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In the early morning, before the sun had finished cresting the horizon, Kali stepped out onto the main deck. A single foot outside the cabin and a gust flung her scarf off her ears, the loose ends whipping against her back. Kali’s whiskers drew back, braced against her cheeks with a grimace until the wind died down. The moment it did, she wiped the sandy tears from her eyes and righted her hood, tucking the ends to hold it in place.

The sun, hidden halfway behind the flat, golden expanse, would rise to its full height soon enough. And, despite the breezy day, it would still be hot enough to roast any cat’s ears if they weren’t careful. A mistake many sailors and apprentices had made before, and one Kali didn’t intend to make today.

With her scarf secured, Kali strolled across the sandy deck until she stood beneath the massive, rippling sails of the mainmast, where apprentices always waited for their daily assignments. Slowly, the other apprentices trickled out after her. Most yawning and griping about the encroaching sunrise. Joyana being the most vocal of all of them, as she continued taking full advantage of Cerinnia’s absence. The other Dockies readily agreed with her, mimicking her every bitter sentiment with unnecessary enthusiasm.

It’s so early. It’s so sunny—too hot. Too windy. Too sandy.

All the usual complaints Kali had heard before. Though they had no reason to complain about the early morning. Most of them doubtless slept more than Kali did.

She felt relatively fine, considering her plans of going to bed early didn’t go as intended, and she slept little even after Rinzaan left her hammock. She was too excited to sleep, her tail twitching and rippling for hours after. Her mind stirred up with plans for yet more sultry reunions later. Filled with ideas for lunch, and a couple for dinner, and none of which involved visiting the galley.

And apparently Rinzaan didn’t sleep much, either. He looked far worse than any of the other apprentices or Kali did. The bags under his eyes alone could anchor the ship.

She stared for a moment too long, and he caught her looking. His whiskers were lifted slightly by a subtle smile, but his brown-tipped tail lifted higher than that. A not-so-subtle wave that all the apprentices would have easily seen if they weren’t so busy bemoaning their woeful circumstances.

Kali tried not to laugh as she turned her eyes and ears forward. Swallowing the last of her fitful giggles when Masede finally prowled over. A quick frown replaced Kali’s brief, giddy joy. Unlike most mornings, Masede wasn’t alone this time.

Two toms followed Masede from the cabin. A couple of older sailors with grayed muzzles, who Kali had seen on the Sandstalker plenty of times before. But she couldn’t guess why they were here.

Masede stomped a foot, a sharp smack that dragged even Joyana’s reluctant ears over. After some final whispering from the cats next to Joyana, the apprentices all fell into an attentive silence. One Masede approved with a grunt and a nod. “Pay attention,” he growled, roving a stern glare over each pair of ears and eyes. “We’re doing something a little different today. Most of you mollusks have clung on the hull long enough. It’s time to do some real work.”

Kali had heard this speech before. Usually closer to the end of a sail, when Masede was tired of dealing with the spoiled Dockies. He would assign the most brutal, yet menial tasks to finish weeding out the current lot. Like scrubbing sand off the deck using a hand brush or hauling buckets of spilled sand out of the cargo hold. The sort of jobs that didn’t trouble calloused palms, but left softer Dockie hands with scuffs and splinters.

Though why he gave the speech now, at the start of a sail, was confusing. Yet whatever Masede played at, he was enjoying it far too much. His chest puffed out like a pompous gull and tail curled with a mischievous twist.

“Three sails.” Masede held up three fingers. “We’re on the third for most of you. It’s time to get some sand in your tails.” He flicked his tail, motioning at the two cats behind him. “We’ll pair you up, then you’re setting your own sails.” Masede grinned, his bright white teeth a stark contrast against his black furred muzzle. “You’re taking out the chumriders today.”

Kali’s ears lurched forward, as if they could catch what Masede said long after the words left his muzzle. She couldn’t believe that she heard him right. Maybe the angle of her ears and the whipping breeze confused her.

But, then again, why else would he need the two other sailors? Not to watch them sweep sand or scrub crab traps. Masede wouldn’t take sailors off their normal shift for that.

An optimistic perk lifted Kali’s tail. Maybe she heard Masede right, after all.

Maybe this was finally the day–one she had asked about since she was a kitten. When she first looked over the ship’s railing and saw the skids that balanced them atop the coarse sand. That fateful day, when she saw the smaller boats mounted on them, sails lowered and thick tarps bound over the top.

What were they? Why did their boat have extra boats? Why were they tied up? When would she get to see them?

Then, the first time she saw a chumrider launch onto the sand, another immediate question followed. One Kali asked with the same kitten-like enthusiasm that hoisted her tail high today. When would she get to sail on one?

Masede looked her way with what might seem like a casual glance to the other apprentices. But Kali knew. The glint in his eye, and the smile, was telling. Her tail soared.

This was the day.

“Once I pair you up,” Masede continued, “I’ll tell you which side you’re on. We’ll take you out in pairs.” Masede pointed at the Dockie on Kali’s left and another one, seemingly at random, from the opposite end. “You and you. Port.” Then he picked out another two. “You two. Starboard.”

He picked each pair. Each time, Kali’s breath held fast in her chest. Every time, he overlooked her, but that wasn’t what worried her. Every time, Masede’s clawed finger seemed to hover over Rinzaan, waiting until the last moment to pick someone else. Until there were only four cats left.

Kali stood at one end, and Rinzaan stood at the other.

Kali’s tail curled. Today might be the luckiest day of her life. Her first time sailing a chumrider, possibly with Rinzaan? Even if they had an assigned sailor kitten-sitting, she could still sneak a swipe of her tail or some playful pawing. Her mind raced again at all the mischievous possibilities.

Masede pointed at Kali with the tip of a hooked claw.

“You.”

Kali forced her whiskers and tail down. No smiles. No joy. Nothing to give her away. She kept the excited flicking of her tail hidden behind her legs.

Masede’s hand drifted across the remaining apprentices. Kali’s heart raced faster and faster as he passed over the two cats between them. The pounding in her chest echoed in her ears when Masede pointed at Rinzaan. A trill swelled in her chest, a dizzying elation she could hardly contain.

“You–” Masede scrunched his muzzle. He retracted his extended claw and his eyes darted over to Kali.

She didn’t drop her tail quickly enough. Masede’s whiskers twitched, seeing that quick motion behind Kali, then he scrutinized each of them. A slight curl to his lip as he puzzled. Kali’s hopes plummeted when his arm fell back against his side.

Suddenly, all the joy was gone from Kali’s tail. Replaced with a rampant fear, which made even her whiskers stand on end. Kali lowered her muzzle and stared down at her feet.

She’d seen a look like the one Masede gave her now. The same look on Mikora’s face—on any cat’s face when they caught onto a kitten’s ruse. Which meant only one thing.

He knew.

“You?” Masede scratched the back of an ear. He pointed at Rinzaan. “You’re the one that got sick during that last storm, right?”

“Um, me?” Rinzaan’s ears pivoted away, rumpling his scarf. The remaining two Dockies snickered, and his ears sank lower. “Yeah, um, that was me.”

“I thought so,” Masede muttered. He shook his head. “Not you. I don’t want to scrub your breakfast off the boats. You go to the galley. Have Bomae give you something to do.”

Rinzaan nodded. A visible relief smoothed out his pelt and lifted the tall ears beneath his scarf. A relief that Kali didn’t share, with her muzzle down, both nose and whiskers pointed at the scuffs on the deck.

“That leaves us with an odd number. That’s fine. You go join one of the other groups on port. Kali, you and–” Masede hesitated. He stared, long and hard, before coming up with a name. “Joyana. You two are with me.”

Kali’s ears plummeted. As did Joyana’s, for much similar reasons. “Really?” Joyana scoffed. She looked over her shoulder at the apprentices waiting on the port side, those close enough to hear, and she raised her voice. “Can I go and clean crabs? I’d rather clean crabs than get stuck with weird-eye.”

“Tough luck. There’s only room for one seasick louse in Bomae’s kitchen today.” Masede flashed a snarl at Joyana. “Starboard. Get going.”

Joyana made a show of rolling her eyes and tossing her tail as she spun away. Dramatics that Kali wasn’t sure anyone else saw. The other Dockies had already turned their ears away. All sights set on the sandy horizon as they grumbled about all the sand they’d have to clean out of their fur later.

“You ready for this?”

Kali turned an ear to Masede. Though her tail wasn’t quite as high now, she still nodded. “I’m ready.”

Masede laughed and clapped the back of Kali’s shoulder, knocking her forward a step. “Wasn’t a real question. I know you’re ready for this. Your pelt’s been itching for this since you were old enough to mewl.” He nodded over towards the cats gathered at starboard. “Let’s get going before we lose any tailwind. You’ll really fly today, with the breeze like it is.”

“You think so?” She asked, her tail ascending with a renewed cheer. “Do you think I can dune-skip?”

Masede only laughed. Probably because there weren’t many dunes where the Sandstalker sailed. This particular area they were in was renowned for its smooth sand. Thus why this region of the desert had a rather obvious name. The Flats.

But Kali had seen it before. One of the sailors took a chumrider and flew from the crest of one dune over to the next. And she was determined to do the same, as she hurried over to the ship’s rail and scanned the desert. All she needed was two dunes close enough together. She could do it.

“Eyes over here! Kali, that includes you!”

Kali huffed, frustration she directed at Masede as well as the surrounding sand. She didn’t see any good dunes for a potential hopping. Not close enough to the ship, at least. She might find something past the stern, left in the ship’s wake, if Masede quit ordering her around for two seconds and let her search.

“We’ll go one pair at a time,” Masede announced. “Once we’re on the sand, I’ll go over the rigging and steering. Remember, we’re not doing this for fun. We’ll be expecting each of you to be able to operate one of these. Every sailor has to know how.”

Kali kept a little laugh sealed behind her teeth. She knew this part of the speech, too, and how much of a lie it was. They would never expect a Dockie apprentice to actually sail a chumrider. Too risky. And all the Dockies knew that, too, as they hardly took Masede seriously. Most only listened with half an ear.

“We’ll start with Kali and Joyana first,” Masede said.

Kali’s ears lifted. “First?”

“That’s right.”

Masede stepped through the inattentive apprentices, over to the railing that lined the ship’s deck. With a couple snaps, he unfastened two latches and pulled open a door built into the ship’s rails, breaking the seamless safety that kept sailors from tumbling off the ship.

Masede crouched down, untying the knots that tethered a rope ladder onto the ship’s deck, pausing once to glance at Kali. “Unless you’d rather go last.”

“I’d rather,” Joyana answered.

Masede’s ears flattened at the uninvited response. His claws dug into the ladder, ripping out the last tie. “Rather go without dinner again?” Masede asked, this time directing a sharp look at Joyana. “Is that what you’d prefer?”

Joyana’s tail lashed. Of all the Dockies, she was the last one to miss a meal. And, from some of the complaining Kali overheard on their way to the main deck, she was still sour about missing out on yesterday’s dinner–despite getting a hearty crab cake for breakfast.

When she didn’t answer, Masede straightened up and kicked the ladder off the side of the ship. “If that’s settled, then follow me. But don’t climb down until my feet hit the skid. Wait ‘til then.”

With little other ceremony, Masede hopped over the edge. The ladder smacked against the hull, a sharp clack that flattened everyone’s ears.

“Why do we have to wait?” Joyana asked. “It’s just a ladder.”

“So he can catch you, if you slip,” Kali answered with a polite, if not toothy, smile. “So you don’t fall into the sand and get ground into bits. That’s why.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I knew that, weirdo.”

Kali sighed. Joyana didn’t know anything, clearly. Not even how to do a good job of pretending to be the new Cerinnia. Her tail wasn’t sharp enough for her lashing to have any sting, even when she tried.

She ignored whatever other questions or petty insults Joyana had and peered over the ship’s edge at the skid far below. Masede had safely reached the bottom, and he waved at her. Whatever he shouted was stolen by the wind, but the vague signal reached her all the same. Time to climb.

She didn’t throw herself over the side the way Masede had. Not with the same enthusiasm or flourish. Something about actually looking over the side, past the safety of the railing, was unnerving—unnerving and thrilling, all at once.

Kali swallowed her nerves and crawled over the edge, taking the ladder one rung at a time.

The wind whipping at her clothes, her scarf, as she climbed down on the wobbly ladder. Her ears held up and alert, trained on the audible strain on the ropes and the creaky, rather slippery rungs.

She wasn’t joking before. Masede waited on the skid, tensed and ready to pounce if either of them lost their grip.

Kali didn’t test her luck. She dug her claws in every step until she reached the bottom. Even then, she took Masede’s hand when offered, and she let him help her balance while she got used to the new swaying underfoot. She didn’t feel completely ready when he let go. Her tail still over-corrected with the rise and fall of the ship’s skid.

Then she looked out at the sand. Just with that, all the nervousness swirling through her pelt and tail vanished. Seeing the enormous golden expanse so close, the ripples in the deceptively solid looking surface, the shimmer and glinting flecks of silver, the sheer magnificence of the desert sea stole her breath away.

And now it was her turn, finally her turn, to sail across it.

Kali’s ears turned back, catching the frantic, scrabbling claws when Joyana hit the skid. Not as graceful a landing, with her claws digging into Masede’s arm, clinging like her life depended on him, and her tail pinwheeling, but Kali was surprised nonetheless. She hadn’t expected any of the Dockies to actually climb down onto the skid—especially not Joyana.

If Masede was surprised, he did a decent job of hiding it. He led Joyana a few steps in, a safe distance from the edge, then plucked her claws off his sleeve. “Alright. You stay here,” he said. “Kali and I will get the boat loose.”

Masede motioned with a brisk wave. Kali hopped after him, following the few short steps over to the chumrider.

It was a bigger boat than she expected, now that she was up close. From the main deck, and even from the boardwalk, they always looked so small. Little bigger than some of the two or three cat canoes they used for repairing scrapes or cracks in the hull. But this wasn’t something that could be pushed with a paddle. It had to be big enough for at least four cats, front to back.

“We’ll get the tarp off,” Masede said. “It’s a simple hitch. Just pull here.”

Kali nodded. She watched Masede loosen the first two knots, then crouched and started working alongside. Though she wasn’t as quick as he was. Her eyes continually drifted over her shoulder to where Joyana stood and picked at her claws.

“Do we really have to bring her?” Kali asked, lowering her voice below the sand’s rasp.

“What? You’d rather bring your boyfriend?”

Kali’s hands froze. Claws hooked into the rope, the knot half undone. She sighed through her teeth. “No,” she said. “It just seems pointless. None of them really care.”

Masede shrugged. “They signed up for an apprenticeship. They’re getting what they paid for.” Masede nodded at the rope in Kali’s claws. “Are you going to finish that?”

“I’m working on it,” Kali muttered. She yanked the rope, as she had the others, and the knot loosened. Masede grabbed the tarp. He rolled it back, stepping into the boat as he did, and fastened it to the far end. Kali stayed crouched where she was, her tail flicking. She glanced at Joyana, making sure her ears weren’t on them. Which, of course, they weren't, as she was far too busy picking bits of sand out of her fur. “Who told you, anyway?” Kali asked. “Ziya?”

“Bomae.”

Kali chirped. “Bomae?”

Masede let out a rumbling laugh. “You should know better. Nothing gets past her. Can’t be so loose with your tail in the galley.”

Embarrassment burned in Kali’s ears, simmering underneath her scarf. Now that he mentioned it, it seemed so obvious. Of course, Bomae would notice the swishes of her tail and bats of a paw. And if Bomae knew, then she had probably told everyone else on the ship, too.

But one thought, in particular, worried at Kali’s fur in particular. She licked her lips, grimacing at the sandy, metallic taste. “Bomae told you? So Ziya didn’t mention it?”

“Captain has more important things to do.” Masede answered without even turning an ear to Kali. His attention stayed on the tarp while he finished tying down the opposite end. “Besides, you’re not the first. You might think you are, but you’re not. Can’t count on my claws how many times I’ve found apprentices fooling around.”

With the tarp secured, confirmed by a few pulls and kicks, Masede rose, growling as he stretched his legs, and turned back to Joyana. “Joyana!” He called over, raising his voice over the wind and sand. “You can get on board!”

“Is it safe?” She called back.

“Safer than standing over there.”

That was more than enough convincing for Joyana. She moved towards the chumrider, taking slow, careful steps over. When she reached it, she toed her way in, testing the bottom with her weight before easing on like she was afraid the wood might split underneath her.

“So, how did she find out?” Kali asked. “About Nazhir? Didn’t Mikora tell her?”

“No, she learned about that from a couple of the crew.” Masede waved Kali over again. He grabbed onto the mast and jerked his chin. Kali followed his lead again and helped haul the slim mast upright. One steady shove and it was up. The base snapped into place, and Masede shoved a steel rod through, locking it upright. “Why? Was that the same Dockie?”

Kali’s ears twitched. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Masede seemed to confirm his own suspicions. “I see. Well, Captain either didn’t hear or didn’t mention that part. Besides, a sailor fighting a former Mjauzi? That’s a story that’ll get around,” Masede continued. “And she was more concerned about that than whatever Dockie was involved. Captain was peeved when she found out, to say the least.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“At least she didn’t spill blood on the boardwalk again. Pretty messy last time. ‘Mere, I think it was a different guy from the Duneprowler, too.” Masede shook his head. “You’d think they’d learn better. Mikora really isn’t one to mess with. If it’s not her claws at your throat, then it’s Ziya’s.”

Kali smirked. He wasn’t wrong. “I wouldn’t really want to fight either of them.”

“Me neither.” Masede grabbed the mast and tugged down a wooden rod, which he locked into place at chest height with a thick metal pin. He tested it, a push and pull, making sure it didn’t flex or strain before moving on. Then he tapped his claws on a rope, which was hooked onto the floor. “This is the line for the sail. As soon as it’s open, we start flying.”

“Flying?” Joyana piped up.

“Figuratively,” Masede assured her. He turned away, to the front of the chumrider, and pointed at a knot. “That’s the last tether to the skid. Best practice is to take the sail line, then loosen the ship tie, so you drop the sail and hit the sand at the same time. That way, the ship can’t roll us and dump us overboard–”

“It can do that?”

Masede's ears flattened, and he looked back at Joyana with a sigh. “Just let me finish. Then ask your questions. We’ll get to it.” Masede huffed, and he turned to Kali again, ignoring her smart, I-told-you-so grin. “I’ll ask for the last time,” he said. “Are you ready?”

There was a finality to that question, one that Kali didn’t hear before. Her fur prickled the longer she dwelled on it. A nervous bristling beneath her scarf, her sleeves, as her fur rose, but it was excitement as much as it was fear. She looked up at the slim mast overhead, and the triangular sail that was folded upright. A different sail and rig than the Sandstalker’s. A different beast than the ship she was used to. Far more unruly, and far closer to the coarse sandy sea, which could easily strip her fur and flesh off her bones if she fell in.

Yet she still grinned, still held her tail high. Thrilled at the challenge put in front of her. This was a moment she’d waited so long for. Kali answered, adding a vigorous, whisker-bouncing nod. “I’m so ready.”

“Then grab the line,” Masede said. “Have at it.”

She didn’t need further prompting. Kali grabbed the sail’s line, unwrapping the end from the steel hook on the floor. It took less effort than expected to keep the line taut. However the pulleys were arranged, they did their job.

Kali strode to the front and looked at Masede, who reassured her with one last nod. Then she tugged the knot free and let the line slide through her fingers.

The sail dropped. Flying open with a snap, as the wind sank its teeth into the fabric. The chumrider skipped backwards, grating across the skid before falling into the sand behind, sending a spray of grit up into the air. Kali’s feet briefly left the ground. A terrible, fleeting sensation, followed by a heavy thud as she fell on the floor.

Masede’s booming laughter rose over the strong breeze and fluttering sail. He snatched up the billowing line and wrapped the end over the hook again. “Forgot to mention the drop,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Well, there’s always next time.”

Kali groaned as she rolled over and got her feet under her. She clawed her way up the mast until she was standing again with a fresh ache in her tail. “Thanks for the warning.” She looked to the stern, half expecting Joyana to have flown out, but Joyana was still there. Fallen over in her seat, with her claws clinging desperately onto the edge of the chumrider. Her slim tortoiseshell tail puffed and panicked.

“Next time,” Masede said, “Grab onto the ship when you drop the sail.”

“You could’ve mentioned that.”

“You get used to these things, and you forget. It happens. But look–” Masede swept a hand over the side of the chumrider.

Kali turned around. The Sandstalker steadily drifted farther and farther ahead of them. Carried on a different breeze than what Kali felt at her whiskers.

She was out on the sand. For the first time, Kali was on a chumrider, sailing on the desert sea on her own.

Or relatively on her own, since Joyana was along for the ride, and Masede was there to instruct her. As alone as any apprentice could be for their first excursion on a chumrider.

Kali took a short breath, intending to savor the moment, but was interrupted by sand flying up her nose and scratching the back of her throat. She grimaced and tugged her scarf up over her muzzle. There was certainly more sand kicked up when sailing a smaller vessel. As annoying and fussy as the Dockies were, they weren’t wrong about that part.

She turned back to Masede, who waited with one hand resting on the chest-high bar. He nodded and took a step back, and Kali took his place. She flexed her claws and wrapped her hands around the steering bar. Surprised by the weight she felt pushing against her already, when she took over.

“Go easy, until you get a feel for it,” Masede said, as he took a seat in the back. “Other than that, it’s all yours.”

“Wait, is she steering this thing?” Joyana asked, her fluffed tail whipping.

“You’ll get your turn later,” Masede said. He nodded at Kali. “Like I said. It’s all yours.”

Kali flexed her claws, kneading into the steering. She took a slow breath, lifting her covered muzzle up level with the ship, with the sand all around them. She eased left, letting the sail twist as it wanted. The boat turned. A slow, easy pivot away from the wind, away from the Sandstalker. The wind whistled at Kali’s ears and the sand hissed as they sailed across. The chumrider raced through the smooth surface, leaving a rippling trail in their wake.

She could feel it. The more she moved with the sail, she could tell how the boat sailed. Easing into the different, turbulent winds that tickled the ends of her whiskers, that could take her to all the far corners of the desert if she wanted. To the farthest corners of the world, on a breezy day like today.

Kali turned back an ear to rampant spitting and gagging. Her brief flight into fantasy was brought to an end by Joyana, who sounded like she swallowed a bucket of sand, and Masede, who was trying to teach her how to cover her muzzle with her scarf.

Not exactly the peaceful first sailing on a chumrider Kali had in mind.

“You’ll be fine,” Masede said. “Just hold it there until we get back.” He stepped forward, leaving Joyana clutching her scarf over her face, and ducked underneath the sail. “Got a feel for it?”

“I think so,” Kali answered, a slight frown dipping her whiskers. “But it’s not as fast as I was hoping.”

“You want to go faster?” Joyana asked, her voice hitching. “You can’t be serious!”

“Again,” Kali sighed. “Did we have to bring her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joyana growled.

“It means you’re annoying.”

Masede loudly cleared his throat. “We’re here to sail,” he said, with a pointed glare at Kali. “Not argue. So keep the grievances for the shore. Unless someone wants another visit to the captain’s office. Kali?”

Kali’s ears flattened. She could already see Tulaziya’s scowl in her mind. Especially after Kali had already been warned. “Okay, Masede–”

“Bosun.”

“Bosun Masede.” Kali huffed. She leaned into the sail, bringing them over another low crest and back into view of the distant Sandstalker. Not enough of a dune for jumping–or even a little skip.

“Good.” A little victory that Masede celebrated with an upward flick of his tail. He crossed the boat, over to where Kali stood, and pointed up at the sail. “Now, for going faster, it’s an easy trick. Sail with the wind until you get the speed you want. Then steer where you need to go.”

“But won’t I lose speed?”

“Not enough to matter,” Masede assured her. “As long as there’s no sharks on our tails.”

“Wait, what’s that?”

Whatever else Masede had to teach her was, yet again, interrupted by Joyana, who couldn’t seem to sit quietly for two seconds. She clutched her flapping scarf against her muzzle with one hand, and the other stretched over the side and pointed across the sand.

Kali hissed her frustration. “If this is a shark joke,” she snapped back. “It’s not funny.”

“No, I’m serious! What is that?”

Kali turned around, her tail lashing. She followed Joyana’s arm to the tip of her finger, which pointed at some indeterminate point–or so Kali thought. She squinted against the blinding light reflected on the golden sand.

Sure enough, there was a dark speck among the dunes.

“Kali, take a seat,” Masede said.

Kali stayed where she was, staring across the desert, transfixed by that singular speck. A foreboding chill spread across her fur, despite the hot, sunny morning. Before she realized it, Masede had pried the steering bar from her hands and nudged her aside.

“That’s not, like, a shark, is it?” Joyana asked.

Kali held a hand over her eyes, still straining to see. Rather than try to watch the speck, she watched the sand instead.

There were three signs to watch for. First was shifting or traveling dunes. Unnatural movement of the desert sand, like a large wave moving across the surface. Second was breaks or breaches in the sand, where fins broke the solid golden surface. The third–there wasn’t really a third. The third was the sound, a sky piercing shriek. But, as every sailor knew, by the time anyone heard a shark, it was too late.

But the sand wasn’t moving. Not like there was something under it. And the speck didn’t seem to leave any sort of trail, like it was cutting through the sea. Kali scrunched her muzzle. “What is that?” She asked, echoing Joyana’s sentiments. “Is that a ship?”

“Too small,” Masede answered. “If it was, it’d be a dinghy. Might be another chumrider.”

Kali’s ears perked underneath her scarf. The wind hadn’t died down, but the swift pace of their boat had dwindled. Masede had turned the sail in line with the wind, letting the sand bring them to a stop. Masede hesitated, the tips of his claws tapping on the steering bar as he thought. Which wasn’t very reassuring.

“Are we about to get attacked?” Joyana asked, dropping her voice to a whisper as she leaned in towards Kali. “Is it a shark?”

“It doesn’t look like one,” Kali said. “I don’t think.”

“Have you seen a shark before?”

“Once. But it wasn’t swimming under the sand. It was looping around in the distance. Like–” Kali waved her hands, struggling to pantomime what she described. “Like a thread going in and out of fabric.”

“Like what?”

“You know. Like a seam–” Kali peeled her eyes off the desert. She looked at Joyana, who still seemed completely befuddled. “Right. You’ve never sewn anything before, have you?”

“Why would I?” Joyana scrunched her muzzle. “The tailors sew all my clothes.”

“Of course they do.” Kali sighed. She looked at the desert again. The specks, which were once so distant, seemed larger now.

“Ah-ha!”

Kali and Joyana both jumped in their seats. Though Kali’s tail quickly smoothed, when Masede laughed. “Nothing to worry about,” he called back to them, as he turned the sail back into the breeze. “Not a shark or ship. They’re Mjauzi.”

“Mjauzi? Here?” Kali twisted in her seat, stumbling over to the side of the boat. She dug in her claws, anchoring her grip to the edge, and watched as they approached. The two slim figures came better into view. Faint silhouettes of legs and antlers along with the riders on their backs. Mjauzi for certain.

She couldn’t tell who it was, past the sandy spray the boat kicked up. Not until they were close enough that Masede turned the sail and brought their boat to a stop again.

Her whiskers lifted, seeing dark scales underneath the layer of dust. Grynkeel sprinted easily across the sand’s surface, feet planting with each step like the shifting ground were as solid as stone. Behind him, a Bryburkel with ruddy red scales followed. One Kali didn’t see as frequently–Enzaden. Shorter than Grynkeel, with dull red scales and a dark brown mane, their skull carved with simple angular lines that fanned across their boney cheeks. And if Grynkeel and Enzaden were here, that meant Darshan and Symas were with them.

Grynkeel slowed as they neared, a long hiss once Darshan brought them alongside the chumrider. He pulled his scarf down from his muzzle and tossed his tail once to Masede.

“Mjauzi Darshan,” Masede said, with a returned flip of his tail. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it? We don’t see you around these sands often.”

“You don’t,” Darshan agreed. “There’s usually no reason to scout here.”

Masede’s broad grin faded at the edges. “And there’s a reason today?”

Darshan answered with a curt nod. A nod, and seemingly nothing else, as his attention turned back to the sea.

Enzaden took a couple steps forward at a couple prompting clicks. Their rider pulled his scarf back of his ears and brushed some of the sand off his brown striped fur. “We’re on a hunt,” Symas answered. “We’re following Touzimi.”

“Touzimi?” Masede asked, the corners of his muzzles dipping further, now perplexed. “The actual Touzimi? Here?”

Joyana leaned forward, hovering her nose near Kali’s ear. “Touzimi?” Joyana whispered. “What’s a Touzimi?”

Kali shushed her with a quick hiss. Now wasn’t the time to answer dumb questions. She turned away from Joyana only to find Symas looking at her, a broad grin on his sandy muzzle. “I recognize that hiss–and those eyes any day! Kali, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Kali’s ears skewed. After a brief, uncomfortable silence, she answered, “Likewise, I guess.”

She didn’t know what else to say. The first time they met, Symas had snuck up on her and Mikora. In the middle of stringing a bow, he leaped out from behind them.

Mikora laughed it off at the time, but Kali didn’t. The string snapped from her fingers, when she was so close to setting it in place, and it nearly slashed her toes. So when Symas greeted them with a friendly bounce of his tail, Kali offered up a nasty, tail-shriveling hiss instead.

Or so Mikora claimed. It wasn’t something Kali recalled well, probably because she was scared out of her fur at the time.

But, despite the several years that had passed, apparently Symas still remembered like it was yesterday.

“Symas, stay on task.”

Symas’s ears lowered, easily humbled by a reprimand from the lead Mjauzi. He said nothing else and turned Enzaden to watch the sand behind them.

Darshan, satisfied, turned to Masede again. “Are you the only ones sailing here?” he asked.

“No, we’ve got another chumrider sailing port-side. Apprentice training and such. And of course–” Masede waved over at the Sandstalker, which still coasted across the desert.

Darshan nodded, seeming to do so to himself rather than to Masede, as if he confirmed something. “I need to speak with your captain. Symas–”

“I’ll grab the other boat.” Symas answered. “I’ll meet you on board later.” He nudged Enzaden forward, who reluctantly started moving their talons across the sand again. He paused near Kali, bobbing his tail. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Likewise.” Kali grimaced. Again, she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Symas tugged his hood back over his ears, and, with two taps on Enzaden’s shoulder, the Bryburkel pushed off. They ran, a red blur as they circled the ship.

“I’ll see you back to your ship,” Darshan said.

Masede nodded. He shifted the sail into the wind again, guiding them back towards the Sandstalker. Grynkeel kept pace, trotting a few steps behind their sandy wake.

“Kali. Psst.”

Kali almost rolled her eyes. But, with Darshan nearby, she managed to keep her gaze level as she turned to Joyana again. “What?” Kali asked.

“What’s a Touzimi?”

“It’s a shark–” Kali hesitated, seeing fear flash across Joyana’s face. Realizing, already, that she might’ve said too much. And she hadn’t even said the worst part yet.

Touzimi wasn’t just any shark. Not if the shanties were to be believed.

“It’s a shark,” Masede called over to them. “But we don’t see them around here. Sharks don’t swim in the desert flats. Something about the sand here doesn’t let them move how they want.”

“So there’s no shark?”

“No shark,” Masede said. “They’re just being cautious, I’m sure.”

That smoothed Joyana’s tail, but her inquisitive eyes returned to Kali. “You know a Mjauzi?”

“I mean, yeah?” Kali shrugged. “Mikora knows them. She used to be a Mjauzi and everything. And I’m training with them–so, yeah.”

“That’s so cool.”

Kali’s whiskers jumped. A sudden grin overtook her muzzle, stopping short of a laugh. She looked out over the sand, trying her best to stay composed. Darshan was riding on their tail, and he was definitely within earshot. Still, Kali couldn’t help herself. “You can’t really say stuff like that, you know.”

“What can’t I say?” Joyana asked.

“Anything that sounds remotely like a compliment?” Kali said. “You can’t say anything nice to me, you know. Not if you want to be the new Cerinnia.”

Joyana’s ears flattened, and she straightened up in her seat, reeling at the accusation. “What? Who says I want to be a new Cerinnia?” she scoffed. “Please.”

“I’m just saying–”

“You don’t have to say anything, weird-eye. Ugh,” Joyana drawled. “Stop looking at me with that weird-eye. It’s weird.”

Kali rolled her eyes, but she didn’t bother saying anything else. Joyana’s insults still needed work. They really didn’t have the same bite.

But rather than listen to Joyana, who had started spitting again when their boat crashed through a crest of sand, Kali looked over at Darshan. She’d only seen a Mjauzi riding across the sand once–twice including now–and Mikora had told her something that day, which she remembered well.

If the Mjauzi, whoever it was, Darshan or even old Jorian, if they weren’t worried, then there wasn’t anything to worry about.

But, if the Mjauzi was worried? If they looked out across the sea with a hand on their bow, stashed on the Bryburkel’s saddle, as if ready to draw at a moment’s notice, only then was there something to worry about.

And the way Darshan looked now, with his claws tensed on his bow? He didn’t seem like he was out for a joyride with Grynkeel. That was all Kali needed to know, as she faced forward and swallowed the lump in her throat.

There was something to worry about. And, if what Symas said was true, if what the old shanties and stories were true, then trouble brewed beneath the sand’s deceptively placid surface.

If Touzimi, the spawn of nightmares, was really there, lurking beneath the desert flats, then none of them were safe.