Nakomi's father paced around his study. The carpet beneath his feat was worn and old, like the man himself. He knew he would not make it for very much longer. He needed Nakomi to understand that to be a member of the tribe after he was gone she needed to meet everyone, but Nakomi was stubborn. She didn't understand. She was too young, not ready to fly away from her mother's nest yet.

He pondered his future overa cup of tea, sipping deeply as the wind picked up again, blowing the flap open. He glanced up as a rider in orange rode by. That was not standard uniform for the riders.A guest, perhaps?

Nakomi's father exited the tent and stood before the fire, kneeling and tossing herbs into the growling embers. The light from the sun was slowly dimming. With a sigh he pointed at the fire pit and flames burst from the embers like firecrackers, before settling into a long, steady burn.

Who was this mystery guest? Nakomi's father sighed. He would wait until morning when his strength would return to him. Until then, sleep was best.

---

Nakomi glanced as her father exited his tent and headed over to the firepit. If he saw me, I will never be able to find my friends. She worriedly glanced around. No one was around, and her father looked worn and weary. It was the first time that she had ever actually seen her father look so peaceful and at ease. He glanced around, and then walked back into his tent. It was time for Nakomi to act.