The cry of a falcon rang across the sky, forlorn and lonesome. It was the only thing that broke the silence of the desert. Not even the winds whispered over the dunes. The falcon wasn't owned by any human, in particular, but it was calling for one man. It was the human that it liked. Maybe one day, it would serve this man but today it served a different master. This master wanted nothing of the falcon. That master did not care. This master was one that most creatures would not know of. It was a special master and only a few ever sensed its need and those that sensed the master's need knew it for what it was. It was the desire of an absolute will that needed to change the fabric of fate by small changes to avoid being detected. It was great but in that greatness, it was also small. It was great to the people below but prey to those above. Like always as below, so above. It was that will that acted in defiance of the will of the great master of the shadows whose will blanketed the entire world. The falcon could sense this will clearly because it wasn't like other falcons. It was old. It was changed by power not even the wisest man understood the extent of changes that had been forced on this creature. Yet, the falcon was no man, it had no ambition beyond having a full belly on the days that it could hunt. It did not hunger for more power. The life it led pleased it. It had many strong children. It had many a good hunt. Now it would serve what made it strong.

The harsh cry of the falcon woke up the man who was supposed to be awake. He was the watcher of his people. He rubbed his eyes tiredly with a small curse. He had slept on his job again. It wasn't a good sign. If any of the people saw him asleep so, at his duty, he would have been stripped of the rank that he held - meagre as it was. He was a watcher not because he was gifted with the eyes to pierce through the thousand miles like the other watchers. He was here because he had no special skill amongst the people. He was a passably good hunter but the season for hunting the prey was done. He was just allowed to hunt as well not for the hunt itself but because he was to arrange for his own feeding. It was only because of his parentage that he had even been allowed to do so. It was the way that things were. He was of the people yet not of their blood. It was because of that that he occupied no niche in the system of the people. So today he was asked to be the watcher.

The regular watcher had been sent on a scouting mission, and there had been a sign that the barbarian tribes of the people in the north, deeper in the desert were moving towards here, the last few bastions of one of the tribes of the people. He stood up to shake the last of the dregs of sleep away. He saw lands around the people's home, his home he thought in his mind wistfully. It was a home that didn't fit him properly and yet, he could not leave. It was an ill-fitting home and it was still good to have such a home. There was no danger present in his sight. They were well prepared for any skirmish though. He saw all of this from one of the larger transient dunes that overlooked the land. The height of the dunes varied but there was always one that was large enough to see over all of the lands. That was the way it always was. Some things were not questioned. That was part of the way of life of the people. Some things, if their answers were given were liable to cause more harm than good.

He pulled out the goatskin bag that contained his water for the day from the larger bag made of camel skin that held some of the other provisions for his task. The food reserves and the snacks were gone. He had eaten well today. The outdoors had given him an appetite. It was late in the evening and the violet shades of the night were already beginning to take over the blue day sky. Praise the mother, he thought in his mind. He'd fallen asleep mostly because of the comforting heat of the afternoon sun. The winter heat was always bearable and always made him drowsy. He drank greedily to remove the dry feeling in his throat. His time as a watcher would end when the twin moons rose to their peak. It wouldn't be too long now. He wiped away the few drops of water from his lips with the back of his hand. He stood taller now. He wasn't completely of the people. It showed in small things. One was his height. He was still considered as more a child than a young man being only about fifteen years old but already he stood as tall as their tallest man. The other was his eyes.

They were not the blue eyes of the watchers. His were the darkest amber like that of a predator in the dark. They conferred no blessing on him, they gave no skills like the others of the people. Those two were enough for the people to know that he was not entirely of the people. The people had ever had only the blue eyes of the watchers, the black for the people with the endurance to run for days in the deserts and the brown for the nobility. Eyes of this colour were unheard of and if the people had been not the people, they might have had him killed for his differences. He saw the falcon that flew overhead. The great bird had been circling about his position for the better part of the week that he spent as a substitute watcher.

He knew that this job was given to him to mostly get him out of the way of the shearing and the harvesting. There was a strong belief that he was bad luck to have around for those important functions. He didn't mind because the people did not resent him for this. They knew him to be blameless for the fate that he had inherited from the gods. His features were like that of the hawk, all straight lines. His nose wasn't that prominent despite the sharpness of his other features. It made his features seem not too unkind to look at. The slight mildness around his lips ensured that he looked almost regal when he didn't smile. However, he was rarely unsmiling. He smiled often and easily though anyone could see that his heart was not in those smiles. His unkempt hair that curled over his head and cascaded onto his shoulders did little to make his appearance seem normal, he looked more like a vagrant rather than the regal people of the sands. So he looked a strange combination of a wistful child and hard man. He was not entirely handsome though. A scar cut by chance was carved over his left eye and stretched from his forehead to the start of his jaw. It had happened when he had been very young and a little reckless. Animals really could fight when cornered was an understatement. He had been lucky that his eye hadn't been taken. He wore the loose-fitting robes of the people. He liked the way the wind silently pulled at his billowing clothes. It was like the touch of a welcome companion. His skin shone in the light of the dying sun, it was dark like others of his people, the sun shone on all alike without discrimination. He took a deep breath.

"Oy, falcon, thanks for the aid. Here, I don't need this," he called out as he pulled out the dried meat that he carried as part of his rations. He wasn't that hungry and these were part of his rations to do as he wished. He threw the meat into the air. The falcon which had been at a great height dropped like an arrow from heaven and snatched the meat before it could even begin a downward descent from the throw upwards. The man laughed. It was good to see a falcon in flight, any bird of prey would have done that. It was a sight to gladden one's heart. This one was a good specimen with a wingspan of ten feet. A large one it was. Falcons rarely lived to be that size. "Praise the mother for you. Right, the debts are done with. Now only a few more moments and I can return home." He looked towards the settlement below with its buildings already beginning to get lit by the light of oil burners. It was good to have a home and not have to face any punishment for slacking off. He knew that if he was to be punished, it wouldn't be light. He couldn't understand it but he had a feeling when he was younger that he had no home. But that he mused might have been because he didn't have a family. Now he was of the people. And the people always were family. He looked and then sat down once more. Some things were not done. His time for being the watcher was not yet done.