, they were probably knocking quite loudly at Death's door. I came sliding to a halt on my knees as I reached them.

There were two of them, and so small. They were children, no older than seven, a boy and a girl. Huddled together on the sand, they looked like they were dead. A cold knot tied itself in my stomach.

"Vash!" yelled Knives, his voice half-questioning. I waved my hand, not sure if I was reassuring him or beckoning him over.

The boy stirred, and I started fumbling for my canteen. He let out a thin moan. Awkwardly, I pulled him into my lap and put the bottle to his mouth. Eyes still closed, he swallowed a few times and dropped his head against me.

One-handed, I reached out to the girl, lying on her side in the sand. She hadn't moved at all. I shook her shoulder gently. She didn't respond.

I bit my lip and shifted the boy, propping him up with my right arm. I turned her onto her back and shook her again; no effect.

"Vash."

Knives appeared behind me, having moved soundlessly over. He looked disapprovingly down at me.

"I. She's. Knives, I think she's dead." I said, trying to rouse her. I could sense his apathy immediately.

"So what?" he said mildly, knowing it would anger me. But he dropped to his knees next to me and held my canteen as I pulled her over.

Still holding the boy, I shook her once more, more roughly. Nothing. I knit my brows and felt myself on the verge of tears. Had I failed another one?

Knives reached across me and lifted the girl easily into his lap. I watched uneasily; what was he doing?

He held her gently, seeming harmless. He carefully checked her pulse and, without a word, pushed her hair out of her face. I relaxed. He meant her no harm.

No sooner had I thought this than he clamped her nose shut.

"Knives!" I cried, trying feebly to pry his arm away from her with my left hand while holding the boy. He shrugged me off as the girl erupted into a coughing fit, sitting up quickly and gasping for air. He pulled his hand away immediately. Her small face looked pained. He watched her with a frown as her breathing normalized. She fell back into his arm weakly. I gripped the boy hesitantly.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she fixed her gaze upon Knives. Her mouth opened to form a question, but she couldn't seem to find any words and remained silent.

Knives waited for her question and, when it didn't come, asked her, "Do you have a name?"

"Ah." she panted. "Arachne."

I saw Knives flinch slightly at the name. We both knew the root of the word; Rem ensured we knew Old Earth mythology.

"Knives," I said quickly, to distract him, "how far are we from Little Iowa?"

He frowned down at Arachne. "Five days' walk, at least."

Arachne blinked and struggled a little, looking at the boy. "Is Kiven okay?" Her voice was tiny and cracked with dryness. Knives glanced at me, repeating her silently and half-mockingly. *Is Kiven okay?*

I looked at the boy in my arms, mentally prodding at his life force, querying, testing. Weak, but enough to keep him going for another five days.

"Yeah," I said, giving her my best encouraging smile, "he's gonna be just fine."

Reassured, she slumped into a dead faint.

Knives gave me a look that spoke of all his contempt for me. "Don't bother. I already know what's going to happen. You're going to insist we take them with us to Little Iowa and get them food and water and shelter and so on, and I will refuse on the grounds that they are worthless disgusting beings no better than sand fleas, and you will blather on about the value of every life, and I will not care a bit, and you will give up and take the girl and start to carry them both and in order to save you from your folly I will take one of them from you and we will end up doing exactly as you please anyway, so let's save ourselves time and start walking," he said, rising with Arachne in his arms and turning towards Little Iowa. I scrambled out of the sand after him, hefting Kiven onto my shoulder.

"Glad you see things my way!" I said with a grin.