"It is just you and me girl," Alam said patting the neck of the tall grey mare. "What you need is a name. I can't just call you 'girl'."

Alam slid off her back and approached her head. She waved it angrily as if trying to head-but him and stamped the ground in protest. Alam yanked the bridle down.

"Stop it!" he scolded her. "I know you want your old master but you can't have him. He's dead. You're going to have to get used to me now."

She whinnied and shook her head.

"You're a grumpy one... but magnificent," he said as he stroked her shoulders. The horse shook her smokey grey mane, but allowed him to pat her. "What is a good name for a light grey girl like you? Tempest?"

The horse refused to answer.

"Storm? What do you think of Storm?"

Silence.

"My mother told me to be careful with names, because people can become the name and not the other way around. It's asking for trouble to call you Tempest or Storm. What about Cloud? Do you like Cloud?"

The horse snorted and bent down to pull a mouthful of the long grass they were standing on.

"Is that a no? Not Cloud? As you wish... What about Mist?"

The horse raised its head and looked at Alam while chewing a mouthful of grass.

"You like it? Me too. 'Mist'. It feels feminine, and you are a beautiful girl."

Alam put his foot in the stirrup and lightly swung himself into the saddle.

"Alright Mist. We may not know each other yet but we do have some things in common - you are missing your old master, I am missing my friends, and we are both alone in the world. But there is nothing we can do about that now so let's head upstream and see what the day brings us."

***

The first day of banishment passed by miserably and slowly. The sun made its imperceivable, yet unstopping, arch across the sky. The river gurgled impatiently as it raced southward past him; the wind whistled as it blew waves through the long grass; birds playfully danced over head; otherwise, the only sound in the world was the steady one-two three-four rhythm of Mist's hooves.

The sun was setting and turning the sky orange when Alam saw smoke. A thin line rose ahead. It was still too far away to see its source.

Looks like a campfire.

He pulled his axe out and laid it across his lap. His eyes scanned left and right. He saw no sign of people.

We're still in Empa land but the Clan has moved east. Dargu?

"I don't like the look of this, Mist," he said. "Do we go around or take a closer look?"

Mist chose not to respond

"I guess we take a closer look. If it is someone friendly they will not harm us and if it is an enemy we can warn the Clan... Providing they don't kill me first."

Alam considered tethering Mist to a riverside tree and sneaking up to the fire but in the end decided that if things went badly it would be better to be in the saddle. Nevertheless his heart was drumming in his chest as he slowly approached the fire.

There was no-one there. A horse was tethered nearby, a pack was discarded on the ground and a rabbit was cooking over the fire, but the camp was otherwise empty.

"It's about time!" shouted a voice to the right. Alam startled and swung his torso around, axe ready. Tajar hopped up from behind a tussock of long grass. As he did so he relaxed the bow in his hands and removed the arrow from its string.

"Tajar! What are you doing here?" shouted Alam.

"Waiting for you, of course."

"This is stupid! You'll be banished if you come with me!" said Alam.

"That's what is so clever about it," counted Tajar. "To banish someone they have to be told that they are banished. Chief Urlock has not banished me at all. I am still a noble member of Empa Clan. You on the other hand are a lost cause. A filthy exile. If you turn around and try to return to the Clan my noble clan blood will force me to kill you."

"There is no way you could kill me," smiled Alam.

"There is no way you could stop me," returned Tajar.

"Well, even though your clever idea is pretty stupid, I'm still glad to see you."

"Good. Now it is time to be quiet while I eat my dinner. My rabbit smells like it is starting to char." He took it off the fire. "No. I was wrong. It's perfect. Juicy and cooked just right. What food did you bring with you?"

"I have some travel bread and Khalesar gave me a skin full of mare's milk."

"Well you enjoy that. I know I will enjoy mine," said Tajar as he ripped into the meat.

***

The next day was eventless. After catching three decent fish at first light the two young men saddled up and rode along the riverside through the day, pausing to rest the horses during the hottest hours. Throughout the day deep bouts of sullenness overwhelmed Alam as he considered all that he had left behind. When the golden light of pre-dusk came Tajar set his traps again and tried without luck to catch more fish while Alam prepared the camp and cooked the morning's fish on hot rocks out of the fire. There was a beauty and stillness sitting near the gurgling river and eating their simple meal that calmed Alam's troubled heart.

"We should set a watch tonight," said Alam as he picked fish bones out of his mouth.

"If you wish," said Tajar lazily laying back. "The dargu live a whole day's march from here. It's unlikely they are roaming around here. And if they are, they still have to cross the river. I think we'll be safe tonight."

"Yes, probably, but I would prefer to set watch anyway. You are clearly too lazy to be of any use," smiled Alam as he kicked Tajar's feet. "You go to sleep. I'll wake you when it is your turn."

"Take your time," said Tajar as he closed his eyes, "I'm not in any hurry."

Alam groomed Mist, softly sang to himself, and tickled for eels along the side of the river bank to pass the time. Sunset turned to stars. The stillness of the night made the stillness of the day seem like a busy market. After a number of hours that stillness made him drowsy. He roused Tajar.

"Your turn," he said.

"Fine," grunted Tajar.

Alam put his back to the fire and pulled his woolen blanket over himself.

The valley was familiar but the walls of stone on either side were sheer and unimaginably high. The veteran was next to him, but the veteran was also Tajar. He was riding Mist. Tajar the veteran was telling Alam that Mist was not a normal horse. She was a special breed. Bred for the slaying of sorcerers. Suddenly the sorcerer was before them, purple energy growing in his hands. Alam threw his axe and in an instant blood was everywhere, staining everything.

Alam was startled out of sleep by a woman's voice.

"The legendary hospitality of the Plains peoples would appear to be a lie." The fire was down to embers. Alam could see very little but his hands found his axe by his side instantly. He staggered to his knees, shaking drowsiness away. Next to him Tajar was jumping up as well.

"Tajar! Were you sleeping?" shouted Alam.

He had the good grace not to answer. Across the embers stood a woman. It was impossible to see any details about her in the dim red light but her weaponless hands were held harmlessly in front of her.

"Who are you?" demanded Alam while Tajar spun around looking for others who might be with her.

"I can't see anyone else," whispered Tajar.

"If you put more wood on the fire it might be easier to see and thus we could converse without fear," the woman suggested.

"What cause do you have to fear?" asked Alam.

"I have none," she answered. "But your axe and bow indicate that you feel otherwise. I have seen frightened men before."

"What does that mean?" asked Tajar.

"It means that you should put more wood on the fire," she said bending down and softly placing leaves followed by twigs and branches onto the embers. As the flames jumped up, hungrily consuming the new wood, both Alam and Tajar drew in a short breath of surprise. She was the most exquisite woman either of them could have possibly imagined. The golden light from the fire made it hard to tell if her skin was tanned or coppery brown, either way her complexion was flawless, and her features were perfection itself. She wore a modest and simply cut dress of light blue material that somehow sparkled as the firelight played against it. Her ebony hair was draped down her back and cascaded over her shoulders. She wore no jewelry or adornments of any kind. She needed none. Alam felt an overwhelming attraction that he had never felt before. Shaleh was gone from his mind. The woman lifted up her head and gracefully rose. The light danced on her dress, hugging her figure. The dress did not need to be provocative, nor did she have to assume a simpering pose. Simply standing up was completely absorbing for Alam. But what arrested his attention foremost was her eyes. They were so blue they seemed as glowing sapphires.

"That is better," she said.

Yes it is.

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-Y. V. Qualls