James glances to Brother Willim who only shrugs. They each return to their blankets and think on what Miko had told them. If James had trouble falling asleep before, it’s nothing like now. Sometime later in the night, he does manage to sink into sleep.

Zyrn stands under the stars at the edge of his village, gazing to the west. Within his village of Abi Salim, there is much celebration. The loot that had been acquired two days ago will go a long way in seeing them through the coming years. Already, plans are being made to send the wagons to the south to sell the weapons and armor at the markets of the larger towns.

But for some, there is no celebration. When they had returned to Abi Salim that first day, a dozen of the younger men had decided to return and collect what had been left behind. They should have been back by this morning at the latest. The fact that they haven’t worries him.

He’s not alone in his vigil, several wives of the young men as well as various other family members stand with him. “What could have happened to them?” one woman asks to no one in particular.

Remembering the ill omen that had streaked through the sky, he has little hope of seeing them again. It was decided that in the morning if the young men haven’t returned, he and several other men would ride out to see if they could find them. Some have supposed the men could have had a wagon wheel break on them, or maybe a horse took lame and they were returning slower than usual. Unwilling to dash their hopes, he keeps his opinions to himself.

Then from out of the desert a movement is seen in the starlight. From its shape it appears to be a man stumbling about. Zyrn and two of the other men rush out toward the approaching man, the women follow right behind.

“Khalim!” cries out one man in recognition. Khalim was one of the young men who had gone to the battlefield and happens to be the man’s son.