11.

Behind the rubble, there’s a single vein of sun leaking through a fissure. A few people cough from lack of oxygen, and from the cinders that encrust the backs of our throats. Faces are covered in a mantle of grey.

Then, like the ray shooting through the rock debris, voices reach us.

“Is anyone in there?” someone yells.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so void of moisture that I’m not sure talking is an option. 

Forcing myself is, however, a necessity.

“Here!” I wheeze. “We’re in here…” My voice catches on the last two words.

It’s enough to garner attention.

The outsiders begin lugging the rocks away one by one. I don’t know how much time passes, but they’re able to clear most of the ruins and get us out.

One of the rescuers is the boy with the wavy hair and aqua-blue eyes.

Malik.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” I choke out.

“You never know what fate has in store,” he says, and hands me a canteen of water. When it hits the back of my throat, I almost spew; the lack of water for the past twenty-four hours has completely dried up my esophagus, thus rejecting anything that’ll change its surface.

He continues. “We’ve found an oasis nearby, unless you want to keep this”—he brushes a finger across my face—“grey suit.”

“No, I definitely don’t want to keep it.”

He smirks. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are your people?” I know I shouldn’t ask because it might still be a touchy subject, but maybe it’s because I do care about the gypsies. They did, after all, save my family and me.

“We’re…holding up.”

I produce a faint smile. “That’s expected.”

Some of Malik’s community has encouraged our group of nomads to trek toward the oasis. They say it’s at least one mile to the north. Doesn’t sound very far, but after being trapped with only dust to inhale, it strains normal body function. Plus, the sun’s heat is worse, if that’s even possible.

The oasis is exactly how I pictured it, though. Minus the palm trees. Since this used to be a forest, there are still some pines left behind, guarding a pool of untainted water. How that happened, I’m not entirely sure.

Green grass puckers from the ground. Water lilies float atop the crystal clear pond. I look at my clothing, how dirty I am, and suddenly feel bad about contaminating it.

Mama carries Mattie to the pool, where she and him both glide into the water, washing away the filth. Others follow.

“Aren’t you going to clean up?” Malik asks.

“Yeah, I guess I could.”

He gently pushes me forward. The water cools the burns from the sun, and washes away the impurities gained over the past two weeks.

After everyone takes a dip, we survey the damage done the day before. Gaping holes now reside in the sides of the mountain that protected us. The endless desert has permanent dimples where stars landed.

“Looks like you guys had a rough time,” Malik says.

“It was one of the worst.”

With the sun on our backs, we begin yet another new journey. We’re lucky no deaths occurred during this stint. Everyone walked away with minor scratches, bruises, and dirt-filled lungs.

“We have more of my people meeting us ahead,” Malik says, pointing toward the boundary.

“Oh?” I squint, attempting to see people who aren’t there. “Where did you go after we last saw you?”

He shrugs. “Nowhere, really. We continued the same way for miles, but there was nothing, so we decided to come back. We found the remainder of abandoned caravans and thought the worst. That’s when one of our men saw the cave.”

“Well, I’m glad you came when you did. None of us had the energy or the guts to move that barricade.”

After at least thirty minutes passes, the gypsies are in sight. Except these aren’t the same people that we met before.

“Totally different clan?” I ask.

Malik nods. “They come from the West, a branch of our people.”

Even the wagons are different. Basic wooden things. But the people look much like Malik’s group, and are eager to help.

Plenty of water and food. We practically gorge ourselves while recuperating. One man to my right thanks another, saying, “I don’t know if we would’ve made it had it not been for you and your people.” He speaks the truth. We might’ve died in that cave.

I watch Mama and Mattie drink water like today’s the last day they’ll ever swallow it.

“Is he okay?” I ask.

“He’s fine,” Mama replies. She strokes Mattie’s untidy hair away from his eyes. “We’re all fine.”

I nod.

After everyone has relaxed, we’re assigned to certain wagons. Some of us have to share them with the gypsies who aren’t driving.

I can’t help it, but after the past two day’s events, I’m beyond exhausted. My body and mind need a break. It seems like I close my eyes for only a few minutes, when I feel the wagon stop. The back door opens, and Malik simply says, “We’re here.”

I groan. “Where?”

“Legora.”