Djurle grumbled and sat up from his sand pile he was using to sleep.

“Ugh… What time is it?”

He looked through the window at the top of the wall he had made to see the light of the sun beaming through, the rays indicating it was about mid morning. He could hear the bustle of the crowds outside, though it was lightly muffled. He stood up, stretched, and made his way outside by collapsing part of the wall to make a doorway. The noise of the stone shifting caused some nearby ukitu to jump in place.

"Sorry! Loud noise!"

He smiled at them and then noticed they were holding fresh vegetables. He clutched his stomach as it rumbled.

"Excuse me, where did you get that?

One of the strangers, a gurnian man with redish scales, answered him.

"These? We got 'em from the giving cart."

"I'm new here, the what?"

"People from the city have been donating food 'n goods to the refugees, about six er seven months ago they got organized 'n started bringing things in wagons, we call it the giving cart. Want me to show ya?"

"I'd very much appreciate it, I haven't had a full meal in a while."

"Few of us have, I get ya."

They started to make their way through the tents when Djurle stopped.

“Hold on, I need to grab something really quick.”

He ran back to his boulder-hut. When he arrived, Djurle opened the hole where he kept his saddle and grabbed a single golden necklace with a finely chiseled garnet from the buried saddlebag. Once he had it in his hands he covered over the hole as before and pocketed the jewelry.

Word of Djurle had spread throughout the camp so different refugees were coming up to him as he was walking and asking when his next show would be, others still were asking him how it felt to do things like move boulders or turn rocks to dust. He gave short, but friendly responses to everyone, but avoided giving dates and times when he could.

"You should be able to see the wagons now."

Djurle stood up in his toes and the top of a wagon came into view.

"Yeah, I see them. Thank you friend."

"My pleasure, Ancestor."

Djurle went to tell off the gurnian for calling him that, but he was already gone by the time he'd turned around. With a small huff, he made his way to the giving cart. As he was walking, a familiar face caught his eye.

"Mikail?"

He turned around, and his eyes lit up like fireflies.

"Djurle! I didn't expect to see you here."

"What can I say, man's got to eat."

"I understand completely."

"Did your son make it home?"

Mikail scowled. "He came home with a black eye and bloody face. The idiot snuck into the city on a bet and got caught. He's lucky that the guards who intervened were kind, he could have been sent to the prison for that!"

"He's a kid, I'm sure most people would give him some leeway. My youngest gets into trouble like that too."

"You have children?"

"Three sons, all rambunctious like their father. I wish I could spend more time with them, but I made a promise I'd do anything to keep, and these days it's too dangerous for them to be out traveling, especially with someone like me."

"Like you?"

A pebble came up from the ground between them into Mikail’s view.

"Like me."

Djurle dropped the pebble. He briefly reminisced about his wife and sons, their smiles filled his thoughts and their laughter echoed in his ears. He began to approach the caravan, and as he looked at it, he thought he saw a flash of red hair dissappear behind one of the wagons. Before he could investigate, a smiley woman with excessively curly blond hair and a face full of freckles approached him and Mikail.

Mikail smiled and said, "Good morning!"

"Hi Mikail, it's good to see you! Who's your friend?"

"My name is Djurle."

"Hi there Djurle! My name is Galilahi."

"Good to meet you," Djurle replied. 

"What's your package today Mikail?"

"Family meals."

"As per usual, and for you Mr. Djurle?"

Djurle blinked in confusion and looked over to Mikail. Mikail perked up and said to Galilahi "He'll have the new arrivals bundle."

"Oooh, a new refugee?"

Djurle said, "I mean, technically..."

"He just got here yesterday. He put on a wonderful magic show when he arrived, I wish you were here to see it."

"I wish I was too the way I keep hearing about it." Galilahi made her way to the carts, Mikail went after her and Djurle followed close behind. 

Good, word is spreading fast. Maybe Yorlan’s kid will hear and come looking for me. Here's to hoping.

She handed Mikail a basket of food that was almost too big for him to carry, and Djurle was given a large leather shoulder-bag. Djurle opened it to find a variety of goods inside, mostly food as well, but also a blanket, another leather vest, and a pair of pants.

Wow, it looks like mine. I wonder if it's as comfortable to sleep in.

The image of the red hair flashed in his mind again, and his curiosity got the better of him.

"Excuse me, Ms. Galilahi, who was that with the red hair I saw leaving a minute ago?"

"That's Chamile, she's the founder of the giving cart."

"Is she now? Very nice, I'd love to meet her."

"She just went to get some goodie bags we left behind, if you're willing to wait until she comes back I can introduce you!"

"I can't stay, I've got business to see to here."

"Ah well, another time then. She loves meeting the refugees, and you seem like someone she'd get a kick out of talking with."

"I'm sure she would. I've got quite a few stories to tell." Djurle grinned. "Some of them are even exciting."

Some of the other refugees caught Galilahi's attention. "As much as I'd love to keep chatting, there's a lot of supplies to distribute still. Off you go then! Get some of that food in your belly!"

Both Mikail and Djurle thanked her and left. Djurle was about to make his way back to his tent when Mikail stopped him.

"I know this is a bit sudden, but my wife was getting the fire going when I left. Would you care to share a meal with us, ancestor?"

"It's just Djurle."

"Apologies."

Djurle sighed, but when his stomach rumbled again he said "You know, I think I would like that."

Mikail smiled broadly, "You won't be disappointed, Morganna works wonders with the cooking pot, and the fresh goods will make it even better, I promise you."

Djurle chuckled, "I already said I'd come, you don't have to convince me.

Mikail joyfully led Djurle through the crowds until a leather tent came into view, held up by sticks. A woman with green hair that was tied into a bun and bark-skin that reminded Djurle of mountain pines stood outside the tent watching a large pot while it was boiling, as well as a boy with oak bark growing out of his much lighter green forearms and forehead whom was sitting on a knee high stump.

“Is this your family?”

“Yes, my wife Morganna, and Olden my son.”

Morganna gave a curtsy as she was introduced and the boy Olden looked up from his stump and waved. One of his eyes was bruised and swollen shut, just as Mikail had said.

"Hello, I'm Djurle Iranu. Your husband said you work wonders with a cooking pot, and I just had to see for myself."

"This is the anc-*ahem*, uh, the magician that I was telling you about when you came home."

"You're one of the living ancestors?"

Djurle winced a bit, "Yes, but please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry ancest-uh- Djurle." She gave an apologetic, toothy grin.

Djurle sarcastically asked as he gestured to the boy, “You didn’t do that to him, did you?” 

Morganna replied, “No, He got this from a brute in the city." Her voice was very flowery, but Djurle noted a weariness to it.

“Do you have any extra chairs? I only just woke up and my feet are a bit sore from yesterday.”

“We have one in the tent, let me grab it.”

The woman went inside and brought out a wooden stool that had a small blanket wrapped around the seat. Once he was seated comfortably, Morganna went through the basket of goods, picked out some choice ones, and prepped them for the pot. Djurle asked Mikail and Morganna about some of their history and shared some stories of his own from his time as a foreman as she cooked. Olden asked questions about his powers and he did his best to answer them, doing so by example when possible.

After some time, Morganna handed Djurle, Mikail, and Olden bowls and they served themselves some of the soup. Djurle saw it had some meat in it and asked, "What's this? Goat?"

"Yes, why? Is it a problem?"

"No ma'am, just was curious. I love meat of all kinds."

Djurle drank some of the broth and was delighted by the taste. While it was no nobleman desert pastry, it was well seasoned and smokey.

With a mouthful of soup chunks, Djurle exclaimed, "Maker'sh teeth, thish ish delicioush!"

He swallowed, and asked "How did you get so much flavor?"

"One of the first friends we made here was a butcher before he fled his home. He smokes meat for us as long as we're willing to let him take a few chops for himself and his family."

"Sounds like a fair trade. Where'd you get the meat?"

Olden said, "Some guy who got got by the checkpoint guys two weeks ago had his stuff auctioned off by casted lots three days ago. I won the goat!"

"Do you know why they took him in?"

Olden shook his head. "Nope."

Mikail said sollemly, "He wasn't taken in. He tried to run the checkpoint and paid for it."

"Oh... Did you know him?"

"None of us did, no. The story spread like wildfire though, always does when someone is stupid like that."

Djurle could see the grim thoughts swirling in Mikail’s head as he glared down his bruised son, who looked back to his food in shame.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. 

Around the time Djurle finished his bowl, a voice he recognized could barely be heard in the distance, the voice of the lumanite woman from the day prior.

“Guardsman! Guardsman, you have to help me! My daughter, I can't find my daughter!”

Djurle hurriedly stood up as he suddenly realized what time of day it was, "^$*@ me the guardaman's there! Thank you Morganna for the meal and Mikail for your hospitality, but I have to go see him now!”

Morganna smiled before replying “It was our pleasure, anything to help an ancestor.”

I'm not that old!

Djurle made his way through the camp, jogging while avoiding as many tents and people as he could. The crowds got thicker and thicker as he got closer to the river. Eventually he had to force his way through. Along the way he began to ask “Has the guardsman been this way, please I need to see him.”

One ukitu refugee fishing under a willow near the river bank replied “No, he hasn’t. He should be coming down the road in a bit, if his schedule keeps. Good luck trying to reach him though. ‘Lotta refugees who have some grievance or another."

Djurle began looking around for a vantage point that wasn't already occupied. He spent a couple minutes looking before deciding it was no use, every branch and boulder was covered in refugees. He briefly considered making one, but with the nearby tents it was difficult to do without hurting someone or damaging something.

I need my horse.

He then ran back into the tents to find a clearing. It didn't have to be big, it just needed to be clear enough to kneel without getting knee'd in the face. Dry ground also would have been nice, though it wasn't necessary. He had to travel a bit to get out of the throngs of people, but he eventually found a suitable spot.

Kneeling down, Djurle closed his eyes and concentrated on the earth. As his hands touched the ground, his senses were immediately overwhelmed by the vibrations of camp life. He could feel every footstep in the camp, from cow hooves to toddler tantrums. He put his focus in the direction that his makeshift home was in. He imagined in his head the campsite, and where he left Crispus tied. A horse shifted its weight in the area.

Good timing Crispus

Djurle struck the ground and broke the rock post he had tied Crispus to. He then began leading him through the tent city, trying his best to move the horse as quickly as he could. While he was doing that, Djurle also took small pebbles and used them to prod at refugees to create a more clear path.

An authoritative and deep voice could be heard shouting in the distance. It said “All of you listen up, if you are here to leave your statement for the investigation, please see my partner. I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

That must be him. Now would be the best time to show him how useful I can be, and then maybe he'll be able to tell me something about Yorlan’s kid.

You should go see his partner instead. 

What? I need to go see this Zebulon guy directly, not his partner.

But, he'll be easier to reach.

That would be a waste of time. No, I'm going directly to the man himself. There's no doubt he's my best bet if there's any chance.

He could feel the people clearing the way, and as they did he was able to get his horse to a good galloping pace.

C'mon Crispus, hurry up.

It still took a few minutes for his horse to make its way over to him. Once Djurle could hear Crispus, he stood up, gave a sharp whistle, and ran towards his steed.