On The River
The dismal gray sky teased the land with hints of rain, but there was no moisture in the air, no real promise just a false hope. It was cold but dry—dry as a Sethian summer. Rahg shivered as he woke, then hurried to the fire Tobias had started. He rubbed stiff fingers together and bent to let them touch a taste of the flames dancing off the sides of Tobias's pot, near to boiling with hot khaffe.
The aroma of the khaffe and biscuits stirred Rahg to excitement, and he licked his lips. There were people at the last village who might have killed for biscuits or any food. Tomkins sat on a rock next to Tobias, who was still filling him with tales of adventure. "Have you been telling stories all night, Tobias? Give Tomkins' ears a rest."
Tomkins looked up at Rahg for a moment but
