“I,” he paused. Wait, how did she know he had lost something? “Nothing,” he said, not wanting to admit that he had lost, no, misplaced their only means of navigation. “Its nothing, I just… can’t find any clean underwear, that’s all.” Wendell almost could have laughed at that, if he weren’t so disappointed with losing the compass. It must have fallen out while we were fighting last night, he thought.

The pirate stood up and started to wander around camp, moving the grass with the toe of his boot as he looked about the place, trying to recall where he had fought the night before.

I had been running, he thought, and looked about the ring of scorched earth, trying to recall which direction he had come from, right before the spiders had attacked.

“Good,” he agreed, “so you will let someone look at you.”

Kes’tral had a point. Who in their right mind would be wandering around the grasslands just waiting to help them. Why wouldn’t she consider turning back? Did she not know how to accept defeat?

“Fight me,” he challenged. “Prove you can fight and I will accept that you are well enough to do so.” Wendell squinted at the woman, knowing her, she still had some spells up her sleeve.

Kes couldn’t help but laugh at his answer. “We both know you ran out of clean underwear over a week ago,” she teased. Everything was better when there was a way to laugh. “I don’t need to see, to tell you that!” She sat down where she had been standing. Without knowing what was lost, she had no way to search it out. She had her legs crossed, hands planted in the dirt and ash. Moving her fingers over the surface and exploring the different textures.

She felt his footsteps as he moved around, half shuffling with his feet. Something small then. But what? With no way to help, she extended her senses instead, exploring the world around them. There was no impending sense of sickness. For now, she hoped that they were safe.

His sudden offer caused her to sit up. Kes scrambled to her feet, dusting off her hands on her trousers. “Alright,” she replied without hesitation. She bent her legs a little, feet shoulder width apart. As she moved, waiting for his attack, she summoned the shoots and seeds beneath their feet. The grass close to the surface and covered so far in ash.

“Joke’s on you,” he said, “I’ve never owned underwear!” Wendell barked a laugh, it wasn’t the truth, but lately, it might as well bed. They had gone so long without stumbling upon any kind of township or village. Of course, they had been able to wash their clothes, though neither of them had a lot to work with.

Kes’tral rose to his challenge, surprising no one. So stubborn, he thought to himself again. Wendell looked about. Was this to be a battle with or without weapons? Everything he owned was lethal, but Kes’tral did have her stick… or what did she call it, a staff? It was a stick. He nodded.

“No weapons then,” he said.

No weapons, he thought. Even with two working eyes, he didn’t trust that Kes’tral would not best him. The pirate waited, the breeze was calm, there would be no way to hide his approach, not with her listening like she was. That was when the idea struck. He slipped off a boot, a slow, cautious smile pulling up the left side of his mouth as he then reached for the other one, silent. Wendell dragged the left boot across the top of the grass beside him, before letting it roll away, the other already airborne, came to land at the woman’s left.

He charged at her right.

Oh dear, Kes regretted accepting the challenge immediately. Wendy was a strong man, and she had seen him fight during her time in the Oathkeeper; he could be merciless and had left more than his fair share of bloodied noses and broken bones in his wake.

She heard movement and twisted to the side. There was a loud thud and the woman dropped to the ground. Not knowing how or when the man would approach, she had decided to attempt a defence instead. At least until she was able to lay hands on him. She rolled to one side, scrambling to her feet.

The pirate had thrown his full force into the lunge, having been so sure he would tag her. Kes’tral had been quick to react to the sounds around her, falling to the ground only to roll out of his way a split second before he would have made contact. The pirate tumbled into the grass, rolling to scramble up onto his feet once more. Like a charging bull, he went for her again, but she had him, had those few precious seconds to listen and figure out which direction he was coming from.

He grabbed at nothing again, thrown into the tall grass. Wendell sat on his hands and knees, peering at his target through the swaying grasses. He stilled, trying to hold his breath, though his heart and lungs betrayed him, burning, calling for air. Wendell laughed, staggering to his feet again. How was it possible he had time or the sense to laugh after everything that had gone on? The fight was forgotten, traded for a game of tag.

The man donned a breathless smile, closing the gap again, this time with more control, this time, without trying to take the woman down. Instead he bent, cautious and slow, wrapping his arms around her thighs to lift her from the ground and throw her over his right shoulder, holding her there.

“Champion!” He crowed, as he strutted around like a prize cock, parading his favourite hen. “Now,” he paused, “just imagine a hundred of those things coming from all different directions.” Wendell hadn’t put the woman down. This was the punishment that came with defiance. “Champion!” He squawked again.

Kes didn’t know if Wendy would ever realise how close he had come to trampling over her. His boots brushed against her back as she dove. Her heart was thudding hard against her chest as she listened and darted again, half skidding across the grasses that remained.

She climbed back to her feet, listening to the frantic thud of Wendy’s heart and couldn’t help but smile. He moved again, but this time he sensed a difference. He wasn’t trying to hurt her and she slowed her own movements, holding still before she was swept up.

Kes couldn’t help but laugh as he crowed. She hit her hands against his back, wriggling in his arms as he spun. “Perfect she grinned and propped her chin in her hand, elbow against his back. “You spin and I’ll throw fire,” it was a plan. It might not have been a good one, but it was a plan.

He paused and she grinned. The shoots of fresh grass had had enough time to rise up from the ground. They curled over his boots and thickener. A few longer strands started to weave gently around the man’s legs. Kes wriggled again, sliding carefully down. She balanced her hands on his chest as she extended her feet, searching for the ground with her toes.

Kes stayed close, his breath brushing against her cheek. His heart thumping beneath her hand. “Champion, eh?” She lent in, as though to press a kiss to his cheek, only to pause before her lips brushed his skin. It was then that she took a quick step back, out of reach. Her vines caught around his legs, holding tight as she turned and sauntered away.

Wendell found himself trapped in the woman’s gaze for a few long seconds. She didn’t see him and yet he sensed that she did. Magic, huh. Kes’tral leaned in and the man found himself rocking back on his heels slightly, bare feet entangled in grass. The woman pulled away and he stilled. Wendell looked down. “Hey, dirty tricks. We agreed no magic… Kes’tral, think of your eyes, we can’t risk making it worse,” he challenged.

The pirate pulled himself free and went to collect up his boots, his feet still not healed after days and days of walking, to no end. The grasslands, just like the desert, seemed to stretch on forever, making it difficult to imagine anything else. Sat in the grass, Wendell gathered his things and closed his bag, the search for his compass forgotten. Now, he only thought about the road ahead and the journey they would face today.

“We best get going then,” he said.

Wendell didn’t wait for a reply, quiet now, lost to his own thoughts as he took the first few steps into the unknown. Without the compass, they were as good as lost. They would never find the boat again, of that he was sure. Perhaps they would never need it.

“You agreed,” Kes retorted, “you agreed and I didn’t disagree.” She kept her back to him, because really what would be the point in turning around? She knew that before her the sun would be rising on a golden day. The grasses would glow with its gentle touch. They whispered to her, filled with life and vitality. She could feel all of their roots stretching down into the rich earth beneath her feet. She could feel the pressure her own feet placed on the softener ground, and Wendy’s too. Birds flew overhead and she could hear their frantic hearts beating fast as they called to each other. The world was alive and even without her eyes, she was lucky to see more of it than most. What she already missed, however, was colour. Forced to imagine the different shades and hues of the sky and Wendy’s eyes.

She heard him sit down and start gathering his belongings. Kes waited for him to stand and begin the journey before she advanced. Her own heavy bag slung over her back. She reached out, resting a hand on his arm.

“I will follow you.”

The man squinted, what did she mean? He shrugged it off. Kes’tral was a mystery. She’s mad, he thought. She’s going to get me killed.

He was determined to get back to the coast, but which way had it been? Whatever way they had come was untraceable, any path in the grass already destroyed by the wind and the amount of spiders that had come for them in the night. What to do, the man wondered.

The pirate walked in a large circle around the camp, one last sweep in the hopes of finding the lost compass. A fruitless attempt. He made a decision and, just as Kes’tral had promised, she followed. Who knew if it was the right one?

Hours and hours of walking was bad enough with vision. He couldn't imagine how Kes’tral felt or what she was experiencing. Once or twice he had closed his eyes to test the sensation, only to trip and almost fall in the grass. He could appreciate now, why she held her hand against his arm, using him as a guide.

It didn't take long for Wendell to catch on, trusting his small warnings were of use, explaining whenever the land rolled away into a steeper hill than others. He told the woman where she sound put her feet, if only to allow her the chance to relax mentally, quieting the need to seek out each step with her magic senses.

All kinds of horrors played on his mind, the thought of running into another mimic the most prominent of these. What would they do if they could not silence it before it was able to call upon the strength of another hoard? He kept extra vigilant, casting his gaze across the horizon every few seconds and glancing behind from time to time.

That thing had found their path and attempted to follow it to its source. They had been fortunate that that direction was the wrong one, it had given the pair a chance to form a plan. Next time, he thought, they might not be so lucky. Mimics, or Chompers, as the dark-haired girl had named them, perhaps aptly, were also able to turn into animals. He could just imagine himself drooling over the sight of a rabbit only to regret it.

“It just goes on,” he said, somewhat defeated by the endlessness of the grasslands of the Bohar Plains. “It just goes on and on…”

Wendell held his hand out to slow the woman to a halt in silence. “We should rest,” he encouraged, crouching down on the edge of a slope. The pirate had a good view from here, though he couldn't see much behind them. Not wanting to be flanked, Wendell shuffled up the hill a little to sit at its peak.

They had no food, but were able to silence their hunger for a spell by gulping at the water in their canteens, which kept their bellies full for a time.

“If you weren’t here,” he said, “and you weren’t on the Oathkeeper… Where would you be, wanderer?”