Chapter 11 – Oasis

Only one other woman aside from the lioness chooses to come with us in the end, and it’s the meerkat.  I’m not sure what awaits the others, but I know they’re likely to be caught if they don’t just turn themselves in on their own.  I try not to think about it much.
Ahsan managed to get us two horses in the end, not enough to keep us all mounted, but enough to carry our provisions.  Our escape from the village went relatively unnoticed, the blazing fire that used to be the brothel quite the distraction.  That, or no one in the small village thinks they’re up to taking us on.  The second seems more likely.  They’ve probably sent a messenger for help already, though.
If we’re lucky, they’ve sent for help to the Sura plantation, and they’ve got their hands full already.  We might have a little lead time.
The lioness insists we take a circuitous path through the dunes west of the village, because the shifting sands there will cover our tracks relatively quickly.  Raja doesn’t trust her, but I suspect that’s because he doesn’t like listening to a prostitute.  Or a woman, for that matter.  
We travel for as long as we can manage, but once it starts getting dark and the scrubland begins to lose its heat, my body won’t avail me any longer.  Ahsan and the meerkat had gotten up on the horses hours ago, and they’re slumping in the saddle.  Even Raja’s feet are dragging.  We’d taken a short rest after we’d gotten provisions, but we haven’t had any proper sleep for almost two days now. 
We make ‘camp’ in the wind-sheltered lee of a large rocky ridge, ringed by small, tough little trees and scrub grass.  Raja starts us a fire while I pass the water skin around, cautioning everyone to ration.  
“About how long?”  I ask Lavanya, taking stock of our limited supplies.
“A little less than two days from here, I think,” she says, narrowing her eyes and looking to the dark horizon.  
“If the clans don’t run the roost at this place, who does?”  Raja asks, leaning back against the boulder and stretching out his long legs.  For some reason, he felt the need to remove his loin cloth when we settled down for the night.  He insisted he just couldn’t tolerate the feel of the thing any more, until we can find some place to wash.  To be fair, most of our clothing is filthy.  But I think it might have a lot more to do with the fact that we have female guests.  I can’t imagine the kind of ego it takes to believe you’ll impress a prostitute, but he’s getting more looks from Ahsan than any of the women.  And that might just be because the hyena’s as befuddled by his display as I am.
The lioness doesn’t even look his way.  She’s made a point of ignoring him almost from the moment we met.  But Raja’s question was actually a good one.
“Lavanya?”  I ask, tilting my head to force her to look me in the eyes.  
She eventually does, then replies, “Women.”
I blink, uncertain what the vague response means.  Raja anticipates me, sounding irritated now.  “What kind of women?” He asks.  “Clan women?  Do they have warriors, or is it just another brothel full of whores?”
She slowly turns to regard him, narrowing her gold eyes.  “Those are the only two types of women you know, aren’t they?  The women who subjugate you, and whores.”
“I speak as I find,” the cheetah growls back.  
“Surely you had a mother at some point.  Which was she?”
I ready my body to stand, to get between them as the cheetah’s hackles raise and he flashes his teeth, but the lioness speaks again before things escalate.  
“You asked me who ran this oasis, and I answered you,” she states calmly.  “It is run by women.  Of all sorts.  If that isn’t enough of an answer for you, then I’ll be clearer.  They aren’t clan women, although some of them are hyenas.  They aren’t all servants like us, but some of them are.  They are enemies to no one, except those who wish them harm.  They simply live out their lives there.”  She narrows her eyes.  “And absolutely none of them are whores.”
“How welcome are we going to be there?”  I ask pointedly, looking between myself, Ahsan and Raja.
“They’ll protect anyone in dire need for a short time,” she says, then looks again to Raja.  “Although men like him will not be tolerated long.”
“What exactly have I ever done to you?”  Raja snarls.  “I haven’t so much as laid a hand on any of you.”
“All you’ve done since you walked into our brothel is posture and intimidate,” Lavanya replies, evenly.  “Don’t think I don’t know your game.  That’s the thing about us whores,” she emphasizes the last word.  “I’ve seen enough men in my time that I can figure them out in their first few words.  You know what strong men, truly strong men all have in common?”
She looks back towards me for a moment, then to Raja again.  “They don’t want anyone to know how strong they are.  They don’t need to posture, because they know that when the time comes for them to prove their worth, they can and will.”
“Alright, enough,” I cut them both off before this can escalate.  “Lavanya, you’re as damned as we are if the hunters catch us, so I’m going to trust that you’re taking us some place safe.  We should have a few days on them, considering their nearest stronghold is the plantation, and they’re a mess right now.  Hopefully, they’ll have no idea where we went.  Is this oasis well-known?”
“It’s location is a well-guarded secret,” she assures me.  “I only knew of it because I’ve sheltered there before, and I was led there by one of the women who lived there at the time.”  
“I hope you’re right,” is all I have to say to that. 
Things begin to calm down after that, mostly because everyone’s exhausted.  I spent the small amount of coin we had on water and food, so we don’t have anything in the way of bedrolls, but Ahsan’s busied himself grabbing and pulling up grass to make a small ‘bed’ of crumpled weeds, and it’s looking pretty inviting by the time I make my way over to him with the water skin.
“Here,” I offer it to him.  
He takes it, then before I can even ask, moves to the right edge of his little grass bed to make room for me.  I’m more than willing to take him up on the offer, moving in beside him and slowly settling down onto my side.  As soon as my body comes to rest, I’m more comfortable than I think I’ve ever been in my life.
Ahsan drinks carefully, then stoppers it and hands it back to me.  He gingerly reaches out for me, and I reach back and wrap an arm around his waist, to let him know he’s welcome to get close.  Before long, his body’s pressed up against mine and I’m too tired to contemplate any more whether or not this is right.  It feels right.
I slide my palm up his arm and bring it around to cup one of his ears, stroking the soft velvet there.  He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, and just seeing the smallest hint of peace come over his features melts away the rest of the world.  
“How are you feeling?”  I ask softly.  He hasn’t said much since the plantation, and I have no idea what’s in his mind.  I know that just because he’s been quiet doesn’t mean he’s not roiling inside.  I know, because that’s how I’ve felt.
“Terrible,” he replies honestly.  “But,” he pauses for a moment there, “I’m . . . trying to feel better.”
“We had a very bad day,” I say with a pained smile.  “It’s alright to feel bad about it.  You don’t need to put on a brave face.”
“I’m not brave,” he says, sighing quietly.  “I’d never pretend to be.  It’s not that.”
“You stood up to them, at the manor,” I say, choosing my wording carefully.  I don’t want to remind him about his ‘mother’ while trying to comfort him.  “You didn’t go quietly into that room, you fought back.  That took nerve.  You’re not the terrified kid you were when we first met.  I’m . . . really proud of you, Ahsan.”
He opens his eyes a sliver, and gives a fragile smile.  Then it falls away, just as fast.  “I shouldn’t be this sad, though.”
“Ahsan, it just happened-“
“And we got out,” he emphasizes, his voice cracking a bit.  “We’re free, Kadar.  I can’t . . . squander that . . . by being weak and bringing everyone else down.  I don’t want to mourn everything that happened, I want to . . .” he’s silent a few beats, as though considering.  Then he looks up at me.  “I want to honor what Lochan and all the other servants who fought at the manor did for us.  Like they do when they celebrate the souls lost in the last war.  They wouldn’t want us to remember what they did in misery.  Right?  I know Lochan wouldn’t.”
I stroke my fingers through his mane.  “I guess that’s a good way to look at it.”
He sniffs, burying his nose against my collarbone, his voice coming out somewhat muffled.  “I can’t be as strong as you, Kadar.  But I’ll try.”
I sigh, holding my tongue.  I can’t explain to him how weak I feel.  It’s a rare moment in my life that I allow anyone to see inside that deep.  After Vikram, I . . . couldn’t hide it from him.  Maybe that’s why we’re closer now.  Because for just one night, I didn’t have to be the strong one.
There are so many things in my head that I’ve never shared, never told anyone about.  Even now, the hyena lying next to me, probably the closest person in the world to me right now, doesn’t know the worst of me.  My mother never knew, my wife knew more than I ever wanted her to, but not entirely the truth.  
What the lioness said resonates inside me.  Strong men don’t need to appear as though they’re strong, they just are.  I’ve spent my entire life appearing to be stronger than I am.  And most of the world is fooled.  
The reality is, I’m so weak inside, I can’t even admit to it.  I’ve never known how to be any other way.  And this is why.
The people in my life who’ve always needed me have needed that sturdy, unwavering man.  The tree with the deepest roots, to cling to in every storm.  Ahsan needs that man right now, and I can continue to pretend to be him.  So I will.

	The desert grows flatter and more barren the more inland we head.  I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve been following a madwoman when finally, on the third day, we see a wavering distortion in the distance that vaguely resembles a grove of trees.  A large grove.
	The land around it is more fertile than we’ve seen nearly anywhere else, the grasses growing to knee-length in places, with the occasional gnarled, wind-swept tree bravely jutting out.  
	Lavanya comes to stand beside me, sniffing the wind.  Her ears flick back and she silently eyes the horizon for a time, before murmuring, “We’ve been spotted.”
	My hand instinctively goes to my shotel, but she grabs my arm to caution me before I can pull it, shaking her head.  “Do not produce weapons,” she warns.  “Or they’ll kill us where we stand.”
	“Who?”  My eyes dart across the grassland.  “Where?”
	“Just follow me,” she instructs and steps past me into the tall grasses, making her way towards the distant grove.  Ahsan and Raja look to me uncertainly, Ahsan in particular seems on-edge.  His big, broad ears flick from side to side, and he must have smelled what Lavanya did, because he keeps sniffing at the wind, presumably trying to discern where it came from.
	My own nose isn’t availing me.  All I can smell are the date palms in the distance.  They remind me of the Hyronses, and with that’s come a wash of memories that’s making it hard to focus on anything else.
	“I smell smoke,” Raja comments quietly as we move.  “Cooking fires.  Olive oil.”
	Ahsan nods.  “There’s definitely a community ahead.”
	“I’m curious why the hyenas or the lions have never claimed this place,” I mutter quietly.
	“They have,” Lavanya says, coming to a stop without any warning.  I nearly bump into her, feeling foolish for keeping my eyes on the grassland rather than right in front me, when the first of the women appears.
	There’s no saving your dignity when a lion, or in this case lioness, prowls up on you.  I argue I should be forgiven in this case though, because after the first, nearly a dozen more rise up from the churning grassy sea, all of them within barely ten feet of us.  And they all have spears trained on us.
	I manage not to make a complete ass of myself, and only jump a foot or so back.  Raja loses his composure completely, flashing fangs and hissing like a cornered feral animal.  I suppose it’s far more humiliating to be surprised by cats when you’re a cat yourself.
	The women are all lioness of varying ages and origins, judging by their differing pelts.  Some of them are marked or painted, some of them wear the large hoops through their ears that are distinctive of lions from the far south, and some of them even wear patchwork armor.  The one thing they all have in common is their gender.
	My hands itch to go to my shotel.  Many of these women are at my back, and more disturbingly, behind Ahsan.  And the historic relations between clans of hyenas and prides of lions are, to say the least, usually violent.  ‘Ancient enemies’ wouldn’t be much of a stretch.  The lion prides are the only groups in Mataa who’ve ever successfully rallied enough numbers to fight the hyena clans for control of the country.  Unsuccessfully, but even still, they’re nothing to be trifled with.
	One of them near the front lowers her spear hesitantly for a moment, taking a step forward.  Her face is painted in dark mud, her figure lean and a bit crooked, and her eyes look somewhat sunken-in and yellowed with age.  She’s wearing a headdress that almost resembles a mane, made of horse hair, and she’s one of the women wearing patched camel armor.  I eye her warily as she approaches us.  I learned my lesson with Lochan.  Age does not equal weakness.
	“Little Lavanya,” she says at last, straightening her spear to more of a walking stick, and putting up a hand to the others.
	“Dela Eden,” Lavanya says, stepping past me and approaching the older lioness, embracing her like they’re kin to one another.  That sets me a bit more at ease, but sweeping my gaze across the other hunters surrounding us, I’m still getting a lot of hard stares, and most of them haven’t put down their spears yet.
	The older lioness pulls back and puts a hand over her muzzle, gasping quietly as she picks at Lavanya’s collar.  “Child,” she says in a mournful whisper, “what manner of trouble came your way?”
	“We can speak over the fire this evening,” she replies, gently taking the older woman’s hand and lowering it.
	The lioness finally catches my gaze and narrows her eyes at all of us, taking us in.  I feel like she’s staring through me.
	“Who are the men?”  She asks flatly.
	“Refugees, the same as I am,” Lavanya answers.  “I wouldn’t have made it here without their help, Dela.  Please be kind to them.”
	I blow out a breath, hoping they won’t hear or see my relief.  I’m extremely glad my faith in Lavanya was not misplaced.  She comes off so cold, so dispassionate, I honestly don’t know what to make of her just yet.  But she seems to have kept her word so far.
The older lioness – Dela, I think she called her? – begins to circle us, reaching out with the blunt end of her spear at one point to push it against my shoulder.  “This one’s big.”  She looks back to Lavanya.  “They’re all very large men, Lava.  We have young, and some fled from the territory skirmishes to the southwest.  Some with child.  They will make everyone uncomfortable.”
“Don’t talk about us like we can’t understand you, damn it,” Raja speaks up, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.  I could have counted down the seconds until he said something impulsive and stupid.
“Be polite,” I say to him instead, glancing about at the hunting party still surrounding us pointedly.  “This is their territory, Raja.  Their home.”
The lioness smiles up at me, although just barely.  She was probably even taller when she was young.  “Ought to get a leash for that one, hmnh?”  She says, waving the tip of her spear in Raja’s direction idly.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m some beast of burden!”
Dela laughs at that, as do several of the women surrounding us.  I’m seeing spears go down though, so I’m fine with them getting a chuckle at Raja’s behalf, if it means none of us get impaled.
“I like the cheetah,” one of the younger women says from my right.  “Any man who can argue with a spear in their face is a man worth having!”
“Let them in, Dela!”  Another calls out, and soon a few more voices go up from the hunting party in favor of . . . apparently . . . allowing us to live.
“Mmmnnhh,” Dela continues circling us, smiling now, but still apparently drawing out the deciding process.  “I’m not certain we can take them.  The cheetah says he does not wish to be a beast of burden.”
Another round of amused laughter and a few shouts of mockery come from the gathering of hunters, and I’m getting the feeling it all has to do with some kind of private joke I’m not privy to.  
One of the young lioness, the one who spoke up on Raja’s behalf before, yells again, cupping her hands over her muzzle.  “The cheetah can share my rations if he comes home with me tonight!”
I arch an eyebrow, glancing back at Raja, who looks at once confused and intrigued by the literal cat calls coming from the hunters now.  “You seem popular with these ladies,” I point out, smirking.
He begins to say something, before the older lioness smacks him on the shoulder with the butt of her spear repeatedly, punctuating her next statement and actually managing to cow the cheetah.  “No.  Men.  Who will not.  Work!”
“Oh!”  I exclaim suddenly, “Yes!  I mean, no, that’s fine!  We’ll work.  Is that what you meant?”
“This is no Pride,” Dela says, holding up her fingers to count down the rules.  “Everyone here works . . . even the men.  No free-loaders.  No touching a woman unless she invites you to touch her.  No trouble, or you will have trouble.  The last man who we were gracious enough to shelter who crossed us was buried up to his head in the sand and left for the scorpions.”
“Understood, ma’am,” I assure her, putting my hands up.  “We really only need a place to rest for a short time, anyway-“
“You will work!”  She repeats.  “Or you won’t eat.”
“Um,” Ahsan finally manages to speak up.  “If I could . . . what kind of work?”
The lioness looks at him like she’s noticing him for the first time, and her gaze softens quite suddenly.  She approaches him, putting a thin hand up and gingerly brushing it over his cheek and up to his ear.  I feel a brief stab of protective jealousy.
“This one is a gentle boy,” she says.  Then after a short silence, in a quieter tone, she murmurs, “Someone has been hurting you for a long time.”
Ahsan’s eyes widen, but before he can ask her another thing she lets her hand slide away and steps back from all of us, giving us one last look before turning to her hunters.  “They may join us.”
There’s a raucous chorus of cheers from the women, and quite suddenly we’re all descended upon by the throng of lionesses.  It’s a little overwhelming.  They quite literally group around us as we walk and many of them are speaking at once, asking too many questions for me to answer.  At least three of them ask if they can touch my fur or my armor, and I’m not really certain what to say to that.  
At some point Lavanya begins walking beside me, and she gives me a sidelong glance.  “I apologize for their manner,” she says.  “They don’t see many men here.”
	“What is this place?”  I ask, eyeing the trees of the oasis as we draw closer.  I was right, date palms.  And definitely olive trees, as well.  I’m beginning to smell the olive oil, and some kind of flat bread cooking.  We’ve had little over the last day save some salted camel meat, and it was tough and tasteless.  Whatever they’re cooking in the olive oil smells amazing.
	“A refuge,” she says.  
	“For women?”
	“Not just for women,” she says.  “But Dela Eden and her ‘Pride’ . . . do not call it that, by the way, she hates that . . . they have been taking in refugees from the territory skirmishes to the south for some time.  Women who were spoiled by soldiers, and shamed.”
	It takes me a moment to make sense of what she’s saying, but when I do it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  “Shamed?”  I ask.  “Like the untouchables?”
	“Amongst lions it is different,” she says.  “We do not keep to castes.  But, a lioness who has been despoiled before she is married may as well be untouchable.  The violation is a shame she must bear for the rest of her life.  Men may have her but she can never marry.  And if she has a child, her father or her brothers are honor-bound to destroy it.”  She’s silent a beat, her eyes on the ground.  “Or her, if they cannot bear the shame of having her in their Pride any longer.”
	I almost don’t want to ask, but I do.  “Is that how . . . you . . . .”
	“No,” she shakes her head.  “I was married.”
	She doesn’t explain any more than that, so I leave it alone.  
	“Eventually she began to take others in, including myself,” she continues.  “A medicine woman named Uri decided to make this place her home nearly a decade ago, so they take care of ailing and pregnant women now, as well.  And their children.  These women have no other place to go, no place in the world in which they’d be welcomed, or even tolerated.  Their own families have turned on them.”  
	She looks to me.  “It is not that Dela dislikes all men.  But, most men have other options, when their lives do not turn out as they’d hoped.  This place is a last option for the most desperate.  Do not expect it to be a paradise.  The oasis gives very little, it must be cultivated and cared for with extreme patience and devotion.  You will likely be put to work at the well.”
	“Carrying water?”  I guess.  It certainly won’t be a new task for me.  I’ve been carrying buckets of water since I could walk.
	“Pulling up water,” she says.  “The well is very deep.  Only the strongest pull up the buckets.  We had an ox, last I was here, but it was very old.  That is why she laughed at you.”
	“ ‘Beasts of burden’,” I sigh.  “I get it.  So we get to be your grunt labor for a while.  I can handle that.”
	“The cheetah seems to be getting on better already.”
	I glance over my shoulder at Raja, who seems to have had no issue with allowing the lionesses to touch him.  He’s basking in being the center of their attention.
	“At least he’ll be in better spirits,” I mutter.  “Raja’s happiest when he’s being appreciated in some way.”
	“They’ll tire of him eventually,” Lavanya snorts.  “He had better work.”
	“Raja isn’t lazy,” I insist.  “He’s just an asshole.  If anything, he’ll try to impress them all, and throw out his back over-doing it.  He worked hard on the plantation we came from, it was another way he made it clear he ruled the roost.  He’s fiercely competitive, no matter what he’s doing.  Even if it’s pulling up water, he’ll make sure everyone knows he’s the best at it.”
	“You don’t seem to share the same affliction,” she notes, with some evident respect in her tone.  
	“I’ve never really cared what people think of me, so long as I’m respected,” I reply.  “Men who think themselves important bring a lot of trouble down on their heads.  You wouldn’t believe it considering where I’m at now, and what I’ve become,” I gesture down at my armor, “but I’ve never really wanted to stand out, or become more than I am.  I just wanted to make fucking bricks,” I kick at a small stone in my path, out of spite.  “But even that’s too much to ask for, apparently.”
	“Don’t get bitter,” she warns me.  “The people you’re about to break bread with have suffered in ways you can’t imagine.  They won’t want to hear your sob stories.”
	I sigh.  “That’s fine.  I don’t like talking about myself, anyway.”
	“I appreciate a quiet man,” she says.  “You and the hyena will do well here.  Just stick with the strong, silent routine.”
	“You’ve got it,” I mutter.
	“And don’t be afraid, you don’t need to hide it here,” she says, cryptically.  “No one will judge either of you.  And if they do, they’ll do it silently.”
	After that she moves off, and I’m left confused and alone, since Ahsan’s already somehow managed to endear himself to the lionesses.  A few chat amiably with him about brushing out and braiding back his unruly mane while we complete the short walk to the oasis.  I’m glad to see him attempting to be social and more himself again, but when one of them offers to take him to her hut, I decide it’s time to interject.
	“Actually,” I speak up, trying to keep my tone polite.  “We could all use some water, if that’s alright?  We ran out this morning.  Lavanya said you needed some help over at the well, so. . . .”
	“We’re not so cruel that we’d make you work immediately,” Dela assures me, still walking ahead of us.  She chuckles, “No, come.  We will feed you all, and you may rest the night.  Tomorrow, I will show you some tasks you can put those broad backs into.”

	The first night we spend at the oasis is relatively subdued, but pleasant.  They bring us food and water and ask us to stay at a palm-thatched clay hut near the outskirts of the oasis.  I get the feeling the isolation is part of our induction, to assure we won’t make trouble inside the community on our first night.  And to watch us.  
	But they bring us some kind of flat bread drizzled in olive oil and spices, and two bowls, one full of steaming rice, and the other a vegetable curry that may as well be meat, it’s so hearty.  They say hunger is the best spice, but in all honesty, it might be some of the best food I’ve ever eaten, regardless.  
	There’s also some kind of alcohol they drink here, that tastes enough like the bread they make in liquid form that I’m fairly certain it’s made with the same ingredients.  It’s not the worst alcohol I’ve ever had, but it’s definitely meant to be drunk like medicine, not enjoyed.  It puts us all in a content stupor though, and I’m pretty sure that’s the point.  We all sleep like the dead, on some of the best-woven straw mats I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on, in a dry, cool hut.  With real, actual blankets.
	When I wake the next morning, I am the best-rested I’ve felt in years.  Which is good, because we’re joined before long by Lavanya, who was allowed to stay at the main camp, and two other very large women.  A tiger and a warthog.  They’re introduced as our working companions for the day, and finally, we’re escorted into the center of the oasis.
	I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the inner sanctum of the lush, carefully-layered and cultivated land is every bit as lively and busy as any street back home near the Hyronses ever was.  There aren’t roads or brick buildings, just huts like the one we stayed in and pathways criss-crossing between groves of foliage.  Chickens dart about between brush and people, goats and other small animals roam or are led about, and what consists of their ‘market’ square is dominated by carts or crates of goods, being traded or bartered, (or as far as I know, given freely) out.  It’s as vibrant and diverse a community as any well-established village I’ve ever visited.  With one notable exception.
	Nearly every adult here is female.  There are a lot of children as well, and they’re a more even mix,   but everyone near to my age is a woman.  Many of them are lions, but not overwhelmingly so.  I see several rodents, smaller brush animals like the meerkat woman we brought here from the brothel, a mother cheetah with two cubs in tow, even a few other jackals.  No golden, but we’re more of a rarity in these parts.  
	Even hyenas.  They move about here like everyone else, and no one seems to be taking exception to them.  One of them is selling eggs to a small crowd of women, in fact.  She looks to be trading them for vegetables.
	And most importantly, we aren’t the only people here wearing collars.  I’d taken my armor off last night, and I was concerned I might need to have it on for some reason, to cover my neck, but no one else here is covering theirs.  
	We are getting a lot of stares, but I’m certain that has more to do with our gender.  And most of them seem more intrigued than put off by us.  The fact that we’re walking alongside two very large women whom I’m sure double as guards or hunters when they aren’t working the well probably helps.
	“It’s beautiful here,” Ahsan comments as we head through the ‘village’ square.  
	“We have to cultivate wherever we can irrigate,” the tiger explains, giving me a surprisingly pleasant smile.  “So the plots are . . . everywhere,” she chuckles.  “We more built our homes and pathways around the oasis than shaped it to our needs.”
	“Seems a little tricky to navigate,” I say.
	“You’ll learn the paths and where each of the plots are eventually,” she promises.  “We move in teams, anyway.  Usually one group of two will pull up water while the others carry it to the women working the land that day.  That way the first team can fill up buckets while the others are out, and there’s no waiting when they come for more water.”
	“Sounds simple enough,” I nod.
	“The land is endlessly thirsty,” she says.  “Only the palms would really survive here if we weren’t bringing the water up all the time.  It’s a constant task.”
	“Where does the water come from?”  Ahsan asks.
	“Underground,” Lavanya says.  “No one is completely sure why.”
	“When the first settlers of the oasis came here many generations ago,” the tiger says, “it bubbled up in a small pool.  But the pool was very small, and they struggled to grow much of anything here.  When they dug the well, the deeper they went, the harder and more unyielding the rock became.  Dela believes the hard rock trapped all the water down there, somehow.  From ancient monsoons, or perhaps a lake.”
	“The sands covered an entire lake?”  Ahsan looks mystified.
	“The sands shift constantly,” the tiger says.  “They say they can cover entire cities.  All of this could be buried someday, and our lives will be a subject of curiosity for the people who live here then.”
	“That’s a little . . . depressing,” Ahsan chuckles.
	“I don’t think so,” she says, looking back to us with the black stripes down her cheeks crinkling near the corner of her eyes.  “We won’t be here to mourn our own passing, and even if no one alive then remembers our name or knows us, whatever we do here in this place may matter to them.”
	For some reason, her statement makes complete sense to me.  Usually when people talk like this I tend to assume it’s ‘big talk’ and it will go completely over my head.  But the tigress seems pretty simple, and she’s saying things in a way that I can understand.
	“The past is like a well spring,” she says.  “It can be buried and forgotten, but sometimes it can change the lives of future generations.  This place is only what it is because a long time ago, water was lost and forgotten here, somehow.  And now, we bring it back to the surface, back to give life again.”
	I smile just a bit, despite myself.  “You sound like you love your work,” I say, remembering what that once felt like.  
	“You’ll come to love it, too,” she promises.  “I’ll show you.”
	As it turns out, she’s right.