They walked side by side through the encampment. In many ways the collection of tents and the way they were arranged in three overlapping circles, was familiar to Sastra. Displaced from the forests of Milany, it felt comfortable. Even if the palm and olives trees were very different to the lush evergreens, ash and beech trees that filled the landscape of her homeland. The oasis was large enough to comfortably hold the town of canvas, and to offer a small amount of carefully roped off grazing for the horses.
Sastra twisted to look at the animals as they moved within their temporary coral and as if Kivan heard her unspoken question, he answered without prompting.
‘We cannot allow them to eat their fill,’ he explained, ‘the grasses might be needed by the next travellers to move through.’
