That was all right; he was used to hunger.
There had been nights spent in the open desert, the two of them huddled together against the cold, Kiron's bedding pulled over the two of them. There had been days when he'd rationed out water by the sip, as they crossed expanses of desert. But the Bedu had never misled him, nor miscalled the distances, nor failed to provide him with at least enough water to get from oasis to oasis. But the closer they drew to Alta by their circuitous route, the better he and Avatre had gotten at hunting, and the more game there had been to hunt. Until now—they never went hungry at all. He was tougher; she was tougher, stronger, and much bigger than when they had fled the Jousters' compound.
Mind, what they caught and ate might not be very palatable now, and they might be eking out their meals one scrawny hare at a time, but they never went hungry anymore. They were self-sufficient, and it felt rather good.
He had come to know as much of the Bedu as they ever allowed outsiders to see, and he came to admire what he saw. Not that he had a chance to see very much, for only the Mouths were permitted to speak with outsiders. Still, they were generous within their means, and they never once led him astray. When he slept within their encampments, they found means to give Avatre a warm wallow, by digging a pit, lining it with rocks, and letting a fire burn to ashes atop them before covering the hot rocks with sand. They gave generously of what they had, and he quickly came to the conclusion that they were not the barbarians he'd always been told that they were—not if a 'barbarian' was a wild and lawless creature devoid of the understanding of honor, without religion, without wisdom, without learning. All these things, they had in plenty. It was only in material goods that they were lacking.
He mounted into Avatre's saddle, and wrapped his legs into the bracing straps. He would not need a guide bead now, with his goal within sight.
'You undertake a different sort of trial, when you cross that border, young Kiron,' the Mouth persisted. 'And perhaps things will not always be to your liking. We of the desert know little of the dwellers in the marshy delta of the Great Mother River, for they have little to do with us. I cannot tell you what to expect.'
'But I will be free,' he said softly, with one hand on Avatre's neck. 'And so will she.'
The Mouth bowed his head slightly. 'This is so.' He stared with Vetch to that distant haze of green. 'Then, I can only say, may your gods go with you.'
Kiron touched his brow, his lips, and his heart in thanks and farewell, and gave Avatre the signal; with a tremendous shove of her legs, she launched for the sky.
The free, and open sky, and the beginning of a new life for them both.
