The fire cracked, sending sparks spiraling into the night. The beasts were gone, but no one spoke for a while, still shaken by how close the desert had come to swallowing them whole.
It was the old man who finally broke the silence. He set his kettle carefully over the flames, steam rising with a soft hiss. "You boys look like you've never had real tea."
Kanan gave a shaky laugh, still touching the scar on his leg as if to make sure it was real. "Not tea that can stitch wounds shut."
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no. That was Oorja. This," he lifted the kettle, "is the real medicine."
He poured into cracked clay cups he carried in his pack, handing one to each of them. The smell was rich, earthy, unlike anything the boys had known.
Nilo sniffed suspiciously. "What's in this?"
The old man smiled, his eyes catching the firelight. "Leaves from a mountain you've never seen. Rainwater gathered before dawn. A pinch of desert root, to ground it. Every cup is a place, a memory." He sipped, exhaling deeply, as though he'd been waiting for this moment all day.
Kanan tilted his head. "You travel with… tea?"
"Not just tea," the old man corrected. "Every tea. That is my journey. To drink them all. To taste the world one cup at a time, until there is nothing left unknown to my tongue."
The boys exchanged looks.
"You mean… you're crossing deserts, climbing mountains, fighting off beasts… for tea?" Nilo asked, incredulous.
The old man grinned, leaning back against the sand. "What better reason is there? Some chase gold. Others power. Me? I want to know how the world tastes when it's warm in your hands."
For a moment, the firelight softened the lines on his face. He looked not just old, but timeless, as though he carried a hundred journeys behind those eyes.
The girl sat apart, half in shadow, her blade resting across her knees. Her face was hidden behind the scarf and hood of desert raider cloth, and not once had she lifted it. The boys realized with a start that they didn't even know her name.
Nilo glanced at her, curiosity sparking, but the old man's voice pulled him back.
"You've been tested once already tonight," he said, refilling his cup. "But the desert is not finished. It never is. Tomorrow, the dunes may give you silence… or something hungrier."
Kanan frowned. "And you? Where are you headed after this?"
The old man stirred the fire with a stick, sparks leaping skyward like scattered stars. "Wherever the next leaf grows. Wherever water still remembers the clouds. Until I've tasted every tea the world offers, I'll keep walking."
His words hung in the air, half mad, half profound. The boys didn't quite know what to make of him. But in the flicker of firelight, with the desert night wrapping around them, it was hard not to believe.
The girl shifted slightly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as though she already knew the dangers waiting for them. Silent. Unreadable.
For now, mystery wrapped her tighter than the desert night.
[To Be Continued...]