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Khalesar quietly wept as she cleaned and bandaged the wound Alam had taken in the lower back. It wasn't deep but it was dirty. The top of his pelvis had stopped the point from killing him. Alam was completely miserable, but not from the wound. His whole life would be gone within a day.

Not one moon. Now there is only one night.

"How does that feel?" Khalesar asked.

"Fine, mother," he replied

"Not too tight?"

"The bandage is fine."

Khalesar's fingers finished the final knot. She then asked what had most been worrying her.

"Will you find another tribe to join? Or do you think you will find a home in the town? The town will allow anyone to live there."

"I don't know mother," he mumbled.

"I am sure Urlock will change his mind. You could try returning at the beginning of autumn. Extra hands will be needed. He would take you back. He loves you too much to stay angry with you."

Alam did not reply. Instead he stood up and turned around. He wrapped his arms around her as tears rose up, clouding his vision.

"Thank you, Mother. For everything you have done for me every day since you took me in. Yours has been the most important love in my life."

"Stop talking like we will not see each other again."

He kissed her brow and pulled away from her.

"I must say farewell to my friends," he said. She nodded silently and watched him leave.

***

Tajar was waiting outside the tent. The night had reached that quiet hour when time seemed slower. The two friends fell in stride with each other and began meandering through the camp.

"So what will you do tomorrow?" asked Tajar. A frown creased his brows.

"I guess I head north to Lasthome."

"Make sure you follow the river for the first day. Fresh water could be a big problem later on in your journey. You will also be able to fish," advised Tajar.

"Good idea."

"Do you need help packing?"

"No," answered Alam. "I will only take a couple saddle bags as well as the usual gear. It won't take long to be ready."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you in the morning. I'm going to bed now," said Tajar.

"What? But this is our last chance to do something together!"

"Yes. But there is still the morning for goodbyes and I can see that I am not needed where you are walking." Tajar nodded his head towards the tent they were approaching. The Chief's tent. Shaleh's tent. Alam had not consciously headed there but was moving towards it anyway.

Tajar clapped Alam on the back and walked away.

"In the morning then," said Alam.

"If you're lucky," smiled Tajar.

Alam took a deep breath and walked up to the tent. A warm glow and flickering shadows came from within. People were still awake. Five or so paces before reaching the door of the tent it was opened by Urlock, who looked at Alam with a stony face.

"Chief Urlock..." Alam began.

"I knew you would come tonight Alam. Go home," the Chief said firmly, but not unkindly.

"May I speak with Shaleh?"

"No."

Alam thought he heard muffled sobbing from inside the tent.

"Please Chief. I would like to spend a few moments with my friend."

"No Alam. Go home," the older man replied.

"But it is the last night," Alam pleaded.

"Last nights have a way of getting people pregnant."

"No! That's not what I was thinking at all!" protested Alam.

"I believe you when you say that you weren't thinking. In my experience young men usually don't."

"It's not like that! Your daughter is safe with me."

"Even if you keep your word her reputation would be tarnished by walking around with you late at night. She can not afford that so close to her being presented as a bride."

"But nothing will happen!" said Alam.

"True. Nothing will happen because she stays inside tonight and you will spend your final night in our clan in your own bed. Go home."

Alam could tell that there was no changing the older man's mind.

I could push past him.

He would stop me.

I could call out. She would come.

No she wouldn't.

I can return later and make a slit in the tent that she can sneak out of.

Only the lowest of men would destroy someone's shelter for their own selfishness.

***

Alam refused to let himself sleep that night. Once dawn gave enough light to illuminate the tent he started packing his possessions. It did not take long, for he owned little more than a few changes of clothing, a cooking pot, horse tack, flint, leather travelling sack, bedding, his weapons and new armour. Not counting his weapons all his worldly possessions fit snugly into two saddle bags.

"It's not a lot to show for twenty summers," Alam murmured.

"My boy," Khalesar replied, "you are so much more than these trivial things. You also take with you a wealth of love and memories. They are a treasure that no thief can steal."

"Yes," he agreed. "That is true."

He felt a numb sort of detachment as he pushed the tent flap open. Out in the camp everyone was busy preparing to move. Tents were coming down, boxes and sacks were being loaded onto carts and the backs of the small nimble horses that the people of the Plains used.

He helped Khalesar dismantle their tent and load it onto a cart. He then deposited his possessions outside the corral and set off to see Tajar.

"Sorry Alam," Tajar's mother said when he asked her if Tajar was home. "He left early this morning. He is probably collecting the traps for our journey."

"He could have waited," grumbled Alam. "We could have done it together. Please ask him to join me at the corral when he returns."

The woman held his hands kindly.

"Alam. It is possible that he will not return until you are gone. Not everyone is able to say goodbye with grace. Some prefer to simply avoid it."

"Surely not. Tajar and I have been friends forever, and last night he was very calm, not even sad." said Alam.

"Tajar is complicated Alam. He thinks and feels deeply but likes to hide it behind jokes and teases."

"I am sure he will come back in time," muttered Alam as he walked away.

He did not.

***

The camp was packed. The only indication that the clan's tents had once been there were circles of dirt and dead grass. Ropes on the carts were being checked while horses stamping impatiently. Some people had already mounted their horses and were ready to set off. Alam approached the head carts and horses. Shaleh sat straight backed on her compact horse. She was finally alone. Her parents were walking amongst the rest of the Clan, ensuring that everyone was ready to travel. It was the moment he had been watching for all morning. But now that an opportunity had arrived he did not know what he wanted to say. He walked next to her and stroked the mane of her mare.

"Farewell Shaleh."

"Farewell Alam." Her face was grim. She kept her gaze away from his eyes.

"I wish I had more time."

"Me too."

"Then maybe I could have convinced your father to change his mind," said Alam.

"About the banishment?"

"Yes. And other things. Like marrying you off."

Her eyes swung to him.

"Why? What would you do?"

An urgency was kindled in his blood. This was his only chance. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. His eyes locked onto hers.

"I would tell him that you are too good for me but that I would do anything to be worthy of your hand. I would tell him that you are the most wonderful person in the world. I would tell him that even though I have many flaws that I would make you a good husband, that I would bring you happiness like no one else can, and that I would give my life to provide for you and protect you. Not that you need much protection," he finished with a small smile.

"Why do you say this now?" A note of anger mixed with the dampness around her eyes. "It's too late! You should have said this before we went on the raiding trip. It might have meant something then. Now these words do nothing but cause pain."

"I had to tell you my heart."

"But why? Now I will always wonder if you would have been a better husband than the man my father finds for me."

Alam moved closer.

"Come with me," he whispered fiercely. "If not now, then tonight once everyone is asleep. We can meet up and be together forever."

She paused momentarily.

"I can't. Even though it is what I want. More than anything. Last night if you had said this I would have run away with you right then. But now I see that it can't be. If you examine yourself you will see that I'm right. Think of the pain we would cause to others. And my father would send Serik after us. We wouldn't get far. And even if we did we would weaken our clan and expose them to even more danger. I could not live with the shame of that. I do not think you could either. And what of children? How would we protect any children without the help of our friends and family? The Plains are too big and dangerous for us to survive on our own."

"So we just say farewell and forget about each other?"

"Yes, even though I never will," she replied.

"May I at least kiss you to say farewell?"

"You know I can't. People would see, and then talk, and then wonder if there was anything more than just a kiss. It would ruin all chances of me getting a good husband," she sighed.

Alam heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Alam, it is time for you to go," said the chief. His eyes darted from Alam to Shaleh.

"I know Chief Urlock but Tajar is not yet back from collecting his traps. I would like to see him before I leave."

"No. You leave now and must never enter our lands again."

Alam clenched his jaw and willed himself not to cry.

"Farewell," he said.

"Farewell," replied Shaleh.

One final hug from Khalesar, one final wave of farewell to his friends, and it was done. He mounted his large, grey mare and pointed her out of the abandoned camp. She fought the reins but begrudgingly carried him north towards the river and away from the only life he had known. He looked frequently over his shoulder to catch Shaleh's returned glance and to look for Tajar. All too soon he was too far away to make out which dot on the horizon was the woman he loved. The river took a turn and passed behind a long low hill. By the time he came out the other side the only sign of his life among Empa Clan was the cloud of dust that they left behind as they traveled east.

He was alone. The vastness of the The Endless Plains swallowed him.

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-Y. V. Qualls