(A draft, and as such constantly changing, or maybe like life itself, always the same although, never the same)

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‘So what was this life?’ Half sleeping, stooping almost drunkenly on Shadow, his body weaving to the steady rhythm of shadows gait, with his weary eyes following the weaning light cast its purple shadows over the desert. The white remains of animals unknown, polished by the never ending wind and silvery sand, sticking up as silent reminders of time passed. Half buried in the sands of time he though dreamingly, some of them larger than he ever could have imagined. And time, time marching on inexorably in an unending procession of instants, all bringing him back to his loss, shaking him again and again from his uneasy stupor. ‘You’re born, live for a little while and then, suddenly, it’s all over’, the slow sure gait of his four footed comrade creating that steady counterpoint to his thoughts. ‘Nothing, life is nothing’. He idly wondered how this desert had come to be feeling the dunes moving as he looked at them. Becoming mighty cobalt waves, infinitesimally slow traveling towards the horizon, giving him the illusion of them standing still inside an unending moving bowl of death moving out on all sides, with them being the pebble thrown in the pond. And there was also the sands metallic sheen reflecting the sinking sun, making it so hard to judge any distances, dispersing the waning light into reverberating iridescent shimmers. It had its own beauty, this desert had, but it was an eldritch one, not breathing anymore.

As the night finally descended, transforming all into ghostlike shapes, and with the ragged peaks of the mountain range creating a sense of an impenetrable black barrier closing in on them, he found himself sinking deeper into depression. Shadow who had tried to keep up a light banter had finally given up on it as being a bad job, saving his efforts for a better time. At last stopping they decided to camp down, finding themselves unable to navigate any further in the absolute blackness. The few stars that could be seen was so weak and far away that Roland felt as if he were standing on the tip of the universe, looking down the abyss. He had had to grab hold of Shadows mane to stop himself from toppling off as he stared, up in that impenetrable sky. As they were making the final touches for their camp Shadow turned to Roland, watching him digging the last hole for their fire. “Roland, I have a feeling that we better set a watch tonight.” Roland looked up at Shadow standing there in shadows, back in his manlike form, “Why?” he asked feeling a slight curiosity. “Just a feeling my friend,” answered Shadow, having learnt the hard way how his premonitions all to often would have their own bitter reasons, even if unknown as they came. Roland who also had learnt to respect Shadows forebodings nodded thoughtfully. “If you say so Shadow, can you tell from where?” wishing that it might be something good, but knowing that when Shadow spoke of such it mostly just meant more trouble brewing.

Sometimes Shadows bodings could be surprisingly clear, but this time Shadow just shook his head. “I’m not sure, as I said, it’s just a feeling.” Roland looked down at the tunnel connecting the two holes he had dug in the hard packed sand, wiping his brow he stood up. “I’ll take the first watch.” He said at last. “I slept my way through the whole day anyway. Have you noticed how few stars there are?” Shadow studied his friend a little uneasily, he wouldn’t have called that sleeping. Having found himself forced to listen to the low sounds of pain coming from his friend he thought it more belonging to nightmares than sleep. But there was no use discussing and he was tired. It had become very cold as the night had lowered itself upon them, and they were still deep in this weird unending desert having only a mirage as their goal. That mountain range they were traveling towards just seemed to recede the further they came. It was a long time since they had left chartered territories, and they were now traveling into the unknown. The land was hard that way, sometimes it changed shape without anyone, except possibly a dreamer, noticing. There was no way one could be sure on anything as one left human abodes. But he still thought this landscape to be true, he had traveled those other landscapes too and when in those everything seemed to beget a dreamlike quality to it, as if one was dreaming wide awake. Not everyone noticed though, and every year people was lost as they journeyed too far from the beaten tracks. But he wasn’t as sure about those mountains, they worried him more than he wanted to admit. As he looked up he had to admit that the sky seemed different, but when thinking back he found it impossible to pinpoint when the sky had started to change, their travel had been a long and arduous one.

The land life still held was now months away, being kept so by the unending struggle of those waking over it. And every year they seemed to lose some more, so their quest was not only for the sake of lost knowledge, no, more than so it was a search for that place where humans once again would have a chance for survival. As Shadow went into the tent to lay himself down to his uneasy rest he left Roland sitting their first watch by the fire. It threw a surprisingly weak light, hidden as it was in the hole, getting its air from the interconnecting tunnel. But Roland was still careful, not looking directly at it, as he sat there wondering over life. They had known each other since child hood they had, Merry and him, and they had always been together. Would he have changed it if he could have seen into what was to come? “Damn it all.” He muttered dejectedly realizing where his thoughts threatened to take him. He so wanted to meet her again, as he had done yesterday, but no one could steer the weave, at least not without consequences. “That way lies madness.” He muttered to himself as he sat there, looking into the compact blackness just outside his little circle of light.’

He didn’t know what it was that made him first take notice, maybe it was the wind? Suddenly it had disappeared, that light breeze that constantly seemed to blow, night as day. And the darkness seemed to grow, not just an absence of light but now having an presence all of its own. As he had sat there his thoughts had grown constantly morbid, throwing his mind down in a state of dark longings for his lost life and happiness, but now there was something more, like some silent push forcing his mind downwards in a never ending spiral. Connected to it was that feeling as if someone was watching him, and his thoughts, somehow feeding on him. As he slowly forced himself aware of his surrounding it felt as if he was battling something more than just himself, something that didn’t want him to wake at all. ‘Rest’ it seemed to whisper, ‘you deserve it, come, come to me.’ At he at last succeeded to raise himself from his dreamlike stupor and call for Shadow it was as if something lost its grip of him, slithering back into the barren night from where it had came. As Shadow came upon him he suddenly stopped, looking at Roland. “Is there something bothering you?” Shadow asked gently, worrying anew as he noticed his friend’s pained expression. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling beat I guess, I..”

Shadow stoked up the fire, blowing at the glowing coals as he added some new dry sticks they had taken from the beach. “You should get some sleep Roland.” He said quietly as he looked at his friend. “Wait here.” He went in to get some more of the dried soup, mostly vegetables, that they used as their foremost proviso, mixing it with water he poured it into a pan that he hung over the fire, secured by a hook fastened to the top of the tripod, made out of twigs. As he slowly stirred it he studied his friend again, the wrinkles he had thought himself observing earlier was now gone, but the white streaks in his long hair was not. Roland was right, there had been something there he though, but it was his task not Roland’s to watch and protect. Roland’s task was another, what he couldn’t tell, not yet. It was this gift of his that had made him stay with them so long, his gift not allowing him to continue on that search that had been his sole reason for living. And as he had watched Merry and Roland grow up and bond he had slowly, ever so slowly, became to see them as his friends. He who once had thought himself no ones friend, seeing humans like fleeting mirages in the night, ghosts coming and passing by now found himself bound. Bound by friendship but deeper still, by something he couldn’t define and wasn’t really sure he understood

Having warmed the soup he poured it into the two cracked cups they had left, the road was hard on luxuries and he suspected the cups to count as that too. Roland had left most all that was Merry's either in the hut or on that raft they had built for her, just keeping some namesakes, he sighed and giving Roland the larger he sat down to eat watching his friend silently doing the same. They had some old bread to it, almost stale, with cheese. As he sat there watching he thought he could see how the herbs he had mixed into the soup do its work upon his friend. Roland seemed to relax and as he finished Shadow helped him into the tent bedding him down. “Sleep now Roland, and have good dreams.” He said in a low voice as he left him to stand his watch. He thought he knew what had happened here, he had seen it before. There were places where the boarders between what was and what could be became blurred, where reality itself lost track of where it was, and this spot was apparently one. He should have paid more attention he thought, the stars and those strange skeletons would, in hindsight, normally have been a sure giveaway for him, if now he only had been awake. Instead he had allowed his worries over Roland to overcome his natural vigilance, but no more, he promised himself, no more. alking to the very perimeter of light cast by the fire he started to hum, a low unearthly vibrating sound permeating the air, filling it with shimmering energy. After a while he stopped as if waiting for a response, getting a satisfied almost smug expression he softly called. “Come now soulthirster, come here little one, you know me. I command you.” He added something, not made for a human voice, more like a screech than a word and as he made that last syllable the wind calmed down again, the darkness once more growing into substance. Its energy finally unleashed it took the form of a small animal, spiky fur on end, clashing desperately against invisible walls enclosing it while it hatefully stared at Shadow, eyes of blood red pools. At last giving up shrouding itself in a ghostly white mist it lay there, still shivering as it awaited its doom. Shadow, now growing even more forbidding, stared down at the undulating form at last whispering. “And now you find yourself bound to him, is that not so soulthirster? He ate you as you ate him, is that not right?” “Master, could I leave I would. I thought it prey only.” Shadow thoughtfully considered his options as he watched the crouching things submission to his power. "I cannot free you soulthirster, it's not mine choice to make, your own acts have bound you, not me."

He knew that there were reasons to most things happening, for good or bad. They weren’t always understandable, not even for him, but they were still there he thought. “For good or bad soulthirster, you’re bound. But I lay this upon you, to keep your vigilance, and to thread with care. Roland is as bound to you as you to him now, dies he, so will you.” Quietly disturbed by his own words he turned back into the firelight, leaving the small animal covering in the darkness, just out of reach of the light. A soulthirster was bad news indeed, feeding upon life itself, finding it’s nourishment in all living. Mostly they were unable to get free from the weave though, but where bondings were weak and the weave uncertain they strayed free, creating much disruption. It was just their bad fortune to meet one, he thought, first Merry and now this. And that thing had been right, he was indeed a master, or maybe more of a jack of all trades? That was at least what he thought himself, those few times he found himself in need of self examining. His purpose and origin was hidden, even to himself. But this he knew, that he, Roland and that thing now was connected. And what worried him even more was the way it might go, mostly it went only one way, from life to thirst, but sometimes it could go both ways. With Roland, nothing should be taken for granted.