“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anything else suitable,” Jiyong apologized, handing over a spare coat to Seungri.  After a dinner of scorpions and lizards, the three travellers were ready for a good night’s rest. Seungri was grateful he didn’t have to sleep in his soiled clothes and took the fleece with a low bow. He would be more embarrassed about the state of his attire had he not been too exhausted from his ordeal.

            “Find me when you are done changing,” Jiyong said, before closing the flap of their tent and leaving Seungri alone. Seungri quickly removed his dirty shirt and slacks, wincing as the fabric brushed against the cuts on his arms and back. Glancing to the table near the cots, he sighed in relief. Seunghyun left a basin of water and a piece of cloth for him.

            As he was washing, Seungri heard some noise outside of the tent. There were definitely Seunghyun’s and Jiyong’s voices, but there was another unknown one among them. Seungri peeked through a small space of the tent as he dabbed his wounds with water.

            “They’re getting more bold. Reckless raids and ambushes have been rampant this past month,” Seunghyun’s deep voice said bitterly. “Our supplies are suffering greatly from these attacks. No one is willing to give us provisions. His reach is much farther than we initially expected.”

            “The enemy is indeed getting closer. I’ve heard of possible movements to the west and part of the east, but that does not mean he has gained their support,” a man clad in dark robes with silver eyes said assertively. “He may have central, but that is all he has.”

            “If that is true, then why are we being denied supplies? Our citizens are running low on the basic necessities. Soon enough he will come south and I don’t know if we will be ready by then,” Seunghyun confessed unsurely. His voice dropped into a small whisper, “We all know what he wants, it is just a matter of when he’ll come to take it.”

            Seungri had only a little idea of what the three men were talking about so seriously around the fire that sat in front of the tent. He knew about the raids of the first prince’s army, heck, he was a victim of them. He lived a simple life in the west, farming locally grown roots and vegetables until a band of men came to get him. He hissed quietly, pressing the wet cloth on the circular scar on his lower back. It was a reminder of what torture he has been through and how lucky he was to be able to escape with his life.

            Seunghyun was staring straight at the burning embers with knitted eyebrows while Jiyong lounged next to him with legs crisscrossed. The silver-eyed stranger kept his robes close to his face, so Seungri couldn’t see much except for the matching silver cross hanging on his right ear.

            “People are more receptive to kindness than they are to fear,” Jiyong said quietly, writing patterns in the dirt. “No matter what happens, we will treat everyone the same way we have always done. This will not change us.”

            The silver-eyed man laughed mirthfully, “Exactly. We will show him the resilience of the southern lands.”

            “Is there anything else you wanted to tell us, Daesung? Any readings?” Seunghyun asked.

            The dark robed man looked up at the stars thoughtfully. Seungri was sure the man’s eyes glowed violet for a few seconds. Daesung shook his head, “Not tonight. Everything should be fine for a while.”

            Jiyong nodded in approval, “Are you heading back to the capitol? Do you want any company? I’m sure we can spare Youngbae.”

            “No,” Daesung stood up, brushing his robes of sand, “It’s better if I travel alone. Everyone knows who Youngbae is. It will attract too much attention. Why do you think I prefer to meet you guys in the bleak desert anyways?”

            He suddenly turned to look at Seungri who hastily hid more inside the tent. Seunghyun and Jiyong turned their attention to the tent as well.

            “What is it, Daesung?” Seunghyun asked curiously.

            “Hmm?” Daesung replied with a large smile full of hidden wisdom, “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ll see you in a full moon’s time. Take care, Seunghyun, Jiyong.”

            “Thank you,” Jiyong said, standing up to clasp Daesung’s arm in a friendly hold, “Take care of yourself as well. Next time you come by, I hope we have more enjoyable things to talk about.”

            “Agreed,” the silver-eyed man shook Jiyong’s hand firmly, “it’s been almost five years since we all had a meal together and I’m sure Seunghyun has gotten better at holding his alcohol.”

          Seunghyun laughed, “At least I have the courage to talk to Minzy. You barely said three words before you bolted to hide behind Youngbae.”

            “Let’s not bring up any sore topics,” Daesung placed a hand on Seunghyun’s shoulders, “We’ll see about it next time.”

            Waving their last goodbyes, Daesung walked into the darkness, his robes camouflaged with the night sky. As he vanished into the still air, his voice whispered behind him, “You keep good company, Jiyong. Don’t be hesitant to use them.”

            “What does he mean?” Jiyong asked quietly, looking at Seunghyun with confusion written on his face.

            Seunghyun shrugged, “Who knows? He’s always been like that since we were kids. Speaking of kids, should we check on our stray?”

            Hearing them come closer to the tent, Seungri swiftly put on the clothes they gave him. He probably shouldn’t have eavesdropped on their conversation, but he was curious about his travelling companions. Based on what he heard and their knowledge of the war, it seemed like his saviors were not normal folk.

            The cuffs of the shirt were a little long and Seungri had to fold up the pant legs a couple of times so he wouldn’t trip whenever he took a step. The clothes smelled of roasted nuts and some earthy fragrance that Seungri was not familiar with.

            “Have you finished?” Jiyong asked outside of the tent. Seungri opened the flap to find the man with a small case in his hands. Seungri nodded with a smile.

            “Sit,” Jiyong gestured to the cot, “And lift up your sleeves.”

            Seungri obeyed Jiyong’s orders while Jiyong set up some containers of what looked like ointment and creams. Jiyong placed himself next to him and lightly took hold of his arms, putting some white substance on Seungri’s cuts.

            “This will help heal your wounds,” he said, concentrating on the deep slashes that would have most definitely been infected if left unattended to. “It has some natural aloe, so it doesn’t sting as much.”

            Seungri nodded, and closed his eyes as he relaxed with the soothing feeling of the medicine coursing through his arms. Jiyong was right. The ointment didn’t sting like what he would have used back home.

            “They’re Seunghyun’s clothes if you were wondering,” Jiyong commented, rolling the sleeves back over Seungri’s arms. “He’s way too tall for his own good.”

            “Hey, I heard that!” Seunghyun’s voice echoed outside the tent. Seungri grinned while Jiyong chuckled, standing up to stretch.

            Jiyong glanced down at him, furrowing his eyebrows, and then went to the nearby table. Seungri craned his neck to see the bronze-eyed man lighting what seemed to be incense. The purple stick gave off a smooth silver spiral.

            “This will loosen up your muscles and your throat. It will also help you sleep,” Jiyong said, “I’ll leave the medicine with you. Feel free to apply the rest to your other wounds and then go to bed.”

 Jiyong gave a friendly wave. His eyes gleaming gold. “Goodnight.”

            Before the man could leave the tent, Seungri knew he had to say something. He was a stranger, unfamiliar with the desert terrain with wounds that would certainly cause a normal person to question his background. But Jiyong and Seunghyun did not. They took him in, provided him with food, shelter, clothes, and medicine. He hadn’t been treated this nicely since his little sister fussed over everything Seungri did. And after hearing their conversation earlier, he could trust that these two were the good guys. He cleared his throat loudly, gaining Jiyong’s attention. The bronze-eyed man looked behind him, tent flap in his hands.

  “Thank you,” Seungri’s voice was raspy from disuse, “thank you for everything, Jiyong-sshi.”

            After a few seconds, Jiyong decidedly pulled down the mask that covered most of his face and gave Seungri a bright smile.

            “You’re welcome.”

  Then, as quickly as he flashed his teeth, Jiyong exited the tent, a shocked Seungri left behind.