Pookie is watching as we stare off ten yards away from each other.
Watching us learn each other.
Watching us learn ourselves.
All the while he is learning us.
The chill of the wind brushes against my skin as the two spread out.
Others come to the edge of the clearing from the west and east.
Slowly the night is filled with the prowlers and risk takers.
Prisoners and free men alike, watch with anticipation.
Ready to act at the most opportune time.
This is the sandbox all over again.
This is what Pookie wanted, but not like this.
He wanted us at the river, where water would become a weapon, just like the sand.
As the scroll keeper I would have been at the largest disadvantage in that terrain.
"We won't hurt you if you hand them over".
"You can come back kid".
"For some of us, this is our last chance".
