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out the nearest animals; the rest of the flock was an indistinct blur. But where there are llamels, there are Pastors. And since there were no bushes near by, let
alone trees he could hide behind, the man decided he had to get as far away from them as he could. He walked on as fast as his stumpy legs would allow.
    So as not to think about how tired he was, he started to think about the llamels. He soon found himself wondering what those enormous red-haired beasts would do in the jungles of the Remote
Realm. How could they possibly get through the undergrowth with their splayed feet and heavy bodies? They could not climb or fly; nor could they make themselves thin the way jaguars did, or crawl
like snakes. He imagined them hopelessly stuck, longing to be roaming again through their vast deserts. At that point he suddenly realized that he too was stuck, longing for his home. ‘What
about you, Zitzahay? Isn’t the jungle your home, and despite that, haven’t you just crossed the desert?’
    Yes, he had crossed that vast expanse safely! As he took his first step beyond the bridge, he looked up to find the eagle. He wanted to ask her to laugh with him, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Eventually he felt so happy he laughed on his own.
    Behind him lay the empty wastes, the Marshy River, and the flocks of llamels. The forest was close at hand, and with it came the promise of an easier journey.
    He walked on. He soon realized that the eagle had not followed him, but was not concerned: he had learnt by now that it was the bird’s habit to disappear. When he reached the first
well-defined shadows he looked for her again. He stared so hard into the sky that he confused her with other birds. And because he was looking up so much, he stumbled over everything he met in his
way. He called out ‘Eagle’ softly, because he could not shout. ‘My friend,’ he said. He looked and looked, until finally he realized the eagle had stayed in the desert.
‘And there I was, thinking only of the llamels!’ Despite the welcoming forest, he could not forget her. ‘And as you can see, I still haven’t,’ he told his
listeners.
    Nothing was sent to replace the bird to help him on his way. At least, he was not aware of anything. Although he would have liked to have someone to talk to, the fact was that once he had
crossed the river, the journey became so easy that he had no need of help. The path he had been told to follow kept him well away from the villages of the southern warriors. Added to that, his
hearing, his sense of smell and his ability to walk silently kept him safe. ‘I have no idea if the stars were on my side too!’
    In order to avoid the Husihuilke villages he had to take a winding path full of detours. He often had to double back, and yet he never got lost. The landmarks he had to follow were unmistakable:
quite the opposite to the Land Without Shadow. There all he could see were the Maduinas Mountains in the east, the Lalafke to the west, and sand all around him. In these forests at the Ends of the
Earth, a waterfall or pool never failed to point him in the right direction. Impossible to get lost somewhere where everything seemed to be a signpost for the way he should take. Rivers flowing
west, a huge cypress wood charred by fire from a lightning strike, twin lakes, springs, lava flows, caves ... ‘The landscape was such a good guide that I walked along singing to myself, as I
did in my own land,’ he told people in later days.

5
TWO VISITORS

    ‘Why are you scratching your legs like that?’ Kume asked his brother and sister.
    Thinking they had successfully disguised the persistent itch and pain the ant bites had caused them, the pair looked at each other, not knowing what to reply. They did not dare tell the truth,
but neither of them had the courage to invent an excuse either. So they carried on walking, without acknowledging they had even heard their brother’s question. Kume shrugged his shoulders and