Garth watched the old man inhale a bowl of steaming noodles. The sight was oddly fascination yet utterly revolting as the dark soup trickled through his silvery beard. He was glad that Lorna walked in that moment puffing slightly as if she had been running. Garth's eyes snapped to her as she sat down clutching a small bag, as if in fear they would be taken away from her, and sucked on something. She gave the mage a sheepish smile then returned to concentrating on sucking what was in her mouth. The faery crawled out of her blouse and settled on her shoulder glowing a dim green.

"Whaffss sisa numa?" the old man said through a mouthful of noodle.

Garth blinked and leaned forward slightly. "Pardon Oota?"

The old man rolled his eyes and swallowed loudly, smacking his lips in appreciation. "I said, Whaffs sisa numa?"

Lorna giggled as the old man gave her a wink. Garth sighed inwardly with frustration and crossed his arms with a small huff. The old man reached out and grabbed a handful of Garth's dark cheek, tugging it forcefully. Garth cried out in alarm and as the old man suddenly let go he blinked in surprise. The old man chuckled and turned to Lorna with a soft expression.

"What's the faery's name dear?" he asked gently and Lorna smiled in response.

"I named him Yi," she said, "It means 'light' in Samarkand, I thought it was a good name."

The old man nodded and mused to himself. "How do you know that 'Yi' is light in Samarkand?" he asked curiously, no hint of menace in his voice as he regarded the child.

Lorna blinked, her small face creased with bafflement and her mauve eyes suddenly went wide. Her mouth opened and then closed as she tried to think of a way to explain it. Eventually she resigned herself to a shrug and the old man smiled warmly.

Garth was about to ask the old man something when a scream shook the silence and shadowy something that radiated dark fury stalked past the tent flap. A moment later Reaver appeared through the flaps with an air of triumph despite the darkening black eye that was appearing on his face. He eased himself into a pouffe next to Lorna and stretched like a lazy cat sinking deep into the softness of the cushion. He crossed his legs and rested his head on his hands in a relaxed fashion with a sly smile on his lips.

"What did you do now?" Garth asked in an exasperated voice as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he felt like he was surrounded by children Lorna's presence excluded; he sighed thoughtfully.

"I did nothing," Reaver replied flippantly, "she needs to loosen up."

The old man chuckled. "You didn't try to grope her in any fashion?"

A huge grin appeared upon Reaver's face that threatened to split it in half. "Put it this way," he said in a slow voice, "She has rather resplendent pair of fun bags."

Lorna blinked as her jaws crunched down on the remainder of the sweet and stared at Reaver thoughtfully as Garth choked. The old man burst out laughing and clapped his hand over his knee creating a loud smack as he rocked back and forth on his pouffe.

"I like you!" he managed to exclaim through his laughter, "boy, that was brilliantly said, I must remember that, 'sigh', fun bags indeed."

He continued to chuckle despite the daggers flying at him as Garth regarded the old man stoically even as his fingers tapped the tops of his knees. Reaver on the other hand looked genuinely surprised as he grinned with a mixture of amusement and uncertainty. Lorna continued to stare at Reaver in a confused fashion as she popped another sweet in her mouth.

"What does resplendent mean?" she asked curiously tilting her head in emphasis.

Reaver looked down and smiled. "Its just another word to describe an object other, similar words could be like lustrous, splendid, splendiferous, splendorous, sublime, superb, get the drift?"

Lorna frowned in puzzlement, but nodded anyway. "I think so... so your saying superb pair of fun bags... why does she have a new toy?"

Laughter echoed round the tent leaving the little girl to pout in her confusion. Just as Reaver opened his mouth to explain a pouffe collided with his face knocking him off his own. Garth coughed slightly and smiled gently down at Lorna.

"Your a bit young to go into those kind of things little one..."

"Oh, he means boobs!" she exclaimed looking from Garth to Reaver, "Sparrow always said you had low interests when it comes to women, but I always thought she meant lower."

Another wave of laughter resonated round the tent as the old man, Oota and Reaver rolled in their own mirth. Lorna smiled shyly as she cradled her bag of sweets. The Faery on her shoulder jumped, startled by the noise and took a keen interest in the bag of sweets trying to look into the bag as it sniffed curiously.

"Would look like its too late for that Garth," Reaver grinned and looked down at Lorna, "Well, well, I assume Sparrow told you."

Lorna nodded and the two heroes looked mildly shocked.

"But your only what... seven... eight," Garth protested. Lorna's face went blank and her eyes narrowed almost sarcastically.

"I'm not Eight, I am this much," she held up her hands with all fingers and thumb extended so it counted as ten.

Garth blinked and he turned his head to look at Reaver who managed to crawl back on his cushion again. A cheeky smirk played on the pirates lips as they regarded each other. The old man covered his hand to hide the smile as his eyes danced with laughter.

"Was it me or was that sarcasm coming from a ten year old?" Garth asked the shock plain on his face.

"I think that was," Reaver said patting the girl on the head affectionately, "She's coming along nicely." Lorna giggled then grinned as more laughter filled the tent at her expense.

Reaver leaned over slight with a curious expression. "How did Sparrow tell you about sex?" he asked, "She always struck me as the shy type when coming to that sort of thing."

Lorna gave him an 'are you stupid' look. "Well she told me that to make babies you need a man and a women to physically connect. They don't usually do this unless they love each other very much."

"I wouldn't say that's always an incentive to have sex," Reaver said with a indifferent sniff.

"Yes, I did ask her about that," Lorna said as she frowned slightly, "she said that... people like you just 'do it' to gain pleasure, but for someone to use another like that is demeaning when something so intimate is used so cheaply."

Reaver looked down at Lorna with a sombre expression. "Ah I see," is all he said and he leaned back to regard the ceiling blankly. Confused, Lorna looked to the other two men who watched knowingly, but said nothing.

Later that evening Lorna watched as people danced about a fire. The sky had long since darkened leaving it speckled with glowing, silvery stars. The large fire illuminated the faces of many of the nomads who ate and drank fitfully as children played a strange game nearby. Lorna watched the children speculatively and yet her gaze held a sense of longing. A hand on her shoulder made her look into Sparrow's caring face that held a sad smile.

"You can go play too if you want," Sparrow said encouragingly. Lorna shook her head and smiled back.

"No, its okay, I will go to sleep, I'm tired," with that the small girl stood and walked away when leaving a Sparrow to watch worriedly. Corban seated himself next to the hero handing her a goblet. He followed her line of sight to the girl that just disappeared behind a tent. HE turned back to Sparrow and looked down at her with a smile.

"Is she ok?" the man asked and Sparrow pursed her lips thoughtfully. She would hazard a guess at a few reasons.

"Hmm, she will be," the women replied turning back to the fire and taking the goblet that Corban had handed to her. She sniffed the cup and a familiar fragrance rose to greet her. She smiled gently as she recognised it.

"Ah, Fireflower wine," she murmured more to her self. Corban looked surprised.

"You know of it?" he asked curiously leaning forward a little.

Sparrow hesitated a moment the memory of Reaver raced through her mind the feel of his hands running over her skin, but then the thought of him groping her breast sent a heated flush over her cheeks. She was not sure whether or not it was a good thing or if she was being angry for the sake of being angry. She let out an irritated sigh and nodded to Corban's question.

"Yeah, the previous town I tried some," she lied glibly smiling at the man. He shrugged and looked to the fire where many danced in time to music that surrounded them. His gazed shifted towards where a band of men beat upon drums and struck cords upon various string instruments some larger than others. It was then he noticed a familiar figure surrounded by young women. It always seemed to Corban that the pirate always had either a glass in his hand, his gun or a women. A fierce hatred for the man rose from his gut threatening to make him throw up in his disgust. He had never met such a pretentious and conceited individual. He grunted sourly and looked down to see Sparrow was also staring at Reaver. Her eyes were narrowed and he could see the muscles in her jaw ripple. She turned her head away and stared into the sand by her feet. He did not have to be an expert to know what that gaze meant and his anger only grew because of it.

He coughed a little and shifted uncomfortably as a silence fell between them. It felt like an invisible cage separating them both from the rest of the camp and as he watched the flames dance over Sparrow's pale skin he had the sudden urge to run his fingers over the smooth flesh. He mentally shook himself and held up his drink towards her.

"A toast," he said in a cheerful voice, "To present friends and good fortune for the future."

She tilted her head slightly to look at him from the corner of her eyes, an amused smile curling the edges of her lips.

"To present friends, good fortune for the future and..." she hesitated her expression thoughtful, "the strength to do what's right."

She smiled and knocked her glass against his a dull clink before taking a sip. Corban sighed at her words and he nibbled his lip nervously.

"Why were you and Reaver fighting last night?" she suddenly asked looking at his nervous face, which soon became blank as he blinked at her.

"I'm not sure," he said with a frown, "I was praying when he jumped me." He shrugged and regarded the figure of Reaver with a dark scowl. "It was quite unprovoked."

Sparrow made a small noise of wonder and looked into the fire. "If you say so," she eventually said in a uninterested tone yet in her belly an uneasy feeling settled as she knew Reaver only something if there was a reason. Usually it was for his own gain, but if it also meant doing something for his own survival, much like an animal. That was an interesting thought, but then as her thoughts drifted she made a profound realisation that even the likes of her was like an animal and this thought she did not relish.

Lorna lay on the bunk staring at the canvas ceiling of her tent. Yi, the faery was curled up by her ear and it breathed gently in her ear. As she stared her body starved for sleep, but this nagging feeling in her mind refused to let her sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she see the children playing but then they would morph to look mangled and disfigured in her mind. A wave of tears threatened as her throat clenched violently. She swallowed trying steel herself against it as she turned on her side and buried her face in the cover. She heard the tent flap rustle and she bolted upright in bed. She sighed with relief when the old man stood in entrance with a big grin.

"I have gososhi!" he announced in a cheery voice and Lorna blinked at him.

"What's gosohi?" she asked as he held up a wooden bowl. The torches blazed to life at the touch of the old man's will and the sudden brightening of the tent stung her eyes. She rubbed her eyes and blinked up at him as he sat on a stool next to her bunk.

"It is a sweet pie made from Goshi fruit," he explained, "its about yay big, looks like a hedgehog and smells awful, but it tastes grreat."

He growled the 'r's making him sound like a cat and Lorna giggled at his joke. He grinned holding up the bowl that had the pie and the filling looked pinkish. Lorna sniffed at it curiously and peered up at the old man with large appealing eyes. He chuckled and handed her a spoon with the bowl. She took the spoon and dug it into the pie taking off a sizeable piece. She looked at it and then held it to Oota Dabun who peered down at it with mild surprise. He smiled and shook his head in silent decline. He gave her a wink and she began to eat slowly.

Oota Dabun watched her for a time as the pie began to disappear rapidly and when she finished he took the bowl and spoon, made a strange dismissive gesture, and the bowl disappeared. Lorna watched in amazement and stared at the old man questioningly, but he replied with a mysterious smile.

"Now my dear," he said regarding her seriously, "what to do with you."

Lorna tilted her head inquisitively as he mused to him self the deep wrinkles of his forehead lying in small folds as he thought. His frown lightened as he looked down at her seeing her quizzical expression. He held out his gnarled, bony hand to her, which she took without question. They stared at each other as moments ticked by and her eyes widened.

"Oota..." she began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Child, in the days ahead I will be with you," he began, "One of your fellow adventurers has something that belongs to me." He frowned deeply as he looked away to stare at the canvas wall his eyes glazing as if seeing some far off, invisible object.

"Oota, if that is what you are... then... what am I?" she asked her eyes becoming shiny with unshed tears. As if sensing her pain the faery awoke and jumped to its spindly feet beating its wings so it glowed a concerned blue.

The old man smiled as he looked down at her and patted her head comfortingly. "You are not so dissimilar to me," he said and Lorna's face brightened.

"Then... can you teach me?" Lorna asked staring at him with wide expectant eyes. Oota sat back with start and returned the stare with a surprised gaze. He seemed to think about this and Lorna's demeanour became anxious. He looked down with a sigh as he mulled over the pros and cons in his mind, but Lorna seemed insistent.

"Please, Oota, If you taught me then... then..." she paused as she tried to find the right words to say and then she smiled brightly, "it would help me understand myself better and … and maybe give me a chance to become useful to Sparrow!"

The thought cheered her greatly. Images of her and Sparrow in combat against creatures and travelling on quests filled her young mind. Excitement bubbled in her chest and she clasped her hands tightly in fear she may burst apart from it. The old man regarded her gravely his eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips.

"All right," he finally said after what seemed an eternity, "Only if you promise to say nothing to the others of this until they are ready to comprehend such a thing."

Lorna looked startled. "Why?"

"They are just not ready," he affirmed. Reluctantly she nodded but then a cheeky smile curled her lips and she giggled.

"Thank you Oota," she said with genuine gratefulness and she smiled. Oota returned the smile and nodded.

"Don't worry about it child," he told her, "just remember don't be afraid to call for me, okay."

She nodded. "Yes sir... um, can we start now?" She asked hopefully.

The old man laughed heartily and shook his head. "Your keen aren't you," he said with a smile, "no not now, its a bit late and Sparrow might come back soon."

Lorna looked disappointed and reluctantly returned to laying on the bed. The faery twittered in a confused fashion as it nuzzled her face. He tucked the blanket under her chin and stood to leave. As he reached the tent flap he turned back to see that she had already fallen asleep. He smiled warmly as the torches extinguished themselves with a poof. He stepped out into the freezing cold of the desert night and closed the tent flap. He stared up at the stars his expression growing sober as he took a deep breath and sighed. His attention was drawn to something that fluttered over a pavilion and he scowled darkly when a crow looked down at him. It let out a benevolent caw as if defying him. With an angry growl the old man shouted and threw fireballs at it. With a shriek it took flight nimbly avoiding the fiery rain that was dealt upon it and disappeared into the night leaving the old man to fume. He walked off muttering darkly to himself.

"I hate crows," he muttered as he slipped past the tents towards the bonfire.

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This was a bit shorter than I thought it would be but, meh. I thought I better get this done now as I have a lot of uni work to catch up on, so the next might not be for a while.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed it and leave a review if you have any comments. X3