Birdsong, bellowing oxen and Tochukwu's perennial cursing welcomed Oak into wakefulness. He crawled out of his tent, stretched so hard his joints popped and got started with breakfast. It was a good thing he did. By the time Sadia finished her porridge, Tochukwu's roars for people to get their wagons ready to move had reached a fever pitch and a vein pulsed on the caravan leader's glistening forehead.

On the second day, Tochukwu drove the caravan hard, trying to make up for lost time. There was a limit to how fast you could hurry the oxen along, so the speed of the wagon-train stayed mostly the same. Instead of increasing speed, they barely took a break for lunch and kept on going and going, and going.

The hours stretched under the unrelenting sun, baking the caravan with its radiant rays. Oak whistled as he walked, enjoying the shade provided by the brown wide-brimmed hat he had pulled over his head, and smiled at his own cleverness.

Back in Kesh, Oak had decided that if he could not find a single piece of fitting armor for himself, he could at least shield himself from the harsh glare of the sun. So, he had bought the hat with the widest brim he could find. It was made out of felt and by the Corpse-God, it did its job well.

Watching those without decent headwear suffer in the burning heat made the boredom of walking and occasionally tapping an ox with a stick almost bearable. The scenery was so flat; the sky was so blue and the available conversation so dry that Oak feared he might just lose his grip on the ground and fall into the wild blue yonder, never to return.

He wasn't psychotic enough to wish for rain, but it was a close thing.

Nevertheless, the day provided some interesting sights. Oak was still a stranger in strange lands and much of what the locals found commonplace fascinated him to no end. A pride of lions gathered under a lonely tree watched the wagon-train roll past, lazily swiping away flies with their tails. Oak and Ur-Namma had seen them from afar during their trek away from the shadow of Ma'aseh Merkavah, but they had kept their distance from the big cats.

They looked cute enough, lying on top of each other in the tall grass, but Oak figured each of the adults had to weigh over four hundred pounds. Anything that heavy could be very dangerous, and the big bastards were predators to boot. He had seen them take down a buffalo and didn't want any of that smoke.

Luckily, the lions left the caravan alone. They probably had better things to do than risk their hides against bows and blades, especially when faced with such a vast numerical disadvantage. None of the big cats looked starved for food, but all the people with children eyed them with healthy respect and told their kids to stay close by.

No one went to poke the beasts out of sheer boredom, which Oak found mildly surprising. Well-honed survival instincts kept even the foolhardiest of young men away from grizzly death. He felt a tinge of sadness.

Are there no blushing maidens to impress in this caravan? Has the current generation of boys on the cusp of adulthood lost their courage?

It was all together shameful. If this was a caravan full of his people from the Northlands, there would already be a competition going to see who could get closest to a lion and live to tell of it.

***

It was well past suppertime and dusk was looming on the horizon when the caravan rolled past a perfectly good campground, situated by a pond big enough you could call it a lake, if you squinted. A herd of huge, goofy looking animals with barrel-shaped bodies, rubbery black skin, short stubby feet and an hourglass-shaped skull had taken residence in the pond.

Most of that hourglass shape was reserved for the gigantic mouth of the blubbery beasts. They held a passing resemblance to cows, though Oak had never seen a cow the size of a wagon before, nor did any bovine he had encountered thus far in his life have lower canines longer than his forearms.

Oak was so bored that he went to pester a teamster about the animals.

"Why aren't we stopping here, you ask?" The teamster waved at the funny-looking beasts, like the answer was so self-evident even a small child should have known it. "Can't camp near the river cows. A river cow will kill a man for the fun of it."

"Really?" Oak asked, scratching his beard. "Just like that? They look calm enough to me."

"Oh, believe me, pale man. Those things are a right menace." The teamster spat on the grass and gave the river cows an evil look. "They give ghouls a run for their money in aggressiveness and kill crocodiles for sport."

"Crocodiles?"

"You will learn, pale man. You will learn."

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They traveled twenty-two miles that day. By the time Tochukwu finally gave the sign to stop and set up camp on the bank of a narrow bubbling river, people were so tired they just crashed into the ground from sheer relief. Then they picked themselves up, groaning at the unfairness of it all, and went to brush their oxen, set up their tents and cook some supper.

When folk had completed their essential chores, everyone in the neighbouring wagons got together to make a giant pot of soup for supper. Oak sensed it would be best to join in, lest everyone think him, Ur-Namma and Sadia looked down their noses at the rest of the caravan. It was all too easy to give a poor impression to others without meaning to, and letting such a feeling fester could spell disaster down the road.

That night, Oak got to know some of the people they were traveling with.

Sadia had already introduced herself to Chinweike, the old man who provided the big pot for the soup, and to the man's niece, Ekua, who was a couple of years older than Sadia. She was a short, plump Koromite with silky black hair and a cute button nose. Oak had seen the girls talking and laughing together during the day. They sat next to each other even now, whispering amongst themselves.

"Really? She taught you how to stab people? In the middle of a vigil?" Ekua covered her mouth with her hands, trying desperately not to laugh.

He was happy Sadia had made a friend. Forming social connections as early as possible made it far less likely for people to turn on them for the practice of 'foul sorcery and heresy' when things inevitably went to shit. No one likes to blame themselves for their misfortune, and what do you know? There is a Warlock, a hellhound and a diabolist right there, just waiting for an angry lynch mob to take notice.

To say Oak was a pessimist when it came to people's ability to accept blame for anything at all would have been a vulgar understatement. He should know. He had run from himself for years. Sometimes, Oak felt like he was still running. Still sprinting away from that gallows tree on top of a hill, drenched in drizzle and blood.

A foolish flaw for a foolish man. Fits me like a pair of old boots.

A bowl of food chased away his self-chastising thoughts. Thick lentil soup with some onion, carrots, and cassava mixed in. It tasted like the color brown and left an oily film in Oak's mouth. He devoured it and went to get seconds. Feeling charitable, he got Geezer a bowl as well, even though the hellhound had already eaten.

The dog had more than earned the occasional bout of pampering from him.

Geezer carried the bowl in his teeth under their wagon without spilling a drop, and stayed there for the rest of the evening, guarding his precious treasure and growling at anyone passing by. Since it looked like the hound was enjoying himself, Oak left him to it. It was no skin off his back if Geezer would rather guard the food than eat it.

A Koromite family of five sat close by, enjoying their own bowls of soup. After Oak had dealt with his hunger, he got to talking with the father, who introduced himself as Yakubu Nkruma.

"This lovely woman is my wife, Inyene." Yakubu's smile reached all the way to his brown eyes, and he looked at the woman in question with unmistakable devotion. "As you can see, friend, I am the luckiest man on the face of Creation."

Inyene rolled her hazel eyes, but she looked pleased all the same. Some people in the caravan looked worn down by the miles they had traveled today, but Yakubu's wife was not among them. Inyene was like a beautiful piece of tempered steel. Oak spied sinewy muscle on her arms and a long-knife at her belt.

There was no doubt the woman could use it.

Yakubu himself was no slouch. From the moment Oak had laid eyes on the man, he had guessed him a warrior by his countenance, and he had not guessed wrong. If Inyene was tempered steel, Yakubu was a complementing slab of bronze. The Koromite had broad shoulders, sure hands, and a body chiseled from rock.

When Oak had walked past the Nkruma wagon, he had seen a spear, a shield and a pricy looking composite bow. A pair of warhorses completed the picture. A cavalryman and his family in search of a brighter tomorrow.

Yakubu had to be someone with at least a modicum of status, to afford such a fine pair of beasts.

"My husband exaggerates, as is his right. He is merely the luckiest man on the continent," Inyene said, voice laden with warm mirth. "These three hellions are our children. Our daughters Ekene and Nkechi and our son, Itoro."

The kids waved at him, eyes shining with curiosity. He was likely the first northerner they had seen. Oak judged Ekene and Itoro to be around ten years of age, but he couldn't figure out which of them was older. Both looked mischievous enough to cause no end of trouble. Nkechi was still a toddler, so her small size limited the trouble she could cause.

She probably makes up for it with endless determination and the uncanny guile afforded to all toddlers.

"Your children are wonderful. I suspect you are indeed the luckiest man in Creation, Yakubu, for you have something worth more than any earthly treasure; the love of your woman and the love of your children."

"Oh, you have it all backwards, pale man," Inyene teased, wagging her finger. "If anything, he should be addressed as my man, and I as his sovereign. I own this man from head to toe."

"You know it, woman. You know it." Yakubu chuckled and kissed his wife on the cheek.

In the beginning, Oak had sought discussion for the same reason he was happy Sadia had made a friend; socialising and getting to know his fellow travelers lowered the risk of an angry mob sticking his head on a pike down the line. After a few short moments of conversation, he forgot all of his cunning reasons for seeking it and just enjoyed himself.

Yakubu was quick to laugh and easy to talk to, and his wife proved equally pleasant company. They talked and laughed away the evening under the open sky, with warm soup in their bellies and good cheer in their hearts.

The next day, Oak learned about crocodiles.

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