Inajda can’t find their signal, as she travels electromagnetically through space, to find her children, but she’s logged Alexand’s map into her writer. She materialises outside an old market town.

The writer gives life to a story, the reader keeps it alive.
The cart doesn’t stop, as the danger of being hijacked gets greater, the deeper they travel into Kekexili. Heyem is woken from her sleep as the carriage jars to a halt, and the sound of gunfire ricochets around the desert.
(This is for you Dad. You died exactly 20 years ago today. My stories and my world are dedicated to you. I will try to find you in my stories, to go to places far away from this world, to search for you. Maybe one day I’ll know you again. Until then I’ll keep writing. I’ll never forget you. This issue is also dedicated to Kelly Priestley, and her family, a beautiful soul, taken far too soon. You are in my thoughts.) Alexand and her troops have travelled for days across the Red Sand Hills of Kekexili, in Qinghai, China. The cart has avoided the mountains, where tribes of bandits live. The land is dangerous, and the threat from bandits is ever present. Farokh sits at the front behind the driver, next to Alex.