The White Moon was no friend, but it carried an echo of the feeling of belonging, an echo that soothed his troubled mind, if only for a little while.

The night passed with no trouble. The four of them took turns keeping the fire bright and strong, both warding off the night's chill and repelling the sand-ghosts that haunted the desert the night before. The night allowed Tarrin to think, to look at the other three with him as they slept and ponder their presence, and how they made him feel. It made him come to a few conclusions, conclusions that part of him still all but rioted against, so strongly they were aligned against the idea.

If Var asked to travel with them, Tarrin would not say no.

He'd decided that while throwing strips of bark into the fire in the dead of night. He had to do what Mist did. He had to confront what he feared, confront it and face it day after day after day. He couldn't do that unless an object to fear was available. Denai wouldn't be enough, she reminded him too much of a child for him to truly fear her. Var was an adult, someone that the animal in him did indeed fear, but Var was also trained enough to be able to evade any sudden attack that he may initiate against him. Given a little preventive education by Denai and Sarraya, the Selani male should be able to prevent himself from getting into any of those situations. Something inside him told him that Var wanted to stay with them. He didn't know what it was, but it was a strong feeling. And given what had happened recently, he'd decided to listen very closely to that gut feelings. So far, they had yet to lead him astray. And Var's presence would force Tarrin to face his fear, face the demons inside that urged him to attack or to flee. Given time, he hoped, he would find that fear was his enemy, not the people who created it inside him.

It was morning, and the sun was rising over the eastern horizon. With it came the morning winds, but they were broken up by the rock spire and the fallen rock that formed the enclosed space that they had used to set up their camp. He couldn't really hear them whipping outside the camp, but it was early yet. They were at their strongest about an hour after sunrise, after the sun had had some time to heat the air and cause it to move. The others were also awake, eating a meal of toasted oat cakes Denai had made over the fire. Var seemed completely at ease with the others, trading barbs with Sarraya lightly. Tarrin had not spoken to any of them since the night before. Then again, he had something to do, and it wasn't going to put him in a very good mood.

It was time to aggravate himself.

He wanted to do it last night, but even he wasn't crazy enough to go out into the darkness alone with those Sandmen out there. He didn't want to do it near them, because their scents distracted him, and he had enough distractions already. The top of the broken rock spire would do very well, he'd decided. It was out of the way, yet not too far from the others. They wouldn't bother him up there-at least they wouldn't if they knew what was good for them-and it would give him the isolation and peace he needed to try to regain his magic.

"Go ahead and get started," he told them, without bothering to greet them. "I'll catch up in about an hour."

"Well good morning," Sarraya said acidly.

"We'll not leave you behind, Tarrin," Denai said mildly. "If you're not ready to leave, then we'll wait."

"I guess I should move on," Var said with a bit of a sigh. "But without my fire-pack, I don't do my people very much good as a Scout. I can't set signal fires to warn them of possible danger."

"I can whip up anything you need, Var," Sarraya offered. "You name it, I'll Conjure it."

"I appreciate the offer, friend Sarraya," Var said with a smile. "That way I don't feel as if I'm dishonoring myself by abandoning my duty."

"Accidents happen, Var," Sarraya told him dismissively. "Especially when those accidents hunt you down and try to eat you."

Var laughed. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to travel with you for a ways. This stretch of desert has proven to be dangerous, and as they say, safety runs in numbers. I think that travelling with you would be much more interesting anyway, and right now, we're all going in the same direction. I can do my duty to my tribe and scout, and travel with you at the same time." He smiled. "You could always use another pair of hands to keep the fire going, couldn't you?"

Var looked at Denai, Denai looked at Sarraya, and Sarraya looked at Tarrin. She knew that it hinged on Tarrin's consent. Tarrin had already made his decision, but something in him told him not to tip his hand that he had. He stood there and fixed Var with a suitably flat look, one that made the Selani take a step back, then he blew out his breath. "Just stay away from me," he warned in an ominous tone. "And don't bother me. As long as you do that, you can do whatever you want."

"Why, Tarrin, that's something of a surprise," Sarraya said in sincere consternation.

"He's a pair of hands for the fire. Nothing more," Tarrin growled in her direction, then he turned his back on them, and started climbing up the broken rock spire.

"I think he likes you, Var," Sarraya said with a giggle, but Tarrin tuned them out before he heard any replies, using his claws to scamper up the sheer rock face with ease.

He found a comfortable spot on the relatively flat top of the broken spire, sat down and wrapped his tail around his crossed legs, and began. His method for trying hadn't really changed since the start, because it was the only thing he could think of to try. He tried to reach out to the Weave and have it respond.

And like every other time, it was nowhere to be found. For well over an hour he attempted to make contact with the Weave, but it all came to naught. As always, it was visible but untouchable, a vaporous ghost that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. Every time he reached towards it, it melted away from him. It was the same aggravation, because he could sense the Weave, sense its every nuance for longspans in every direction, could feel the pulsing of the magical energy of it through the Weave, through his veins. He could hear it, hear the choral echoing vibrations as the magic flowed through it, could almost hear the pounding of the Goddess' heart along the strands. His ability to sense it was so incredibly acute that it mystified him that he couldn't find a connection to that energy, a bridge to bring its power to him.

He concentrated on his sense of it, listening to it, feeling it more and more intently. Maybe, he reasoned, if he could come to a more intimate understanding of it, it would be there when he reached for it. Falling back on the skills taught to him by Allia, he emptied his mind of all extraneous thoughts, emptied his mind of all feelings and sensation. He emptied himself of everything except for the Weave, of his sense of it, giving it the entirety of his concentration. Eyes closed, his ears twitched with the sounds of the Weave, a eerie haunting melody of discordant notes that blended together into something that was disturbingly beautiful. Like the haunting songs of the big fish that Keritanima called whales, echoing through the Weave. He descended deeper into himself, subverted all thought in lieu of seeking the unspoken messages he hoped that would be in the Weave that could guide him to its power. His expression became neutral, then serene as he raised his chin and opened his senses, seeking to touch the Weave with more than just his mind, trying to leave all distractions behind him. Even the eyeless face fell away from his consciousness as he strove to reach above all other things, to rise above all distraction and seek to call in the power he sought.

The attempt had a strange, unpredictable effect. He became aware of a change, a fundamental shift in his senses, and when he opened his eyes, the desert was gone. It had been replaced by a void of utter, unfathomable blackness, a darkness that went beyond any description of black. It was an anti-light, an utter lack of anything. His first reaction was one of fear, but that flowed away quickly when he realized that there was nothing there to harm him. It was merely a place, like any other, and somehow he knew that he could return to where he had been at any time if he so wished it.