Moffitt trusted Janvier's horse, but not Janvier. When they decided to keep traveling for another few hours, Moffitt watched Anah's silent conversation with Zahir, and somehow, he knew Anah, and Zahir, were telling the truth when they said that the horse wouldn't run off if Janvier commanded him to.

Being frustrated and conflicted was immensely draining. Moffitt chose not to say anything for the rest of that day's ride. He was glad to have Anah back, and let her know that with plenty of gentle strokes down the length of her spine.

He was reluctant to allow Janvier to eat when they stopped for the night. Both Dietrich and Anah insisted that Janvier have food, leaving Moffitt alone with his thoughts of vengeance. He was tired, but not tired enough to sleep, so he offered to take the first watch and make sure Janvier didn't try to run off on foot.

Janvier wasn't tired, either. He sat near the dying fire, anxiously looking over at Moffitt. "I can tell by the look in your eyes that you really, really want to kill me," he said.

"Depends on how much you talk," Moffitt replied. "Before you even try, 'sorry' isn't going to work, not when I know how little meaning you're going to put into it."

"I will apologize in time. Even if I mean it now, you will not believe it, will you?"

"I don't know. You haven't exactly proven that you want to change yet."

Janvier went silent for a moment. He sighed before saying, "I am not all that certain of what I want, Jack. Revenge has been my driving force since the end of the war."

In a way, Moffitt could sympathize. He didn't like it, but he could sympathize. He could still remember, clearly, the tight, pulsing, hot rage in his chest whenever he just looked at the German guards in the camp he and the rest of the Rats had to liberate. It squeezed, harder and harder…

Like a snake.

Moffitt pulled himself from his memories, and realized he had been holding his breath. His heart was rapidly thudding in his chest. He tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting Janvier to notice.

Do you want things to change or not? Moffitt asked himself. You were willing to give Aumeier, who served the SS, a chance, when you had no reason to trust him. He had so many chances to turn on you, and he didn't. He was genuine in what he wanted. Ghislain could be lying. His whole story about wanting revenge could be one big lie. Why should I assume that, though? This wasn't who he was when he was living with us in Cambridge. Dietrich seems to believe him. Anah thinks we should give him another chance. They've never been wrong in their assessments of people… but there's always a first for everything.

Moffitt was pulled from his thoughts by Snowstripe walking over to nuzzle the top of his head. The horse was giving him a confused look, then nudged him in the direction of his tent. "I'm not tired right now," Moffitt said. "I'll go to sleep eventually."

"Is this the same horse you were assigned in the Scots Greys?" Janvier asked. "I remember seeing an Arabian just like it when you fled the village after destroying the fox's paw."

Moffitt nodded. "Yes indeed. This is the same horse." He thought back to what Dietrich had told him about Janvier's history with horses. "Is it true your father didn't want you riding anymore just because you lost a few events?"

"I was considered not disciplined enough for it, and I pushed back against more rigorous training. Whether or not you want to believe me is up to you."

"To be fair, it would explain why you were so shy when it came to working with my father's horses. You never did anything without one of us saying you could, even though we told you that you were allowed to work with them or ride them whenever you wanted."

"I considered it to be more polite, but… you are right. I was hesitant to ask or do anything on my own."

Moffitt thought for a moment, not paying much attention to Snowstripe's hunt for affection. "Ghislain, do you have any idea how much my father would've fought to get you out of the situation you were in if he knew about it?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Janvier replied. "At the time, I did not want to disrupt my education, and… I was also afraid of being perceived as weak. I thought of it as running and hiding from something difficult, something that I felt I needed to overcome."

"We all have challenges in life that we can't run away from, but there are others that aren't worth fighting and suffering over. You didn't come from a good place. You were expected to be perfect at everything, to the point where if you didn't succeed at something, you weren't allowed to continue, even if you enjoyed it. That's not something you should've continued to live with. We would have tried to help you. You didn't have to keep all that to yourself. You were in a place where you were free to talk about it."

"I never had that before."

"I know. I'm not trying to make you ashamed for it. You were ruled by fear, and thrown into another terrible situation when the war started." Moffitt managed to look Janvier in the eye. "I gave you a chance to pull you out, to help you, and you didn't take it. Blaming me for not helping you isn't going to solve anything, and all it's done is push you into a dark place where everything revolves around revenge. You botched up your first chance. Not me, not your father, not Leitzke. You botched it up. I explained to you that things could change, but you had to make that choice. You chose not to. You were blinded by your search for fame and fortune. That hasn't gotten you very far, has it?"

Janvier hesitated to answer, but eventually gave a defeated-sounding sigh. "No, it… has not."

"So, what will you do now?"

"Does it matter? You will have me thrown in prison when you return to Britain."

"I'm willing to give you another chance. You… were right when you told me that I wasn't going to be the same person when the war ended, but that doesn't mean everything has to change. Admittedly, everything has changed. I can't deny that. The simple fact of having you as a friend, rather than as my enemy, would still be something of a similarity to my life before the war. I'll take even vague similarities at this point."

More silence. "Your snake—Anah—told me that Michael died during the war. I told her that you did not need me as a brother, since you already had one, and she told me he was killed during an air raid."

Moffitt wasn't sure he wanted to discuss that, but he also didn't think there was anything to be gained by hiding. "And you want to know what happened after? I learned that just before my team embarked on a mission, and I couldn't focus. I was so upset that… I killed two guards, for the sake of killing them. I wanted revenge. Nothing else. I killed those two men in cold blood, and I have to live with that. I can't… I can't think about my brother without thinking of the fact that I killed two people who did nothing to me. That's what revenge will get you. It's been about nine years since that happened, and I haven't come to terms with it, with Michael's death, or that I murdered those guards."

"Anah brought that up as well. That was something I doubted you were capable of doing, but… listening to her, and now hearing it from you… I believe it. It does not sound all that different to what… I would be doing if I were to succeed at my own goals. The only difference is that mine were calculated. Yours were spontaneous."

"That's really the only difference. Both… Both aren't right."

"Killing those guards would not have brought your brother back. I… I planned on storming the prison where my family was being held, with Anah. After everything I read, I knew she would be the perfect tool to use."

Moffitt glared at Janvier. "Don't ever call Anah a tool. That's how she was treated by her previous master. She never would've served you, and I certainly wouldn't give you ownership of the pendant."

"Well, I know that now. My apologies."

Moffitt nodded in acceptance, then sighed, unsure if what he was doing was the right decision. "Like I said, I'm willing to give you another chance. It's up to you to take it."

No answer. Janvier drew up his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

"What do you have to work toward now? You have no home, and what will you do if something happens to Zahir? There are no vets out here. What will you do when he becomes too old to ride? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life alone, or do you want to find something—anything—that can give you a sense of purpose?"

"I would gladly tell that I am willing to accept your offer, but there is one problem—what should I do about my family? It would be heartless of me to leave them in prison."

"I don't think you should risk your life and your own freedom for people who probably won't appreciate it, especially since it's been several years now. I… might have an idea, but it'll require you coming back to England with us."

"How do I know this is not a trap so I can be arrested?"

"You don't. All you have is my word until we go home."

"Alright. When will we be going to England?"

"When we complete our task here, and that is to return to the crystal ball temple."

"Why?"

"For Anah. It's… a lot to explain. She still has difficulties accepting what happened to her in the past and has fears of being abandoned. Plus, she's been humming a mysterious tune that's had me curious for years. Apparently, Dietrich heard the same tune when his unit was stationed close to the temple."

"Ah. So, this is a personal quest of sorts. The fate of the world is not hanging in the balance."

"No. You'll be coming with us, but the question now is whether you're going to cooperate, or if we have to tie you to your horse."

Janvier looked down at the sand, then back at Moffitt. "Alright. I will come with you willingly."

Moffitt decided to remain cautious, but the memories of the ride to Tunis kept creeping to the front of his mind. He and Janvier had no one but their horses and each other to rely on in case something happened. That meant something to both of them, but Moffitt wondered if he was being naïve in his desire to regain that sense of trust and friendship.

He was starting to feel tired enough to try and sleep. Before he went into his tent to wake up Dietrich, Moffitt pulled a bag of Anah's homemade granola from his knapsack, and tossed it in Janvier's direction. Janvier looked unsure for a moment, but when Moffitt's back was turned, he could hear Janvier taking the bag and eating from it.

Dietrich and Icepatch took up the rear of the group as they continued their journey in the morning, keeping a close eye on Janvier and Zahir in the middle. Like Moffitt, Dietrich was cautious and aware that Janvier could be lying, but after having been mistrustful of everyone during the war, Dietrich wanted nothing more than to trust. At the same time, he knew trusting too eagerly could get him in trouble.

Things began to feel more and more familiar as they rode further west through Libya. Despite the heat, Dietrich began feeling cold. He knew they were getting closer to the places where everything went wrong.

It would be several more days until they reached some of those places, and Dietrich wasn't looking forward to it. A knot of nerves had begun forming in the pit of his stomach, and it grew with each passing day, each mile they completed. He found himself less willing to eat, and less willing to sleep.

Of course, it was Anah who noticed his strange behavior. She slithered up to him one evening, while he was watching over Janvier. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked.

"Fine," Dietrich muttered.

Anah shook her head. "I doubt it. You have not been well for many days, and I noticed you barely ate anything tonight."

Nothing got by her. Dietrich sighed. "I have spent four years fighting my depression. I am afraid that… returning to the places where everything went wrong will set me back. I understand that I have expressed these fears before, but… it is feeling much more real, and I really am terrified that I will not be strong enough when we encounter certain places."

"I am frightened, too, and I know Moffitt is. At this point, we must continue onward, regardless of how afraid we might be."

"Technically, we could turn north and leave this all behind, but I am not that afraid." Dietrich was quiet for a moment. He then held out his hand so Anah could slither up his arm. "I am also not comfortable with Janvier seeing us at our weakest."

"Progress is being made with him," Anah replied. "He and Moffitt have been talking at night. Sometimes, they only say a few words, but it does seem that they are both trying to rekindle what was lost."

"I just hope he is not setting a trap," Dietrich said.

"I have not seen anything in his mind that suggests it. If anything, he has no idea what he is doing. He is used to being alone, to not trusting anyone aside from his horse. Even when he was trying to convince Moffitt that assisting him in the search for the fox's paw was the only way forward, he did not trust the SS, but… he did trust Moffitt."

"You can see that far back in his memory?"

"Only if those memories are at the forefront of his mind, and they have been for the last several days. He does not want to admit it, though."

"Just because he trusts Moffitt does not mean that Moffitt will trust him in return. That trust has to be earned, but it is well worth the effort."

"It did not take you long to gain that trust," Anah said.

"No. And I saw no reason to not trust Moffitt. Granted, he proved himself quite adept at deception during the war, but I never once felt he was being deceptive when helping me after my suicide attempt."

"We should all be fortunate that Moffitt uses that gift for good. That is one of the reasons why he is the snake in the prophecy—snakes are often symbols of deception. Most people have a negative associate with that. Instead, Moffitt has turned that notion on its head. He also embodies the danger of the snake. Snakes will not strike unless provoked. Moffitt is friendly, forgiving, humble, and steadfastly loyal. He befriended Aumeier because Aumeier never provoked him. Those who provoke Moffitt, or threaten his friends and family—" Anah hissed and struck at nothing, "they learn the hard way why he is not just some university graduate from a prestigious background. He is not one to be trifled with, and he is more than willing to prove himself a worthy friend, partner, and ally."

"Even with you in the picture, I did feel the snake was an odd choice when I was first introduced to the prophecy. All my life, I assumed snakes were something to be feared. Now—" Dietrich found himself grinning as Anah rested her head on top of his, "they are less fearsome and more… curious, in a way."

Anah laughed a little. "They are still something to fear if messed around with. Much like Moffitt."

"Indeed." Dietrich looked over at Janvier's sleeping form. "Do you think him admitting that he trusts Moffitt will change anything, though?"

"Perhaps. Like you said, Moffitt will not trust him immediately, but it may be a piece in this puzzle we are attempting to complete."

"Now, what do you think will get him to admit that he trusts Moffitt?"

"That, I cannot say for sure, and I do not think even Janvier knows. That moment will come when it does."

"Much like the prophecy."

"Precisely," Anah said with a smile. "Do you feel better at all, dear?"

"A little," Dietrich replied.

"Whatever you feel when we encounter the places where the cries from the abyss were at their worst, know that it is not something to be ashamed of." Anah nuzzled Dietrich's left cheek. "It takes time and effort to heal. There will be setbacks, but I have faith in you to stay standing."

Even though he was sitting down, Dietrich suddenly felt dizzy at Anah's mention to "stay standing." He felt a tightness around his head, and heard muffled voices, including his own, saying, "Whatever you think you are about to do, sir, I would advise against it."

"Yes. The ability to stay standing is going to be vital to the last chapter of the prophecy," Anah said. "Building the strength to do so will take time."

"What do I need to stay standing for?"

"You will learn that when the time is right. For now, do not be ashamed of stumbling. Use it as a chance to learn, grow, and heal, so you may be stronger in the future."

Dietrich nodded a little. He knew he wouldn't receive any answers for the questions he had, so he continued watching Janvier. His eyelids were becoming heavy.

Anah gently nudged Dietrich's hand with her snout. "I think it is time for you to sleep, dear. Go wake up Moffitt."

Dietrich chose not to argue. As he entered the tent, though, he was greeted by the sound of quick, hard breathing and the sight of Moffitt twitching and writhing in his sleep. Dietrich knelt by Moffitt, and started whispering, "You are having a bad dream, Moffitt. Wake up."

Moffitt awoke with a start, staring up at Dietrich with wide, frightened gray eyes.

"Are you alright, dear?" Anah slithered onto Moffitt's chest.

It took a few moments, but Moffitt eventually slowed his breathing, and spoke. "I was… back in the French barracks… with Leitzke following me with a dead snake, and Ghislain with him, telling me I failed to save him."

Dietrich wasn't sure what to say. This wasn't the first time Moffitt had that nightmare, and he felt powerless to make it stop. "Would you rather stay here, and I go back out on watch?"

"No. I… won't be able to get back to sleep now," Moffitt said. "You look like you're ready for bed anyway, and I'll have Anah."

"Alright. If you insist." Dietrich crawled under his blanket. "Good night."

"Hopefully, you'll have a better sleep than I did," Moffitt replied. "Good night, Dietrich."

Usually, Dietrich could fall asleep pretty quickly. That night, he found himself lying awake, despite his exhaustion mere minutes ago. He was tired, but somehow not enough to fall asleep. His mind was stuck on the prophecy and healing and where they would be going over the next few days. Their journey wasn't over, and Dietrich found himself wishing it was over already. The long rides were exhausting. He was desperate for a shower. He was tired of the same food day in and day out. He wanted a cup of real coffee, and a real bed again. It is like being in DAK all over again… accept the people around me are not dying every single day. I can put up with this. I really should not be complaining.

He turned onto his side, struggling to find a spot that was comfortable. He tossed and turned, feeling his mind spiraling out of control as he wanted more and more to go home.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when the tent flap opened slightly, and Anah slithered in. "Oh, you poor dear," she whispered. "Have you not slept at all?"

Dietrich didn't respond.

Anah didn't press further, and instead moved next to Dietrich, getting directly alongside him and curling up near his head.

Dietrich never would have thought that a snake would be good at comforting someone having a sleepless night, but here he was, trying to sleep with a talking Egyptian cobra beside him. Under normal circumstances, Dietrich would be doing his best to not move or risk a bite, but these circumstances—nor Anah—were normal. She wasn't exactly a teddy bear, though. Dietrich began running his hand down the length of Anah's body, feeling her relax with each stroke. Anah sighed with contentment, then moved so her head was on top of Dietrich's hand.

He had watched Moffitt with Anah enough times to know this was Anah's way of asking for a chin scratch. Dietrich wasn't too sure about doing that at first, but finally gave in to the pleading look on Anah's face. "Fine," he muttered, beginning to stroke under her chin, being mindful of where her fangs were to avoid accidentally getting pricked.

It took time, but he eventually lost the energy to keep going, and lay back down to finally get some sleep.

Dietrich's sleep wasn't restful. His dream began with him wading through deep, soft sand. Hot, dry winds ruffled his hair and an unobstructed sun beat down on him. Quietly, he heard the sound of Anah's humming. As he continued walking, he heard the distinct sound of a violin, playing the same exact tune. It echoed in his brain and there was something eerie and haunting about it, yet he wanted to hear it to its conclusion.

If it had one.

He kept walking through the endless dunes, occasionally sinking up to his waist. The music continued to get louder, and he hoped that meant he was getting close. Eventually, something white caught his eye on the ground in front of him. The sand was nearly up to his chest. Dietrich got closer to the white thing, and saw it was a blackthorn flower. How one managed to appear in the desert was certainly a mystery, but one he didn't put much thought into. He gently picked it up, noticing how it looked like it had been freshly plucked from a branch. It was as white as freshly fallen snow, without a single blemish to be seen.

Confusion crept in as one of the petals on the flower began to turn a bright crimson. That confusion quickly turned to horror as Dietrich realized the crimson color was being caused by blood, and that the blood was coming from the now-open wounds on his wrists. His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to drop the flower, but somehow couldn't. The sand below darkened as blood ran and dripped into it. The music was getting louder and louder, and Dietrich was frozen with fear and confusion. Frantically, he looked around, wanting to call for help, but couldn't make himself talk.

The flower was soon completely red. Dietrich managed to drop it. It sunk into the bloodstained sand, and abruptly, so did Dietrich. He fell down a seemingly endless chasm. Fear tightened his chest when he considered the possibility that this was the abyss, and he couldn't escape. He tried to reach out and grab something. Instead, he struck a rock jutting out from one of the sides of the chasm, and blacked out as pain burst through his body.

Dietrich jolted awake. His heart was pounding and his breathing quickened as he thought about what he just saw. He looked at his wrists. Relief crashed over him when he saw the scars were still closed. Never thought I would actually be happy to see them. This is normal now. It never should have been. Dietrich lowered his hands, and turned to see Anah was still asleep beside him. He wondered if she had seen his dream, but he didn't want to wake her. He lay back down, trying to convince himself it was just a dream. I can deal with the abyss. His mind turned to their journey ahead, and the places he never wanted to see again. I can deal with it, right?

He was beginning to doubt that.

Moffitt had ended up falling asleep while watching Janvier, and awoke to find Snowstripe staring down at him. Sighing and stretching, Moffitt grunted, "Have you been standing there all bloody night?"

Snowstripe kept staring.

"You know, I don't need to be watched. I'm not a helpless foal. Please—" Moffitt was interrupted by being smothered with horse kisses. "Yes. Good morning, Snowstripe. Okay, off, boy." He stood to get the fire started again for tea. When he checked his water, he started wondering if it would be a better idea to start foregoing tea. We don't have that much left, and we need to make it stretch as long as possible. With a sigh, Moffitt kicked sand over the fire and put his canteen back on his knapsack. What's our food situation?

They had already finished the fruit he bought from the village. There was still a small portion of the homemade granola left for each of them, as well as a handful of dates and a bit of the smoked mutton. Taking on Janvier had certainly decreased their food by a lot. Moffitt closed his knapsack, figuring he would wait until Dietrich was up before discussing what to do next. His stomach began grumbling, and he started pacing around the campsite to take his mind off it.

Eventually, a bleary-eyed Dietrich emerged from the tent. He looked around the campsite with a confused expression. "Have I missed breakfast?" he asked.

"No," Moffitt replied. "We have a bit of a problem."

"Oh?"

"We don't have a lot of food left. We're going to have to either find a village, or start eating less."

"How many days' travel until we reach Tunisia?"

"About two."

"We could make it that long. There are some villages near the border."

"We'll also need water for us. I've actually decided that I won't have tea until we get more."

Dietrich gave him a look. "You are going to be unbearable without it."

"Well, I'd much rather be cranky than dehydrated, so I apologize in advance for any snappish behavior. Where's Anah?"

"Asleep."

"She stayed with you most of the night?"

Dietrich nodded. "Helped me fall asleep, actually."

"She's quite good at that," Moffitt said with a slight smirk. His smirk quickly faded. "We can go without much food for the next two days if that's all it'll take."

"That does not mean we will eat nothing. You and I are both as thin as it is, and Janvier is not exactly in good shape, either."

"I never said we would eat nothing. Just… less." Moffitt opened his knapsack, taking out a handful of dates.

"I know I said this a while back, but I really am looking forward to a good, homecooked meal when we return to Britain," Dietrich said. "I am honestly getting sick of having the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It is either dates, or granola. I want something different."

"Maybe we'll find more fruit at the next village."

"That would be nice."

"Are you criticizing my granola, dear?" Anah slithered up between Dietrich and Moffitt.

"No. I enjoy your granola, but I would like something else for a change," Dietrich replied.

"Hmph. I put a lot of work into that."

"Anah—"

"I am only teasing, dear. I know you both want something else."

"Maybe I should go looking for goose eggs again," Moffitt said.

"Maybe you should get the whole goose," Dietrich replied. "Roasted goose sounds pretty good right about now."

"And what are we going to cook it with? We don't have salt or pepper or really anything to season it with."

"At this point, I do not care. I am starving for something fresh, whether it is meat or fruit or eggs or… just something."

Moffitt could sense Dietrich's frustration building. He couldn't blame him. "We're almost there. I'm sorry for putting you through this—"

"No. Please, stop apologizing. I volunteered to come with you. I will see this through to the end."

Movement caught both their attentions. Moffitt looked up to see Janvier standing and holding his canteen. The horses were all watching him closely, seemingly ready to charge at him if he made one wrong move.

Janvier glanced at the horses nervously, then approached Moffitt and Dietrich, holding out his canteen. "Take some of my water for tea."

"Why?" Moffitt asked.

"Because I have seen you without tea in the morning. You are not pleasant in the slightest, and it will get worse the second day."

Moffitt wanted to argue and reject Janvier's offer, but he knew the Frenchman was right—he really wouldn't be pleasant, and he didn't want to put Dietrich through that. Sighing, Moffitt took the canteen, and held it out to Anah. "Is it drugged?"

Anah studied the canteen for a moment. "It is safe, dear."

"Alright." Moffitt gave Janvier a look before setting about making a new fire and adding some of Janvier's water to his kettle. He kept glancing at Janvier, who was having his own meager breakfast of dates and granola that Moffitt had given him. In the corner of his eye, Moffitt noticed Dietrich's incredibly grouchy expression while placing a sizable chunk of granola in his mouth. "You know, I've never seen anyone look so angry while eating bloody granola."

"And it is my granola!" Anah said.

"Both of you, shut up," Dietrich muttered.

"At least you have food at all," Janvier said.

"You, shut up as well."

"All of you, stop." Moffitt held up his hands. "No arguing." He poured the hot water over a tea bag. "Let me enjoy my tea."

"Did you bring sugar for it?" Janvier asked.

"Yes, not much, though. No milk, either."

"I brought a small jar of honey. That might improve the flavor a bit."

Dietrich looked at him. "You have honey?"

"Yes," Janvier replied. "Do you want some?"

"No, don't let him have any!" Moffitt said. "He'll eat the whole bloody jar."

"Besides, I baked the granola with honey," Anah added.

"But this is liquid honey," Dietrich said.

Moffitt sighed. "Will it make you happy and stop you from being a sourpuss all day?"

"Maybe."

"I don't want 'maybe.' I would like us to still be friends by the time we reach the village."

"Alright. Yes, I will be happy."

Janvier was smiling—genuinely smiling. It was a smile that Moffitt hadn't seen in nearly sixteen years, and one that rarely made an appearance even while Janvier was living with him and his family. He watched Janvier let Dietrich take a few spoonfuls of honey, and despite that moment of levity, Moffitt still felt unsure about how forgiving he wanted to be toward his former friend. He returned his focus to the tea, and suddenly found himself somewhat envious of Dietrich's friendlier and more welcoming attitude toward Janvier. I can't help if I keep isolating him and acting distant myself.

Keeping that in mind, Moffitt sat closer to Dietrich and Janvier. He didn't join in their conversation—well, it was mostly Janvier talking about where he got his honey while Dietrich put spoonful after spoonful of honey in his mouth. Moffitt listened, and wondered what it was going to take for him and Janvier to truly start fresh.

He ate very little over the course of the next day, focusing more on water. He did his best to not look sick or dizzy in front of the others, not wanting to stop. Just have to make it to the next village. Just have to make it…

Each time they crested a hill or dune and didn't see the village, Moffitt's disappointment grew. His empty stomach was twisting in on itself with each pang of hunger, but he refused to take anything. Everything had to be stretched. He could make it to their next stop to rest if they didn't reach the village that day.

He expected the steeper hill they were traversing to have the same result behind it—nothing—so he was overcome with joy and relief when he saw the small collection of dwellings on the other side. Finally! He prompted Snowstripe into a canter, heading down the hill and toward the outer limits of the village. Janvier was right behind him. Moffitt pulled Snowstripe back to a walk, then looked over his shoulder to see Dietrich hadn't responded with the same enthusiasm.

"Are you alright, Dietrich?" Moffitt asked.

Dietrich didn't respond. He stared ahead at the village, keeping Icepatch at a walk as they went down the hill to catch up.

"Dietrich? Is everything okay?"

"I recognize this place," Dietrich said, somewhat flatly. "I am surprised that you do not."

Moffitt looked around. There was something familiar about the village, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"If we continue further west, we will find the well."

Janvier gave them both a confused look. "What is this well you find so important?"

"It's a long story," Moffitt replied.

"We need to leave," Dietrich said.

"We need food and water!"

"We need to leave!"

"Both of you, stop!" Anah shouted. "Moffitt is right, you all need more food and water. Dietrich, you must fight this. I know you can, dear."

"No! You all can stay! I am going on ahead!"

"Absolutely not!" Moffitt snapped. "Icepatch, don't move."

Icepatch looked first at Moffitt, then at Dietrich. She wasn't sure who to listen to.

The silence that surrounded them quickly became heavy and uncomfortable. Moffitt's ears pricked when he heard the sound of someone approaching them with slow steps, and turned to see a young woman, no older than eighteen or nineteen, walking over to the men, snake, and their horses.

"Who are you, travelers?" she asked in Arabic. "Why are you fighting? If you must fight, take it elsewhere."

"Our sincerest apologies, madam," Moffitt replied. "It is just a… personal dispute. We came to trade. We are on a long journey and are in need of food and water."

The woman stared at them for a minute, studying them all closely. She paused at Moffitt. "You! The man with the cobra! I recognize you!" Her gaze next settled on Dietrich. "And you! You returned my necklace!" A smile blossomed across her face. "I cannot believe it!"

"How time has passed," Anah said softly. "You are certainly not a little girl anymore."

"Do you not remember me?" the girl asked, walking up to Moffitt as he dismounted Snowstripe.

"No, I remember you," Moffitt replied. "What was your name again?"

"Kiri. And you are?"

"Moffitt. Jack Moffitt."

Kiri's smile widened, and she looked at Anah. "You. You are Anah, correct?"

"I am," Anah said.

"For a long time, I wondered if you were not real, but that could not have been true. You are real. All of you." Kiri gestured to Janvier. "I do not remember him, though."

"He was not present when we pulled you out of the well," Moffitt said. "This is Ghislain Janvier. He is… a… colleague of mine."

"A pleasure to meet you, then."

Janvier nodded, then looked at Moffitt. "What exactly is the story with her?"

"Back during the war, my unit and I, and Dietrich's men, helped save Kiri when she fell down a well," Moffitt explained. "She was much smaller then, so… time has certainly flown." He looked at Dietrich. "Are you okay?"

"I still have the necklace." Kiri approached Dietrich, taking the necklace out of her robes. "Mother told me that you were—"

Without a word, Dietrich turned Icepatch, and galloped away from the village.

"Dietrich, wait! No! Come back!" Moffitt shouted. His gaze flicked between Dietrich and Janvier, unsure of what to do. He didn't trust Janvier to leave him by himself, so he pulled Anah off his shoulders. "Stay with Ghislain."

"What are you doing?" Anah asked.

"Going after Dietrich." Moffitt placed Anah on top of Zahir's head, then turned and started galloping in the direction of the lingering dust left behind by Dietrich and Icepatch.