(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.
The group decided to camp for the night. They have reached the borderlands of Tibet. There is no military check point as the place is remote, so no need for them to split up as they had done earlier on in their journey. Farokh lays in his sleeping bag, watching the guards, as they tread the perimeter, hoping that the bandits can’t hear Heyem’s voice.