If she said anything after that, he would never know. He almost immediately fell unconscious, a deep, dreamless sleep from which he could not be awakened.

It was morning. Tarrin opened his eyes to find himself looking into the large reddish disc of the sun as it rose from the eastern horizon. The sun shone on him with the gentle warmth of the start of the day, warm rather than brutal, pleasant rather than oppressive. The air was still cool from the night, but something was draped over him to protect him from the biting night air. The smell of dried blood and the first stages of decaying flesh greeted him in that cool air.

He was stiff, sore. Weak. He remembered what happened all too clearly, from the pain to the fear of it. The Cat had used Sorcery, and Sarraya had not been able to contain him. Had he not did some very fast thinking and done some creative experimentating with his power, he would be dead. He had escaped by a whisker that time.

Pushing himself up onto his arms, feeling the rock bite into him under his hip, he looked down at himself. He was covered by a leather blanket, which had that strange uncorrupted scent to it that told him that it was conjured. His sword was laying beside him, with a broken thong and some dried blood on the scabbard. Sarraya was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean that she wasn't around somewhere. The sky above him was cloudless, which was normal, but a great many vultures circled slowly over him, probably because of the kajat, but something kept them from landing to feast.

He shifted into a sitting position, rising up to get his tail out from under him, then rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. That was something that he never wanted to go through again. He'd overextended himself before, but never had he felt so close to death than he did that time. Always before, Sarraya or Triana or someone had intervened, had saved him, but that time he felt the stark reality that there was nobody that could protect him now. He had saved himself, literally before jumping into the abyss, with a desperate gamble that literally came down to life or death.

Once again, he managed to cheat Death. He had the feeling that She was starting to get frustrated.

The wind changed, and on it came the smell of Selani. Very close Selani.

Turning his head, he found himself staring at a Selani warrior sitting on a rock not far from him, covered from head to foot in the baggy clothing which they wore, head wrapped by sand-colored cloth and with a veil covering its face. Brown eyes peered between the veil and the turban-like head covering. He simply sat there, patiently, calmly, watching Tarrin with those unblinking eyes. That he had evaded Tarrin's notice before the wind changed said something for the Selani's ability to remain still, like he was a part of the desert.

It took him a moment to realize that the Selani had not attacked during the night, while he was unconscious. Then again, no Selani would do such a thing. Odds were, he was waiting for Tarrin to wake up, so he had the chance to defend himself. It wasn't dishonorable to attack an unsuspecting foe, but it was dishonorable to attack one that was incapable of defending himself. Ambushing Tarrin was perfectly fine, but attacking him in his sleep was not.

" Ande no adu bai," the Selani said with amusement, pulling down his veil.

It was Var!

"Var!" Tarrin said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in Selani, forgetting himself.

"You do speak the True Tongue," he said with a smile. "I knew it!"

"What are you doing here?" Tarrin demanded, trying to sound strong, even though he was as weak as a kitten.

"Following you," he replied. "I would not challenge you now, so don't worry. I'll not challenge you after you're well either."

"Isn't that against your custom?"

"Custom is one thing, a debt repaid is another," he said calmly. "You spared my life. I have sat vigil over you so the little blue one could scout for kajat, so honor has been repaid."

"And why are you here after ten days?"

"I came to challenge you again, but found you like this," he replied with a calm expression. "With a dead kajat not ten paces away from you. I think I'll bow to your sword now, rather than lose to you again," he said with a light smile. "There is no honor in foolishness. I'll not challenge one capable of killing a kajat single-handedly. My mother did not raise a fool."

"I appreciate that, I'm not really feeling up to a fight right now," he said wearily. "Believe me, the kajat gave back as good as it got."

"The little blue one told me. Bit your leg right off, she said, but I think she was making the tale more colorful."

"No, it bit my leg off," he affirmed. "It just grew back."

"Truly?"

"I'm a Lycanthrope, Var. A Were-cat. I can regrow lost limbs."

"Ah. That answers my next question," he said. "If I may ask, why are you here? Seeking to honor the one who taught you?"

"Actually, I'm just passing through," he replied. "I'm travelling from Saranam to Arkis, and I can't take a ship. This is the only way to go, so here I am."

"If you seek Arkis, you're going the wrong way," he replied. "The Sandshield is impassible along its southern reaches. If you intend to cross the mountains, you must cross over in the north."

"I didn't know that," he said honestly. "I thought there were some passes in the south."

"There are, but they're impassible at this time of year," he replied. "The storms coming out of the southern passes would kill you. The storms you've seen here started there, and they're no less powerful for travelling so far."

"I remember someone saying that the storms start at the Sandshield, but I guess I didn't think they'd be that bad," he fretted. "But the passes along the northern reaches are safe?"

"As safe as any pass in the Sandshield," he answered. "If you seek Arkis, you should turn northwest. It will save you time."

"That's true, but it's a longer journey."

"Much shorter than travelling west, then going north until you find a pass that's safe enough to use."

"True," he said with a rueful snort. "Guess I'm not thinking."

"You're new to our lands, so there's no reason to feel foolish," he replied. "I'd feel just as lost in the forests of Arkis."

"So would I," he said absently as he pulled off the blanket and struggled to his feet. His knees felt shaky, and the wind ruffled the fur on his right leg. His new right leg. The pant leg that had once covered his leg was gone, somewhere in the gullet of that dead monster, and what was left of his pants were covered in dried, hard blood. His shirt was also spattered with dried blood, and the smell of it was enough to make him want to get rid of them. He grabbed the shirt by the front and pulled it over his head, pulling his braid out with it, then cast it aside. His torso showed his normal pale skin, where his face and neck, subjected to days in the sun, were as brown as a Selani.

" Siswani," Var noted. "I don't know that clan."

"What?"

"Your brands. That's the clan brand of Faedellin. We call that brand Siswani, the Brand of Clan. I know the brand, but not the clan."

"I don't either," he grunted. "The brands were given to me by my deshaida, and she's not in the desert right now. Her clan doesn't know about me."

"So that's why you come as an invader instead of a brother," he said calmly. "You have the mark of the Holy Mother?"

Tarrin turned enough for him to see the sword-brand symbol of Fara'Nae on his other shoulder, and Var nodded. "You took a good brand," he complimented. "A much better brand than I expected to see on an outlander."

"I'm not human, Var," he said calmly. "My kind have a very high tolerance for pain."

"A good trait."

"That's a subjective point of view. It can cut both ways."