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"It's a sea of sand."

"What?"

"A sea of sand. This. It's huge, and there's sand everywhere."

"No dung."

At five A.M. in the desert, when the sun is just peeping over the horizon, and its light just lightly grazes the sand, the massive dunes shimmer a little. Just like waves of the ocean that reflect light. Tunn had been told once that if you heat sand enough, it becomes glass. He believed it now, because sand can indeed sparkle like glass. All in all, the desert did sort of look like a sea. But he wasn't going to tell Ralph that.

"Is that seriously the best you can come up with?"

Axel had beaten him to a snappy remark. Axel was the oldest man in the group, one of the oldest in the entire army. He was a wolf, completely gray and with some stern wrinkles around his snout. His eyes were always a little squinted. Combined with his short posture it made him look quite grumpy. But beneath his tough exterior was one of the most loyal and kindhearted men Tunn knew. A true friend to his friends, and a brutal warrior to his enemies. A mercenary through and through.

"I'd like to see you come up with something better, asshole.'

Ralph had called Axel asshole literally since the day they met. Ralph could be very creative when it came to offensive nicknames, but he considered "asshole" his best work. Ralph was a gorilla, covered in rough black hair and always wearing a patched leather chest plate.

"And I swear on my head," he would say, "I made it with my own two hands, stitching together the pieces of skin I collect from those I have bested in the art of combat", followed by a slight nod to his audience for reinforcement.

Ralph enjoyed the respect he got from the newbies when he told them that, but everyone knew he had bought it from a pack of travelling mongooses years ago. Ralph was a terrible liar, and his friends never passed a chance to give him away when he was trying to look tough by showing off his armor. When a conversation about random stuff to kill time had led to a challenge to find poetic descriptions of the desert, everyone looked to Ralph, because he was the best with language. He was always cracking jokes and had been challenged to find a new, accurate poetic metaphor for the desert. It was a strange game for a group of barely educated mercenaries, to say the least, but the boredom gets the best of everyone eventually. When the sun rose, they had received word from some messenger of whoever decides these things, that today was the day: the months of negotiation had been fruitless and the attack on the city of Kulyt was going down today. After months of waiting, the exhilaration was great. The entire army had surrounded the oasis, an enormous circle on the edge of a shady, green, hole in the ground, with a tight mass of sandstone houses in the middle. In the desert, cities are built where water is found. On this particular hill, the four men had been waiting for over an hour now, waiting for a sign to charge. There was no battle plan or strategy; these mercenaries were far too unreliable. They barely had any leadership. Men died every day in internal quarrels. Tunn knew many men would die today. Unorganized bands of sellswords like this had the highest death rate of any army he knew. Everyone here was here because he had nowhere else to go. They were criminals, orphans, runaways, outcasts, slaves, drifters... anyone who wanted food and wanted it now was welcome to come and die here. They came alone, in little groups, armed with sticks or even naked. They came, stole what they wanted, and stayed if they survived. Tunn came from a monastery in the Nordic lands. It was run by a group of old foxes, a dying cult that believed the fox was the supreme being, and that someday they would wage war on the rest of the world. He had been told a monk found him lying in the field one day, a baby, still covered in his mother's filth, trying to muster the strength to cry. Had he not been a bloodpure Arctic Fox, the monk would have left him there without a second thought. Instead, he was taken in, and raised there. Every day, the cubs living in that part of the temple that acted as an orphanage were fed a little bit of food and a great deal of ramblings about how one day this once great order would lead the noble race of foxes in a war against all other species, wiping them out and establishing themselves as the sole inhabitants and rulers of the planet. If anyone asked who they were going to rule, or what they were going to eat, of what gave them the right to exterminate all other life on earth, he or she received a good beating. It was there that Tunn found his skill. Because he grew so abnormally fast and big, he was always hungry. That is, until he discovered he could simply take another cub's food and eat it too. Nobody ever dared to protest when he towered above them, grabbing their bowls out of their trembling hands in full view of the monks. If they didn't cause any trouble, he didn't do anything else to them. He took someone else's meal every day, so nobody starved. He left when he could no longer put up with those miserable old nutjobs and their disgusting ideas any longer at the age of twelve. He robbed, scammed, begged, and sometimes worked here and there. And eventually, ended up in this nameless army. Axel, a veteran of eighteen years, had shared a piece of bread with him on his first day. He met Ralph in the battle of Mofina, nearly a year ago. The fourth man he had met only a few days ago. This desert coyote wasn't actually a mercenary. He was an interpreter. He had made a meagre living on a well that his family had owned for decades. Sanir's great-great-grandfather had dug it when Kulyt was a lot more well-traveled, a few miles from the actual oasis. Farmers and nomads who didn't have the time and resources to go get water from the town bought it from him for a reasonable price. It was a very common practice. Well-owning families around settlements often became very wealthy within a few generations. At first, everything worked as expected. But the old man's offspring had underestimated the generosity of the oasis. Kulyt expanded at an enormous pace, and somehow the mass of water beneath the dirt managed to support everyone. The residents made good use of every drop. The family finally went bankrupt after many years of making ends meet, before the roaming band of mercenaries reached the city and decided it was a good place to stock up, one way or another. Sanir, the only living branch of the family tree, had some qualities that made him perfect as an interpreter during the negotiations. He spoke both languages extraordinarily well, he was clever, in need of fast money, and he was not at all concerned with the wellbeing of the locals.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Sanir sighed.

"You really want to see these people die, don't you?"

Tunn vaguely knew the story of Sanir's family, but he preferred not to think about it. Sanir had made it very clear when he had approached the army that Kulyt was very weak from a military point of view. Whether he had really "sold the city out" could be debated, but the fact remained that Sanir had made no effort to save the citizens at all, and that somehow just didn't feel right to Tunn.

"All desert canines are like that," Axel had said once. " They don't have a pack mentality like you and I do. Their family is important to them, their blood, their genes, like family is important to all animals. But they don't support other families without gain for their own. Life is tough here, bud. And Sanir doesn't feel like he has to protect the city at all. They didn't support his family when that well-idea went south. So if he can make money by helping us, why wouldn't he do it?"

Sanir had been assigned to Tunn, Axel and Ralph to make sure no harm would come to him. Apparently, he was more or less important to their direct superiors. The three men had been willing to keep an eye on him, but they had made it very clear when they met Sanir in person that they would not even consider risking their own lives for his. If Sanir wanted to survive, he would better stay out of trouble. Sanir had said something about that being obvious and that they didn't have to worry about him, before immediately going to bed. Since then, he had been with the group every morning, even now, standing on this dune, preparing for war.

"I don't want to see them die any more than I want to see them live. I just don't want to be standing here with the sun rising for hours without water or shelter. I'm bored to death and burning up here! And the men must be thirsty, I know you guys didn't bring enough water to stay here for much longer. So why don't you go and get it?"

The animals here had a strange attitude towards the heat, Tunn had noticed. They revered the sun, that made their crops grow, but also feared it. And a former well-owner would of course know the significance of water in these parts. For someone like Tunn, genetically adapted to sub-zero temperatures, the heat here would be unbearable if he didn't get every single square inch of his thick pelt trimmed at least once a week. It was incredibly time-consuming and whoever Tunn managed to badger into doing his back always did a painful, shoddy job. Tunn was sick of this place. If only the horns would sound, and they could finally enter the city and end all this waiting... And then, as if Tunn's prayers had been answered, an ear-shattering noise was emitted from the huge horns that gave the signal to attack, that turned into a tidal wave of unarticulated screams. The exhilarated men rushed down the slope like an enormous dam had broken. Those who did not want to go were dragged along by the mass of bodies that dove headfirst into battle, their eyes bloodshot and squinted from the bright sun, their throats dry with the thirst that they would soon quench with all the water that had been promised to them, their minds clouded by blood thirst and fear, their ears deafened by the chaos of shouting. Some exclaimed the names of the kingdoms they were born in. Some the names of their gods or prophets. Some exclaimed their wishes for survival, or for a better world, if they should die. Some the names of family members and women they would never get to tell whatever it was that they had to say. But Sanir the desert fox said nothing. And Tunn, Axel and Ralph said nothing. They had no gods, no kings, no families. No women, no convictions, no wishes. No thoughts that may have been their last. No fear. But they had voices. And they screamed a wordless _scream_running down that hill.

The sun had risen to the top of the sky now. Tunn's eyes were sticky, squeezed shut but he could see the light and the heat through his eyelids. Blood was all over his face. He was standing in the middle of the street, listening to his rough, dry breathing slowing down. He threw some water in his face before taking another big gulp from his newly-filled flask to wash the blood from his eyes. The citizens of Kulyt had fought bravely. They had had little choice. The mass of crazed men had immediately overrun all defenses. Many of them had died, killed by desperate Kulytians who had wanted to go down fighting. But the sheer number and bloodlust of the band of mercenaries had made all resistance futile. And of course, surrender was futile too. They had broken down the thin wooden doors of the homes, slaughtering anyone they found inside on their raged search for water. In the streets were small groups of Kulytian men and even some women, armed with rusty spears that had belonged to their great-grandfathers, rocks, sticks, axes and basically anything they could find. Most of them had never even held a weapon before, but they knew they had nothing to lose. And as Tunn knew very well, a trained soldier who is afraid of death is no better than a starving farmer who knows he's going to die. Fighting another soldier means understanding what he plans to do, and the first priority of a warrior is always: stay alive. But who knew the mind of a dying man? Not Tunn. He'd never died before. He had no idea what to expect. Would he be scared? Most likely. Would it hurt? Stop that, he told himself. You didn't die today and you'll know what it's like soon enough.

Two familiar figures were coming down the street together, arms on each other's shoulders like they were best pals. Sanir and Axel didn't really like each other, probably because they had too much in common. Two clever bastards without conscience would never get along. Luckily, the sweet and very potent Woike many of the locals here brewed in their basements had a certain fraternizing effect. It was made of the berries of local bushes that grew it this dry climate. The tiny yellow blobs were protected by the long, tough spikes of the Woike bush_,_ the small weed that grew in certain well-hidden locations that were passed on from father to son. These berries were fermented for some months, and then carefully distilled, creating a tasty, fresh juice for small children and a powerful, sour liquor that was highly coveted by local drunks. Apparently, one family had not been able to hide their cellar properly. Axel and Sanir were leaning for each other for support, the fur on their chests drenched with "free" booze. The spilled Woike had not completely been able to wash away the blood of its former owners.

"What's so funny?" Axel had burst out laughing as soon as he saw Tunn's stern look. "It... it's nothing... we just found a whole bunch of... remember what we said when we attacked?"

"What do you mean? We didn't say anything. We yelled _Haah_or something. Did you say anything?"

"No, I just... well you see, some people said words right? Sey thaid... I mean, they said..."

Axel's last sentence turned into unintelligible slurry from that point on. Sanir interrupted. He seemed a little less drunk than Axel.

I heard you guys say "eyah", which is Kulytian for "myself". As if to say: "I go to war for myself".

It brought a slight snicker to Tunns weary face. He imagined watching himself from another body, slightly shorter and less hairy, in the middle of this huge crowd mustering courage, and seeing three men shouting: "Myself!"

It wasn't that funny now that he thought about it. An uncomfortable silence fell as sudden as only uncomfortable silences can. "Ralph is dead" Axel said. "Someone hit him with a crossbow in the neck from a roof. It was in an alleyway... I went in first, and the guy must have been lying down, waiting to hear someone. And when he heard me, he looked up and saw Ralph."

"I'm sorry man. But you couldn't help it, this happens." It was Sanir who said that. He put his hand on Axel's shoulder and rubbed it. It bothered Tunn a little to see his oldest friend getting so snuggly with this guy after one afternoon of getting drunk. Less than half a week ago, Axel had warned him never to trust a desert fox. Was Sanir up to anything?

Come on, He thought, You know Axel. He is far too smart to let some stolen booze cloud his judgment. If he wasn't, he would have died years ago.

"Of course it's not Axel's fault." He wasn't sure which one of the two he was addressing. "People die in this line of work. Axel has been doing this for years, he would never blame himself for the death of a colleague. Right, man?"

"It happens." Axel replied. "It sucks though, that it happened like that. He deserved to die in an honest man-to-man fight, not getting shot in an alley."

Tunn nodded in agreement. "We'll drink to him tonight. Now, what's this I heard about something they found in the city?"

In a warehouse in Kulyt's centre a strange discovery had been made by some men who had broken in hoping to find some valuables. It hadn't been difficult to break down the door, and the only one guarding it had been an unarmed lizard. He had been killed when the men burst in, which the soldiers strongly regretted now, because they had no idea what exactly he had been guarding. It were maybe twenty enormous pieces of wood. The trees these things were cut from must have been mind-bogglingly huge, it was almost scary to imagine. But the strange thing was their shape. There was absolutely no resemblance to anything Tunn, Sanir and Axel had ever seen. They stood in the warehouse, among the crowd of puzzled comrades, looking up at the sculptures like little boys seeing an elephant at the zoo for the first time. The pieces of wood were covered in bulging appendages and deep, irregular drill-holes, enormous curved cuts and splits like maze canyons on a map. In certain spots they were well-rounded, in other spots they consisted of flat surfaces, like dice of a certain uncommon number. Some were long and straight, others were solid and more or less round, and no matter how much the three men pondered, they could not come up with any use for them. Two survivors of the massacre had been questioned about the wooden shapes. One of them swore he had never seen them in his life, the other didn't open his mouth at all. One of the men had climbed on to one of the figures and was trying to get the attention of everyone in the packed warehouse. Unfortunately, the squeaky voice of a squirrel proved insufficient to be heard over his brother's voices, so he first had to convince a one-eyed macaque of whatever it was that he was trying to say before having him climb up and call everyone's attention. "All right," the squirrel said. "none of us have any idea what these things are, and the locals won't tell us. So my guess is that they're something religious to them. But the..."

He was interrupted by another voice from the crowd. " What kind of religion would that be? I've never heard of worshipping pieces of wood, and I don't think that the people here believe anything at all!"

The squirrel cut him off. "How would you know what kind of weird superstitions this city has? They're just some leftovers from an ancient holy tree or something that's been eaten by termites." He took advantage of the laughter in the crowd to state his point. "We should try to find some saws and axes in the town. We'll build carts out of the wood in the houses, chop these things up and take them with us. We'll sell them as firewood when we get to the next big city."

This idea sparked a wave of protest from the audience. Tunn silently agreed, it was a stupid idea. Collecting enough wood to put these things on carts would take days, even weeks. And there was no telling when they would be able to sell them again, after dragging the enormous carts through miles of desert. He had made a quick count, and as far as he could see from his spot there were eighteen shapes. And he was not the only one who didn't feel like dragging those on carts. What looked like a coyote with no pants on had managed to climb onto the piece of wood that acted as a stage and had pushed the squirrel off.

"Guys, guys," He said, as if he was talking to a group of friends, "they're just pieces of wood. If they were worth anything they wouldn't be in such a crappy warehouse. I mean, look at this place! This is not a temple, this is not where you store something valuable, let alone something holy, is it?" An agreeing murmur arose. "Let's stop bickering about these dumb things and focus on something more important. This whole city is full of real valuables: Food, drinks and gold!"

He raised his fist as if he was trying to make a powerful ending to a peptalk, but someone else interrupted him. He hadn't climbed up the statue that had apparently become an enormous military variant of a soapbox , so Tunn couldn't see what species he was. Strangely enough though, his was the only voice in the room. The men were more or less quiet, beginning to enjoy the debate over the mysterious figures.

"Why would the people of Kulyt make these things and put them here if they were not valuable?" The newcomer asked. " Look at how they were cut. Do you have any idea how much time and effort went into that?" Tunn realized he was right. It wasn't very obvious, but whoever made the shapes had sanded them down to a perfect smoothness, cutting with the grain of the wood in some places and directly against it in others. It was almost as if the design of the shapes had been made to give the woodcutter as much trouble as possible. It dazzled him to estimate how many man-hours of painstaking physical labor had gone into making these things. No tree would ever decay in such a way. It was too unnatural. The design went directly against any instinct a woodworker would have. A new possibility arose in his mind: had they been made by slaves? Was this the way one people had once solidified its complete control over another: by forcing the poor workers to put the absolute maximum amount of effort and time into something utterly and completely useless?

"Whatever they are, it would be way stupid to just torch them with the place. At least for now, let's just keep these things safe. I mean, why would we have to leave already? Why not see what else we can find here? Maybe these things are worthless, maybe not. But we don't have to decide right now." The army didn't often stick in one spot for longer than a few days. But the guy was right, Kulyt was full of food, water, and shelter. It sounded good to just hang out here for a while, explore the city, and eventually they would find out what these things were for. There was someone sort of in charge who would object, of course. But although this army was by no means a democracy, it was certainly no dictatorship either. If the men got it in their heads to stay, they were staying. And by the looks of it, this new idea was becoming more and more interesting to the guys. Tunn had been with them long enough to realize they were indeed not going anywhere soon. It hadn't been officially decided, and it would never be official because it didn't have to be. He turned around and walked out the door while the speech giver was still making his point with renewed vigour. He didn't want to hear the rest of it.

The blistering sun was finally setting and it was like he saw Kulyt for the first time. The streets were empty, though littered and bloodstained in some places. The bodies of both sides had been piled and burned here and there with lamp oil salvaged from the houses. The stench of burned fur was still quite overwhelming. The houses were mostly built out of lime and sandstone, because wood was obviously so scarce here. They were like little cubes, with broken doors and square holes for windows. He strolled through the abandoned streets and alleyways where markets had once been held and cubs had played until he reached the outermost houses. It was obvious that the lower classes had lived here, the houses were smaller and some of the bodies were rotting in the sun without having even been gathered. The damage to the houses was also far less, because there was less to plunder than in the houses of the wealthy families that lived downtown. He wondered if the residents here had fought just as hard as the happy, healthy animals from the inner city to protect their few belongings. Maybe now that the victorious army had taken everything there was of value, the survivors of the massacre would be equal. They had hit bottom and had nowhere to go but up. They weren't going anywhere, of course. The surviving Kulytians had been rounded up and would be serving their captors for a while. If they were lucky, most of them would be left behind when the mercenaries left. Only the strongest would be sold as slaves in the nearest city. There would be quite some settling of old grudges and feuds now that Kulyt had become lawless under foreign oppression.

He didn't know why he decided to enter one of the houses. When your mind wanders, so do your legs and you might find yourself in unexpected places. The house had obviously belonged to someone of some financial means. It was slightly bigger than the rest and had probably once been tastefully decorated. What he found in the dusty shack was an old meerkat woman. She was huddled in the corner, trying to hide from him in a hiding spot that wasn't there, making herself as small as possible. She wore a long blue robe, the bottom seams of which had been dragged through dust for years. When Tunn approached she rested her long snout on her knees and clenched her arms around something that she had wrapped in her robe. Tunn stood in front of her for a while, wondering what to do and how she got here. She had probably hidden here since the attack began, some six hours in this hot, stuffy corner. When he grabbed her arm to see what she was holding, she started crying softly and turned away from him. Tunn grabbed both her wrists and pulled them apart. What fell from her lap was a small fuzzy thing. A dead meerkat cub was lying face down on the sandstone tiles, it's fur dirty and its eyes matted. Judging from the smell he had been dead for some time already, but the flies hadn't gotten to him yet. When he let the woman go she almost fell over on her cub, wrapping its tail around its legs in a more dignified position. It looked like a child trying to make a sandcastle out of dry sand that wouldn't stick. Tunn took the woman to the place downtown where the prisoners were being kept. She didn't resist much when he left the cub in the empty cabin. Maybe she had realized there was no more use in staying with it, and that she would die if she did. Maybe she just didn't have the strength to fight. She didn't try to escape when Tunn walked her through the streets until he came upon one of his brothers who pointed a large, flat building out to them when he saw the Kulytian woman. There were a few big guys inside, sitting at a table in the otherwise empty building. They seemed to be having dinner, and when Tunn came in they looked at each other expectantly. Then, a young cheetah sighed, got up, and looked over at the meerkat woman. He gestured Tunn to follow him while he warned the other diners not to touch his grub and walked into a narrow hallway. Tunn and the prisoner followed silently, watching the shoulder blades of the half-naked cat. "It's actually way too crowded in there already," He said. "someone's going to have to go in there tomorrow and take out the bodies. I hope they don't try to push that job on me." They stopped in front of a thick wooden door with three big locks on it. The keys were lying on the concrete floor next to it. There was a muffled sound of babies crying and soft chatter. When the cheetah opened the door, it immediately became silent. For some reason, Tunn didn't look inside. He fixed his eyes on the doorknob as he handed his female prisoner over and the cheetah pushed her inside before closing the door again. In those few seconds the door was open, an overwhelming wave of warm air poured out, filled with the soft crying of young and the nervous whispers of their parents, followed by the brutally loud noise of the three locks closing again. The sound of three steel bolts slamming home stuck in his ears for days. The smell of rotting excrement and sweat didn't come out of his nose for far longer.

FIVE DAYS LATER

They had not seen Sanir for quite some time. Axel and Tunn considered themselves released from duty. They had found a house with a patio facing west in the better part of town that for some reason still had a functioning door with a lock. The two of them had been quite lucky, because they had enough food and a nice place to watch the sunset from, while many of the other men were crammed into much smaller houses or even sleeping on the street. The lockable door was more of a mental barrier. If overcrowding got bad enough, this door would be broken down as well as the others and Axel and Tunn would have to take in some roommates. They were no closer to solving the riddle of the wooden monsters in the warehouse. If they even overcame the language barrier, the Kulytians refused to say a word and endured what they were submitted to without a flinch. "What's that smell?" Axel asked. Tunn raised his eyebrow. "You don't smell it yet, do you. Wait and see." He took another deep whiff. His black nose wiggled up at the evening sky. "I'll tell you what that is, boy. That's the smell of frustration. And it's us. Those damn wooden things are driving everyone nuts. We should have left when we had the chance. Now the men are so frustrated that they can't find out what they are that the prisoners can smell it on us too. And that's why they're pretending not to know. And the longer we stay here, the more worked up we get." He stood up and sighed, looking of the patio with his paws in his sides like a coach looking at his team losing terribly. "It's a cycle. And it's a bloody mess, man, I'll tell you that."

Tunn sighed too. Axel was right, and it bugged him because the "Pieces", as they had been dubbed, were eating at him too. Just like Axel said. It made him feel stupid, because he knew the entire army was acting irrationally. They should just leave. Why didn't they? Because everyone had the feeling those Pieces were somehow important. They couldn't just walk away from something the locals defended so vigorously. So they worked through old documents, interrogated Kulytian public figures, interpreted, brainstormed, and those big ugly wooden things were just sitting in that warehouse, laughing in their faces. It's pathetic, Tunn thought, We're not interpreters, or scholars, or detectives, or something like that. We're a bunch of illiterate hooligan psychopaths trying to understand a culture we've just wiped out.

It happened just before sundown. They were just about to go inside when without warning, a column of grey smoke came over the rooftops. It seemed to be coming from just a few blocks away. It rapidly got thicker followed by a the sound of disturbed crowd. A mercenary's instinct will tell him only two things: To go where there's chaos, and to bring a sword. Tunn and Axel slipped into their armour with the speed of much practice and ran through the streets with drawn weapons, eager to know what was going on. In this situation, a riot was the most obvious option. There was always fighting among the men. But Tunn had a bad feeling this was more than just a quarrel over loot or something like that. And he was right. The smoke was coming from the roof of the warehouse containing the Pieces. This was the scene on the street outside the building:

Like ants whose nest was being flooded, A thick crowd of soldiers was running back and forth on the street, more or less clothed and armored, trying to raise their voices over those of the others. They were ready to fight, they had come here to fight, but they didn't know who the enemy was, so each shouted orders like he was the one who knew what to do. Some twenty men were cornered against the wall, defending themselves against the rest of the army in half a circle. They seemed calm and coordinated, purposeful but unable to hold against the number of their brothers that had become enemies. Before Tunn and Axel had elbowed their way through the crowd, five of the group under attack were lying dead on the ground, with eight other mercenaries. The other insurgents were being held on the ground, disarmed and powerless. One of them, a goat, was being held by three men while a furious ape was beating him with a stick. One of his horns was broken and lay on the ground. The ape was foaming at the mouth and jumped up and down with every strike, until Axel's strong paw grabbed the stick in mid-air and poked the raging ape in the ribs with it. Axel was far stronger than you would expect from a wolf his size, and the ape bent at the knees, gasping for breath. Axel's booming voice calmed the men down a bit, though they kept pushing and yelling.

Axel pointed at the fire on the roof , which was being put out by men who had climbed up with blankets and buckets of sand. "Did you do that?!" he asked the bruised and bloody goat on the ground. The goat didn't look intimidated, although his head was badly injured and his jaw looked broken. "Yes, we did!" He said. "We did it together!" The other twenty men who were being held made agreeing statements. Before the other mercenaries could respond, Axel roared: "Shut up!"

"Why did you do that? You know what's in this building, don't you? "

"Yes, we know. And whatever those things are, they're driving us insane!"

A new wave of disgruntled voices rose from the crowd, the goat didn't stop. He spat out some blood at the men, and said:

"Look at you! They're pieces of wood, for pity's sake! This hanging around here is destroying us! How much food and water do we have left, huh? " It became dead silent. "How long do you think before neighboring cities hear about us being here and start preparing for war? If we stay here much longer, we're all going to die! Do you really want to die for some chunks of wood?!"

Everything the goat said was true. And the truth hurts. Fortunately, if there's more of you then of the people that disagree with you, you don't have to listen to them. The ape had caught his breath, ran into Axel and bowled him over. Then he screamed: "Bastard!" and jumped onto the goat and tore into him with all his might. Then, everything went very fast. Tunn ran over to Axel, The other soldiers jumped the prisoners like madmen, Tunn tried to resist the massive wave of furry bodies with one paw still clamped around Axel's wrist, he fell, got up, felt a sudden jerk on his jacket and fell again, and all of a sudden he was out in the open, out of the hysterical crowd, with Axel lying next to him. He heard a calm voice in his ear saying: "There's nothing you can do for them." Tunn scrambled up and turned around.

Sanir's calm appearance clashed with the scene. The look on his face reminded Tunn of a lookout on a watchtower who sees the enemy far over the horizon, knowing they aren't there quite yet, but will arrive shortly. Sanir held them down by their shoulders. He was a lot stronger than Tunn thought. The screaming of terror was dying down, though the screaming of rage was still plainly hearable. The men were still pushing and trying to elbow their way to join the gruesome sentencing of the would-be arsonists.

Tunn didn't remember much of the walk "home". Somehow, Sanir knew where he and Axel were staying and led them through a network of back alleys like a pair of children, one on each of his paws. The two soldiers did not speak. They stared down at their feet in a tense, shameful silence. There was only one image in Axel's head: The moment the ape had torn into the wounded goat like an enemy, not like the kind of enemy you are paid to fight, but like a personal, deeply hated one. The goat had known he was going to die, and he had seemed ready to do so. Like a true warrior that had completed his mission, even though that what he had tried to destroy had survived. But what really made him sick wasn't the way the ape had gone beserk. It was the way the rest of the crowd had followed him in condemning their twenty brothers. Tunn was thinking all those things as well, plus one more thing: He had recognized the ape's voice as the one who had spoken last in the warehouse almost a week ago, to protect the pieces from destruction.

Sanir stopped, turned around, and carefully inspected them for injuries. When he was satisfied, he said: "You two are going home right now and you are staying there until I come get you." When he saw their puzzled expressions, he sighed and said: "It's best if you go out as little as possible these next few days. It will all become clear eventually, but things are going to get chaotic and dangerous in a matter of hours. I have things to do and I don't have time to give you more instructions or be bothered with your safety."

Where had the days gone when Tunn and Axel were responsible for his safety? They didn't care. Their heads felt like they were filled with sand. The next thing Tunn knew, he was back home, sitting at the table, waiting for something to happen.

That day, Axel went out for food only once, and came back with only a few pieces of dry bread that tasted like it had been stored for far too long. The message was obvious: the ransacked city was running out of food quickly. The sound of small riots was continuous, flaring up every now and then and never completely disappearing. Like an avalanche that drops massive waves of snow suddenly and without warning, although there is always some disturbance in the layers somewhere, if you look closely enough.

"Did you check out the warehouse?" "Of course. The crowds outside are huge though. The ones outside want in to see if the Pieces are still there. The ones inside won't let them in because they're afraid someone will try to damage them again. And rightly so, if you ask me. I think that there are more of us who..." He cut himself off and took a bite of bread, which would excuse him from talking for the next few minutes. When he was done chewing however, he didn't finish his sentence. "I did go past the east side of the building. Where we were yesterday... you know." He took a deep breath. " The bodies are still there." Tunn looked at him, in shock. Axel looked older than he had ever done before. "I counted thirty-one of them. At least nine were killed trying to protect the warehouse against the other twenty-two." Tunn imagined those twenty-seven corpses, rotting in the sun for hours. And nobody had taken the time to... He wanted to ask Axel why, but the words stuck in his dry throat. The reason nobody had concerned themselves with those twenty-seven men was painfully obvious: They were not considered important. He thought back to all the other cities they had sieged over the years, and how victories had forged bonds between men that he had once naively thought couldn't be broken. All of a sudden, it became clear to him. This army was falling apart. Where so many other civilizations and ancient fortifications had failed, this pile of clay, sand and rocks had succeeded. They had defeated and humiliated Kulyt, and now they were being punished for it. The army had consumed the city of Kulyt and found it poisonous. Something had made them sick to the point where they beat each other to death like savages and left the bodies lying in the street. And then, for the first time since the invasion, he found something to be thankful for:

At least Ralph isn't alive to see this disgrace.

It wasn't long after sunset that the shit officially hit the fan. There were more fires and the little riots blended together to a city-wide chaos. Axel and Tunn had boarded up the window with a piece of closet and barricaded the door with a table. And there they were, waiting for... anything, really. Tunn knew there was no escape possible. He tried to imagine a sort of panoramic view of what was going on outside. The fighting must center around the warehouse containing the Pieces, but there couldn't be any truly safe area left. Since the last unsuccessful attack on the warehouse, groups of mercenaries had formed that had committed to the destruction of the pieces, while others had vowed to keep them safe. Fear and confusion had spread, and nobody knew who had which goals anymore. Until eventually, anyone still out on the streets was in danger of being attacked by armed men who wanted their support, their belongings, or feared to be attacked themselves. Tunn rubbed his eyes. He tried to follow the chain of events back to the capture of Kulyt, but he didn't quite understand what had happened. Looking back on it, it was like some higher power had steered it all, nudging opinions there, clouding judgment here... And then, Tunn's contemplation was roughly disturbed by a knock on the door.

"Guys?!", a voice whispered loudly. Axel shot Tunn a nervous glance before asking: "Who's there?"

"It's me, Sanir! Open up, quickly!" Tunn was baffled that Sanir had actually returned. He had no idea how he'd managed to get to their house unharmed, but the fact that he did meant that maybe, just maybe, he could get them out of the city as well. A tiny spark of hope ignited in Tunn's mind as he helped Axel lift the table. Axel opened the door to a tiny gap that Sanir immediately slid through. His usual stylish, practical clothes had been replaced by a long sort of robe, that looked like it had once belonged to someone rich and important, however, it had a few holes and it was covered in filth, and even though the bottom seams had been carelessly ripped off, It was way too big for the short coyote and he had to lift it a little when he walked. It was almost comical. Tunn knew he had little time to talk, and asked all of his questions in a single confused stutter.

"Shut up, there's no time to explain now. We're leaving Kulyt right now. This army will tear itself to pieces and when it does, you two will be done for. That is, unless you can disguise yourself as natives. Put these on."

He pulled out some rags from under his clothing and threw them in Tunn's face before helping Axel take off his armour. The clothes were way too small for Tunn, as if they'd belonged to a boy once, and he could hardly muscle into them without popping the seams. When they were done, Axel and Tunn looked like furry professional wrestlers playing the orphans in the workhouse in an Oliver Twist performance. Sanir looked doubtful.

"It'll have to do," He said. "Your stuff stays here. Stay close to me." He slipped through the door again and lead them through a wild chase through the alleyways, peeking around every corner before crossing a street. It was a mess. There were bodies and small fires everywhere. They passed some fighting soldiers, but nobody noticed them, which was surprising considering their ridiculous outfits. Tunn didn't know where they were going, but the route did seem somewhat familiar. Just before they rounded the last corner(Sanir had taken quite the back route to avoid open spaces), Sanir stopped all of a sudden. Axel almost bumped him over. Sanir took one more good look at them. Their "disguises" didn't seem to completely please him. "It'll have to do," he said once more. He kneeled down, gathered some sand in his paws, and then proceeded to spit in it numerous times. Axel and Tunn looked on in mute fascination, although nothing Sanir did could really surprise him. His bizarre plan had gotten them this far; they had no choice but to just go with it. Sanir held the mixture out to them like a child presenting a mud pie. When they looked at it sheepishly, waiting for it to transform or something, Sanir sighed in frustration. Put-this-on-your-face, he said slowly. He didn't wait for them to respond, simply rubbing a handful of dirty goo on each of their snouts and wiping his hands on their clothes. Still Tunn didn't resist, he did nothing but wait for Sanir to do whatever he was doing. This kind of complete surrender was in a way scary, but also relieving. Sanir inspected them one more time, then turned around to a little wooden door. "Don't speak," he said, and don't look any of them in the eye. If you stick with me, I'll get you through this, but you have to follow me and keep cool, otherwise even I won't be able to save you." And with these puzzling instructions he knocked on the door three times; softly twice, and then loudly once after waiting half a second. The door opened immediately and the three men entered.

It was a dark, crowded room, lit by a few candles. When Tunn's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, which was even worse than outside, he saw there were nearly a hundred animals in the room, pressed together like sardines in a tin. When he recognized them, the fur on his neck sprung up like spikes. These were the native Kulytians, the losers of the brief battle that had gone on nearly two weeks ago (it felt like much, much longer). They were filthy, emaciated, but life had returned to their eyes. These creatures were not planning to die with their city. They had some sort of plan, and he would bet his head that Sanir had everything to do with it. Sanir was probably the one who had somehow gotten them out of the massive holding cell where they had been kept all his time, and then managed to smuggle them to a new hiding place. The Kulytians were planning to escape their captors while they were busy fighting each other. And they were in control here.

All of a sudden he understood why Sanir had made them leave their armor behind. His paw instinctively stroked his hip, although he knew he was completely unarmed. If they suspected Tunn and Axel were with the mercenaries, that would be the end of them. All their resent and wrath would come down on the two soldiers and they would be ripped to shreds. They had to pass as Kulytians, as prisoners who had lost everything and had barely survived the last few days. Some of the Kulytians did a double-take, when they saw the two muscular and well-fed newcomers who didn't seem to have any injuries or diseases. Tunn saw Axel crouching down to appear less tall and looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact. He instinctively followed the old wolf's example, as he had done many times before, but he was still taller than everyone in the room. This must be what an inmate who was a sheriff once feels like, he thought.Fortunately, exactly at that time a Kulytian cougar raised his voice just enough to be heard over the constant whispering. Tunn couldn't understand him, but he seemed to be asking a question to the others. They murmured something in response, before the cougar walked over to the wall and crouched down. The room became anxiously quiet. The last thing Tunn saw was Sanir, making his way around the candles to blow them out one by one.

Darkness. Silence. A cough. The sound of clicking and scraping metal. Metal across stone. Then, whispered instructions and a splash. And another one. More exited voices rising across the crowd. The splashes started following each other more rapidly and the furry bodies began to move in one direction. It was still completely dark and Tunn couldn't find Axel by touch. He was afraid to stop the slow collective shuffle toward the splashing noises or call out to his friend, because the people near him might recognize his foreign name or his accent if he responded. Tunn was alone, covered in dirt, squeezed between strangers, walking into the unknown. And for the first time since Sanir had gotten them out of their squatted house, he heard the fighting and screaming going on outside and he was truly scared.

Suddenly, his toes were dangling off a ledge and Tunn instinctively stepped back into the pushing crowd. _ If my last step had been a footlength bigger I would have fallen off._ It flashed through his head like a scientific observation. He looked down and it looked like there were three or four tiny lights embedded in the ground before him. An encouragement was hissed in his ear. Some bony hands pushed his back, but they couldn't move him. Then, to Tunn's left, a match was struck that illuminated the face of the cougar from before, inches away from him.

Before his feet was a square hole in the floor, that had been covered by tiles lying to the side of it. In the vague light, he couldn't see how deep the hole was. Then, the cougar smiled comfortingly, snuffed the match, and pushed Tunn in.

Tunn tumbled through the darkness. He was only aware of his own panic and the hollow silence around him. Later, he only remembered thinking: Isn't my life supposed to flash before my eyes? before hearing a loud splash and realizing he was underwater.

Trying to make sense of the situation he held his breath, but before things like swimming or drowning or things like that even crossed his mind, two claws grabbed his shoulders and dragged him up. He gasped for breath, even though he had only been underwater for a second, when he was dragged onto a ledge and heard another splash behind him. He stroked the wet hair from his eyes and saw some silhouettes with torches around him, dragging animals from the water. He was in a sort of tunnel, with a big moat or something in the middle, at least six meters wide and apparently deeper than he was tall. On the ledge by this side of the water were throngs of drenched Kulytians, huddling together for warmth. In the high ceiling was a square vertical tunnel that every few seconds, someone fell out of into the water before being picked up by the torchbearers. He slowly started to understand what was happening, but it was like the cold was slowing down his brain so he couldn't think properly anymore. Bloody hell, it's cold down here. He had been in the desert for so long he had almost forgotten what cold was like. Strangely enough, it was a welcome change, though he had the feeling he wouldn't get a chance to dry up soon.

They were lead through the tunnel for what felt like hours. Two torchbearers lead the way, then came a long line of animals, two bodies wide. They hugged the wall, because the ledge by the side of the water had crumbled in some places and every now and then, someone fell in when the bricks gave way under their feet. Two other men with torches closed the line, so that nobody was left behind. At first, Tunn thought they were following the water downstream, but became more and more convinced it wasn't really flowing at all. Once, the silent procession of escapees passed an arrow drawn on the wall, leading Tunn to understand the route had already been planned out for them in advance. He was still trying to formulate a plausible theory about how this plan actually worked. A network beneath the city with water running through it, that's a sewer. But the water was clean and not running, and he wasn't sure if the Kulytians would willfully fling themselves in sewage one after the other. Not to mention, why there would be a hatch to the sewer in someones house? And apart from that, a sewer goes downhill and Kulyt was in a valley. The only way to get away from it is uphill, so unless they had a giant underground hole that the sewer lead to... well, his theories needed some work.

He still hadn't found Axel yet. The light was vague and the line very long. He had to be somewhere among them, because nobody could have been left behind. Right? He realized it was the relying on others he didn't like about this entire plan. Keeping his head down and following the stream hadn't worked for him when he was a kid, or ever since. He survived because he took initiative. Farm animals, he thought. Livestock. There are so many who just follow instructions from the day they are born to the day they die. They trust a farmer with their lives and lay their necks on the chopping block when he tells them to. Do they deserve to live any more than I do? And here he was, trusting Sanir (who he hadn't seen for a while either) to save him, following the group to wherever he would be taken. I didn't have a plan when Sanir came to get me, he thought. and now I'm complaining because I'm not in control? What a hypocrite I am. _ _ _ _

They had been going uphill for a few minutes now, but Tunn had no idea how far they'd gotten. They had made a sudden left turn away from the water and were now going through a narrow hallway. The ceiling that had been meters high above the water was now scraping the top of his head. The group could move slightly faster now, because they didn't have to watch their step so cautiously anymore. There was a strange tranquility in his mind. His legs were numb, but still moving automatically. He didn't have to think, talk, or perceive. This walking was like the things you do when it's really late and you are nearly going to sleep but not quite yet.. When your arm goes back and forth on its own to brush your teeth because your brain is almost asleep already and you brush your teeth for ten minutes because time doesn't "register" anymore. In the back of his mind, some words drifted by, like: "Confined space" and: "Lots of animals" and: "lack of oxygen" but none of them provoked any response. A murmer waved through the line. The ruffling of the feet sped up. The animals in front gasped for breath, the crowd broke formation and pushed itself forward, a light danced in front of Tunn's eye, it grew in size, faster and faster and the group poured out of the exit of the tunnel like an avalanche coming through a garden hose. The fresh morning air brushed across their dry noses like summer rain on a crumbling boulder. Some of them burst out crying or laughing. They dropped flat into the cool sand and basked in the nurturing glow of the rising sun.

"Tunn!" Tunn had to squint his eyes against the brightness of the sun after having been underground for so long. It didn't matter, because he knew who the figure running toward him was. Axel ran into him and they shared an awkward, yet sincere hug.

"Look!" He pointed down to the city of Kulyt, down in between the hills. With a shock Tunn realized this wasn't very far from the place where they had stood with Sanir and Ralph, waiting for the signal to attack. A morning just like this one... It seemed an eternity ago. But now, all that lay in the valley below was the burned out carcass of what had once been a thriving settlement. The walls were crumbling, the high buildings flattened, and thick black smoke came from countless fires. The difference between a young bird, dancing through the sky because it just discovered how to fly, and the pile of bones and organs left behind when a car runs over it could hardly have been any greater. For the Kulytians, it was a tragic sight indeed, but they didn't seem very worked up about it. Their home was gone, yes, but they were alive to find a new one. Their resilience and adaptability impressed Tunn. It was probably something native to all desert peoples. Many of the Kulytians were now dancing in vague circle-formations as if they had shaken off all their worries and weariness. With all the celebrating, Tunn felt confident enough to speak to Axel in their own language.

"So, what are we going to do now? We are the only ones left, and we have no supplies, nothing."

"Oh, lighten up. Look at them." He nodded at the celebrating crowd behind him. "If we were stranded in the middle of nowhere, they wouldn't be having so much fun. My guess is, there's another town nearby where we can go."

"Okay, maybe we can get back to civilization, but then we're still two foreigners who don't speak the language, with no money and no place to stay. And if they find out who we are..."

"We don't have to stay with the Kulytians once we get to the nearest city. We'll just slip away at the first opportunity, camp somewhere, maybe learn some key phrases in the local dialect. We're healthy young men, there's bound to be someplace where we can work for food, make some money... and then we go wherever we please" His eyes became dreamy. "We can get on a ship, or steal a horse and go down the nearest road. Go east. Nobody knows us there. We're big, tough, and we can fight. We take what we want, just like we've always done. You and I, we're thugs, down to our very bones. The world is full of beautiful things to destroy." Tunn was quiet for a moment.

"That does sound nice."

Meanwhile, A cougar was dancing with his family. The ecstatic joy of being out in the open again after so long, being free to make as much noise as you wanted without being afraid of being caught by the invaders was one of the greatest feelings he knew. He, together with some others who had enjoyed trust and respect from the community before the invasion had started working on a plan when they noticed the spreading anarchy and violence spreading among their captors. They had realized that the foreign army would eat itself alive over the Pieces and once it did, the prisoners would die with them. They would all fall victim to the mercenaries lust for revenge. Therefore, If they didn't escape in the next few days, they would never escape at all. It was around that time that Sanir had showed up. Many of the Kulytians regarded him as a traitor, and they certainly had a point. But by then, everyone willing to help on the outside of that horrible cell they were kept in was welcome. Together, they had made the plan and Sanir had smuggled them out the door to a house that had been carefully selected beforehand. The underground route was planned, preparations were made, and all the while, they knew if one of the soldiers found them, they were done for. Luckily, the bastards were too busy tearing each other apart for reasons unknown. And everything had gone as planned. They had been completely sure death was coming, and they had survived. A day's walking west was a city called Orah_,_ that the cougar had visited a few times for business. They probably knew something had happened in Kulyt, and would receive the refugees with open arms. He hoped. The cougar let go of his little girl's hand, and told her to go dance with her mother and sisters. He looked out over the city he had called his home and wondered what they would have done if nearly a hundred starving animals from Orah had showed up by the gate one day, asking for food and shelter. He sighed. They still had a long way to go. But they were alive. At least they were alive, and together.

He noticed two men looking out over the destroyed city, discussing something. They looked like two huge dogs, with unusually colored fur. He didn't know them, and they weren't celebrating with the rest. "Poor souls," he thought. "they must have been real patriots. Maybe they don't have a family anymore, all they had was what they built themselves, in Kulyt. And now it's all gone." He walked over to the grey-haired wolf and put his paw on the man's shoulder. "It's all right, I know how it feels," he told him. "Kulytians stick together. We'll help you get back on your feet. What's your name?"

Tunn heared a Pat as the big cougar slapped Axel's shoulder and poured out a stream of Kulytian words with a great smile. He asked Axel something, and Axel just stood there, with his mouth half open, staring in the cougars face. "Uuhh..." he said, followed by long silence. The cougar looked closely at his face, and pulled Axel's hood back a little, while they both just stood there like frozen. The cougar's eyes widened a bit. He looked at Tunn's strange attire with a look of horror, and Tunn saw something clicked in the guy's brain. They were officially, completely, irreversibly, royally screwed.

Tunn snapped out of his frozen state and jumped forward, not knowing what he would do when he reached the cougar in a fraction of a second. One problem at a time. The cougar stepped back, screaming a warning, his arm smashed into Axel's stomach. Axel grabbed his wrist and threw him to the ground. The refugees started screaming. A Kulytian ran at Axel, but Tunn tackled him. They rolled through the sand, and another pulled Tunn away onto his back. Four men grabbed Tunn's limbs and held him down. Tunn looked up to see the cougar and two other men holding Axel on his back too. The cougar held a bloodied knife to Axel's face. Tunn's stomach dropped when he saw a steady flow of blood coming from Axel's side.

So, this was it. They had gotten close. But in the end, almost isn't good enough. They had gotten close to freedom, but now they were going to die anyway. It's not like we don't deserve this, Tunn thought. He felt his heart rate slowing down. He knew what that meant, as every warrior does. His body understood what was about to happen and was now preparing to power down. He turned his head to the rising sun and smiled vaguely. Yes, He thought, This is how it was supposed to happen. This is right. I made my own choices, nobody forced me to become who I am. I gambled and lost. I couldn't ask for anything more. I'm ready. He heard Axel's breathing slowing down and knew he was ready too. This is the right way. _ _

But the voices above him didn't stop talking and instead of a sharp blade, a foot stomped on his chest. The stomper was pulled away hysterically crying. What was taking so long?

The mood changed from happy to quite panicked when it became apparent that two of the escapees that the Kulytians had walked through a narrow hallway with for some hours were members of the same military force they had tried to escape from. Actually, "panicked" is somewhat of an understatement. "Panicked" didn't even begin to describe it. Imagine someone who is deathly afraid of heights and has just climbed down a telephone pole only to find what he thought to be the ground to be a small platform suspended half a mile in the air. Somehow. Regardless of how one would get in such a situation, such a poor soul would be "panicked". The escaped Kulytians had completely lost all sense of reason and were experiencing a form of small-scale mass hysteria. Many of them were sure that the rest of the army had to be close and would jump them any minute now, to put them back in their hellish prison or worse. Strangely enough, executing the two wasn't on everyone's mind. Yet. What was on everyone's mind was utter despair and who could be blamed for letting them in. The cougar who had put himself in a position of authority when the escape was planned felt like the world was collapsing around his broad shoulders. How the hell did this happen? What did this mean? Was the safety of the entire group compromised? He knew there was only one person who might be able to make a reasonable suggestion how they got here and what to do. If nothing else, Sanir could translate between him and the captives. He called his name at the top of his lungs three times before Sanir showed up. He looked calm on the outside, but the cougar could see a sort of fear in his eyes that he had never seen in him before. Sanir doesn't panic at times like this, he thought. Only when he himself is directly in danger. And all of a sudden, the cougar did not trust him blindly as he had done before. Since the planning of the escape had started, he had always been fearful of some thousands of things that could have gone wrong. But he had never expected finding a mercenary among them after the actual escape, or having to question the one person who he trusted more than anyone. The cougar had to do both now and he had never felt more powerless or alone than at that moment. But he could show no sign of weakness. He sounded calm and in control when he said:

"Sanir, do you know these two?"

Tunn saw Sanir's face blocking the sun above him. He had some questions, but none of them were worth asking. Sanir moved away from him, and stood over Axel's body for a while. Axel's open wound was now being wrapped in some cloth.

"No, I don't know who they are. They all look the same to me." Sanir said in Kulytian to the cougar.

"You hung out with the army when they were stationed outside the city, didn't you meet the officers?"

"Of course not," Sanir said. "They didn't want me to know what they were going to do. I thought they had come to Kulyt to trade with us, so I only met a few of them who posed as diplomats."

"But if they knew the escape plan, they must have had some contact with you after the invasion. Maybe you unconsciously said something that..."

"No, I haven't spoken with them after the siege at all. I don't know them."

Bullshit, He thought. The cougar looked deep into Sanir's eyes. Sanir looked right back without flinching. The cougar looked over his shoulder, to the crowd behind them. Fear was on everyone's face. He bent over to Sanir and whispered in his ear:

"They are scared. And more importantly, they want to take revenge on these guys. If you know them, this is your last chance to say so. Unless you vouch for them somehow, they will die here. Tell us they were forced to cooperate by their brothers. We can work something out, I won't let you suffer for your compassion, I swear." He grabbed Sanir's shoulders and stared into his eyes as if he wanted to look through his head.

"For god's sake Sanir, If you know who these men are, tell me now."

"No, I have never seen them in my life."

The cougar had to hide his disgust when he let Sanir go. You lying bastard, He thought, these men trusted you. They probably think you're trying to save them right now. If you protected them, I would protect you. But you're too much of a coward. Would you betray me just as easily if you had to?

He turned to the Kulytians, who were still instinctively waiting for his verdict, and said:

"These men were with the army that invaded our city. We don't know how they got among our ranks, but it's not safe to let them go. I'm afraid we'll have to..." He didn't finish his sentence, but the Kulytians already stepped forward with knives and hatchets. The cougar saw locked eyes with the big white fox, who seemed to understand what was going to happen.

A voice sounded from the ranks, commanding and awe-inspiring as the cougar's should have been. The people instinctively stopped. A meerkat tread forward from the crowd, who made space for her as for someone with power and distinction. She had the pace of a natural leader, even though her bones were visible through her skin and her long blue dress was worn to the thread. She walked right past the prisoners and the Kulytians with knives raised above their bodies. She made straight for Sanir, who didn't move a muscle. She stood right in front of him for a moment, her eyes going up and down his body, sizing him up like a piece of meat. He was slightly smaller than she was, but he looked her straight in the eye. He coughed softly and started: " Good to see you're safe, miss... " The meerkat slapped him straight across the face. It wasn't particularly hard, but the obvious disgust and restrained anger seemed to add an awesome power to it. Nobody dared to make a sound.

"Sickening." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but everyone heard it loud and clear. "Is this how you treat all your friends? It's boys like you make northerners think all desert creatures are selfish." Sanir looked shocked, but not quite shocked enough. She turned to the Kulytians and said.

"This man's family once owned a well. They went bankrupt. I knew his father, and his grandfather too when I was a little girl. They were kind people. They had nothing, but were deeply loyal to our great city and always willing to help out their neighbors. They, in turn, supported the family, and paid for the little boy's education until his parents had died. Unfortunately, he grew up to be resentful and ungrateful. He abandoned us when the army came. Don't believe his lies, he always knew why they were here and he was hoping to make some money by selling them information. But when he saw that his new friends were going crazy and turned on each other, he ran back to us in our little cell and expected us to accept him back as one of our own." She pointed at the mercenaries on the ground. "These men were with him when Kulyt fell. I expect helping them escape the collapsing city was the only truly selfless act he has ever done in his life, or is likely to ever do. But when the plan failed, he turned his back on them like he did with us." She turned to the crowd that was still mesmerized by her. She looked each one of them deeply in the eyes. "My child was killed, " she continued. "Many of your children were killed. Your parents and siblings were killed. What I ask of you is to forgive the men that killed them. I know this is probably the hardest thing you will ever have to do. I am old enough to know of a time when Kulyt was one of the greatest empires that has ever existed. Our culture was once decades ahead of its time. We made structures the world has never seen before, from underground water supplies to acres of decent housing for the poorest of the poor. But our greatest asset was not a material one. That culture did not glorify violence and revenge like these lawless marauders do. They were tolerant, reasonable, and understood that bloodshed could only set them back whereas true justice made them greater." She paused and looked at Sanir, as if uttering his name would defile her mouth. "We must exercise true justice on our own citizens when they abandon us to slavery and death. And more importantly, we must seize this opportunity to show that we are morally greater than these foreigners. Remember your great ancestors, and what they tried to teach us."

Just when Tunn thought the moment of his death had truly arrived, yet another Kulytian had interrupted and started off on the longest monologue that he had ever not understood. He didn't immediately recognize her because of her change in attitude. When he had seen her, she had been a miserable, broken woman. Apparently, looking good to her neighbors was more important to her than grieving over her murdered child. That's a little unfair, He mentally corrected himself. I don't even know what she's saying. For all I know, she's using her dead cub to make a case for my death being slow and painful. The Kulytians thought about her words for a long time. And then, a miracle happened. The men who had been lying on top of him stood up and slowly walked away. Tunn couldn't believe what was happening. He was so sore he couldn't immediately stand. The cougar with the knife said something to Sanir, then grabbed his arm and dragged him over to Tunn. The cougar held his knife to Sanir's face, yelling at him. Sanir looked like a boy whose parents forced him to apologize to a teacher for being naughty. Tunn couldn't logically deduct what had happened, but he suddenly got the feeling that Sanir wasn't completely on his side anymore. Sanir muttered:

"They blame me for conspiring with your army. I am cast out to stay here with you. I will not be allowed to travel with the Kulytians any further." The female meerkat pointed at Sanir and spoke to Tunn:

"Talked that not know you. Talked not know you two again. He not brother for us, he not brother for you." The cougar laid his still bloody knife in Tunn's hand.

"You decide." Tunn looked at Sanir, whose head was bowed down, and he understood. They sat on their knees, across from each other. Sweat was trickling through their fur; The sun was at its highest point. The kulytians walked away like a silent, solemn parade. They went down the dune, not even laying a last glance on the remains of their city. Tunn looked at Sanir, who still refused to look him in the eye. For the first time, Tunn realized how much bigger he was.

"Was that true?"

Sanir didn't answer. Of course it was true, why would they lie? Tunn had a lot to think about, but his thoughts were static and fruitless as carts without wheels. When the Kulytians were gone, Tunn got up. Sanir instantly recoiled, but Tunn simply told him to stay where he was and went to check on Axel's body. He had bled to death, as Tunn had expected. Someone had made an attempt to stop the bleeding with a rag, but it had been no use. The sand was dark and sticky but completely dry. Axel's eyes were staring straight into the blinding sun. His expression was blank, even though he must have been in great pain for a moment when he was stabbed. One of his paws was still covering his wounds. Some say bleeding to death was very painful, others say it's like sliding into a warm bath. Tunn hoped it was the latter, but whichever it was, it was over now. Axel was gone. Tunn felt strangely sedated, as if a mind-numbing drug smoothed over his emotions. He should be mourning his best friend and celebrating his own survival now, but he felt unable to do either of those things. He had been so certain he would die, that his mind hadn't completely accepted the fact that he didn't yet.

Tunn didn't know what to do with Axel's body. He didn't have a shovel to bury him with, or even a sheet to wrap him in. He considered trying to dig with his paws. Army "protocol" had been not to waste too much time and effort on the dead, but why would that still apply? He felt a small breeze picking up and he suddenly had an idea. He picked Axel up and carried him downhill in the direction of Kulyt twenty paces. The sand was being driven up and over the hill by the wind. Anything he left here would eventually be covered by the creeping sand, if the wind kept up. He laid the old wolf down and thought back to the moment when he had first heard his voice after the escape. Their plans, their dreams. Then he turned around and walked away without looking back. Sanir was still sitting cross-legged atop the dune. He knew that if he ran away, Tunn would eventually catch him. So he hadn't moved, as he had been instructed. Tunn recognized his posture, his breathing, the way he looked at the vast emptiness of the desert around him. Sanir would not try to run from him. He had accepted his fate, however it would turn out.

They sat across each other in silence for a minute. Tunn eventually said: "I have some questions about everything that happened the last few days. If you try to run from me, I'll catch you and kill you. I wouldn't lose sleep over it, but I'd never get the answers I want. And I think you owe me that much." Sanir looked up at Tunn with a hateful look. Tunn wondered if he was considering running away just to deny Tunn the answers that he wanted. Who knows what a dying man is thinking? I do, Tunn thought, Just now, I was a dying man myself. Sanir wasn't going to be that petty. _ _

"Shoot."

"What was that network of tunnels we used to get out of the city?"

"What do you know about Kulytian history?"

"Zip."

"About three centuries ago, Kulyt was the capital of an empire that stretched across nearly the entire desert. It was the most technologically advanced civilization of its time. The population of the city was nearly three times the size it was when you found it. That many people need ridiculous amounts of water. No natural oasis can supply that. There were wells and springs nearby, but the little companies that had always supplied the locals just couldn't keep up with the demand. So the Kulytian engineers built a system of underground tunnels and canals that transported water from nearly fifty different locations to the city. It cost ten years and a fortune to build, but it worked perfectly. Annual droughts were no longer an issue. The only ones who were not so pleased with it were the well-owners. Most of them went bankrupt, a huge economical problem that, among many other things, led to the collapse of the empire." He snickered. " My great-great-grandfather was a moron. He tried to make a living off a system that had been obsolete for nearly a hundred years. He struck an undiscovered pocket of water in the ground and he thought he could become rich off it. He tried to fight the technological progress of the empire instead of using it. And by doing so, doomed his descendants to a life of poverty." Sanir's face twisted with rage when he spoke of his ancestors. Tunn thought back to the time he had spent in the city and many things became a lot clearer to him.

"And did this ancient civilization also build the pieces?" Sanir giggled.

"Ah, yes, the "pieces". They aren't actually called that, but I won't bother you with the Kulytian term. It literally translates to the "evidence of wealth". Out of all the temples, museums, palaces, forts, underground structures and inventions that the ancient Kulytians made, they are without a doubt the most bizarre. There was once a forest, many hundreds of miles south, containing nine trees. Before the empire, they were called the Trees of Perseverance and worshipped by many people who lived nearby. Ancient geographers and poets have conjured up thousands of metaphors to describe how huge they were. I wonder if Ralph would have taken a crack at it, if he had ever seen them."

"I'm sure he would have."

"Sure. Anyway, they had been there for as long as anyone could remember. They were right on top of a spring, and they didn't grow anymore, but somehow they survived. nine unimaginably tall and wide trees, in the middle of the desert, that had somehow survived for centuries. It was nothing short of a natural miracle. They belonged to a species that could be found nowhere else in the world. But then, when the Kulytian empire stretched out its claws to them, they were cut down. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But the ancient Kulytians felt rivalled by the trees in strength and hardiness, so they cut them down. It took months. Hundreds of locals died trying to protect them. But the Kulytians wanted to prove the might of their empire by not only cutting them down, but even bringing them all the way back to Kulyt like defeated enemies. It was ridiculous and sick. Making the Pieces was the ultimate celebration of their decadence. The wood was enormously dry and tough, as you would expect from trees that grew on very little water for eons. They spent an ocean of manhours turning them into something completely useless, just because they could. They made them as difficult and complex as they could imagine. This was how the ancient Kulytians proved their wealth and power to the world. By dropping mountains of money down a bottomless pit."

"But then why did they put them in such a crummy old warehouse?"

"There are many who say that it was exactly that arrogance that eventually caused the collapse of the empire. And they certainly have a point. It basically grew and grew without spending enough time on infrastructure and governmental whatchamacallit until it caved in under its own weight." There was a sadistic grin on Sanir's face as he described his culture decaying because of its own stupidity. "The Pieces remind the Kulytian people of the decadence and self-overestimation of our ancestors. There is very little proof for that the empire has ever existed for the outside world. All Kulyt has is a few monuments and its collective memory. We couldn't destroy the pieces, because it reminds us both of our former greatness and of our shortcomings. So they were put somewhere where nobody had to see them."

So that was it. That was the secret the entire band of marauders had been wiped out for, or rather, had wiped itself out for. The Pieces were nothing more than the change in your wallet that made it look bigger. Tunn tried to wrap his head around it, and found it surprisingly easy. The greatest pride and shame of a city, depending how you look at it. It was, in a way, very ironic that the Pieces had brought down Kulyt's enemies without actually protecting the city. Tunn was probably the only outsider who would ever know. And even if he ever told anyone, who would believe him? What a beautifully moronic secret to take to his grave.

Sanir had become quiet now that the last information he had to offer Tunn had been exposed. He sat straight, waiting for Tunn to strike. Tunn was still plunged in thought. He looked up and asked: "Why do people live here?"

"Where?"

"In the desert. Why do people live where there is nothing but sand and rocks?"

Sanir smiled for the first time since Tunn met him. "Because if there's nothing there, you control what is. Animals shape the desert, and the desert shapes us."

Tunn smiled back and stood up.

"Go." Sanir looked baffled. Tunn jerked his head in a "scram" motion. Sanir scrabbled up, ran a few paces, stopped, thought, and turned around.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not a hero."

"There are no heroes. It's okay, just go."

Sanir nodded. "I think I'll go north," He said. "Like way north, where you come from. How's the weather there?"

"Cold."

"Sounds good. Cool off a bit." He giggled. "Where are you going?"

"My army is gone, so I'm not a soldier anymore." He paused. "I've always hated the desert, you know. It's hot as hell and everyone who lives here is crazy. But I am in control here." He put his paw over his eyes and looked west. "Once I get to Orah I'll hitch a ride to the nearest big city, find a job. Maybe finally get some rest."

Sanir nodded agreeingly. "You deserve it. You look tired." They stood there for a while, listening to the silence.

"Goodbye".

"Bye".

Their tracks drew an enormous right angle in the sand.