"Let's move, people." 

The caravan reloads and pushes on, wary of any further attack. 

It is a game of cat and mouse, to some extent; the gnolls maneuver, trying to take the caravan by surprise, but they have no mounts and a highly-carnivorous metabolism that cannot maintain the steady pace of the caravan over many hours. Slowly, inexorably, they fall behind. 

Layla fords the Crook at a crossing she knows, and sets a double watch at night. If any gnolls come out of the desert they'll have to cross the river to get to her people.

They don't try it.

She wakes the camp as early as she can stand and forced-marches her people through the desert. They eat on the move of what supplies can be handed out down the line. Everyone is hungry. Everyone is tired. But they all know that if they fight again, they may not win a second time. 

It wears.

Fayruz sings an old traveler's song, leading the group in familiar harmony. She knows they must press on. She has seen people die for less.

The wind comes up, after a little while, and the song dies. They slog on through the sand and do their best to move. The camels haven't eaten or drunk. 

Nonetheless, it's move or die.

They camp again as late as Layla dares for a second night in the darkness. 

The gnolls don't catch up.

Just one more day to Tephu. 

Layla lets them stop for lunch after the morning's moving. The caravan naps in the heat of the day, with the sweltering sun beating down on their bedrolls. There's no point in pitching tents when they'd have to be taken down again in a few hours. 

The mood in the caravan is brighter, now. It feels like they've outrun the gnolls. They're safe now. They should be, at least. 

Rana makes water, and they eat proper koshari again. 

She doesn't make any alcohol though. The mood is still too somber to celebrate. Hayat has a new scar, and Yasmin is flagging behind because she can barely sleep. They're deeply lucky to not have lost anyone.

"Would anyone like to hear a story over koshari?", Layla asks. 

Yasmin stares into her koshari bowl. Her eyes slip closed, then open again.

"... What?" She asks. 

"I said, would anyone like to hear a story?"

Yasmin just shakes her head.

Fayruz looks over at Layla. "Give it time," she says. "I think anyone's taste for tales of adventure would be blunted by what we've been through this journey."

"A happy story, then. Of home, not of adventures. Of a place where the papyrus grows and there are all the comforts of civilization."

Yasmin manages a small smile at that. 

"I think I might like that." 

"Alright, then. Once, in a city not far from here, there was a scribe who worked every day writing ledgers for a great merchant..." 

It's not her best attempt. But anything is worth it to put a smile back on Yasmin's face. She speaks of love, of comfort, of rest. Of what awaits them at journey's end. Of the city of Tephu, with its papyrus trade and many scribes. 

It must all seem so faraway to Yasmin now. But she must find it in her to say the words for her, even if it hurts to see her enthusiasm so dulled.

She listens. She doesn't applaud at the end. But she eats her koshari, and when she gets up again she's a little restored. 

Nothing can really comfort her, but it helps to see Layla try.

She really hopes Yasmin recovers. To have something like this happen on your first journey out leaves scars. Yasmin might even leave the caravan behind: Layla's seen it happen before.

Still. There is nothing to do but to press on. 

She has the company break camp after lunch, and guides them onward. The last leg to Tephu.

She has the Crook to follow. It will guide them home. 

Sometimes, all you can do is your best. Layla has always been better at mending others' hearts than her.

Just a few more miles. Not long now. Then walls, people, civilization. The city of scribes. Safety. 

The dunes turn to marshlands as the river spreads out. 

She's in the right place. She follows the routes she knows across the papyrus marshes, and - 

A dock amid the marsh, with gatherers working the fields. They're home. 

"Tephu!" she bellows, and she spurs her camel on. 

And there they are, the long-awaited city walls. Safety, of a kind.

It's been a long, long journey, but at last they are returned to civilization. 

She knew her sister would succeed. She always does.

They stop outside the city walls, and begin to unload. It's time for pay to be made to all the caravan-guards and for the profits to be split between the company.