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Khai grinned ueasily and shouldered his rifle, his heart pounding mercilessly. They'd come so close to death, but never crossed the line. He counted himself lucky, but then again it was in the nature of the Arans to survive under any circumstances (which explains why the country has never ben successfully occupied by an imperial nation).

"Do you need a place to stay, Karim?" Khia asked, trying to make conversation.

"You can stay with me," the boy offered. "My father's gone across the Holy Mountains and my mother passed away when I was young, so there's plenty of food."

Shack was a more appropriate term for Khai's abode, though by the standards of dirt poor Aran villagers it was a moderate accomodation. There were three rooms, a living room/kitcheb, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Outside was a pump for harvesting precious water.

"Make yourself at home," Khai said, waving a hand over the room as they entered. "I'll make us some dinner." He brought a pot of water in and set it on the rusty gas burning stove in the kitchen. Crue oil was by far the most profitable natural resource Aras posessed, but most of it was smuggled off to foreigners. The villagers were lucky to get enough gas to run a stove, let alone heat their homes.

"Chickpeas and lintels," he replied, stirring the vegetables with a wooden spoon. "The sons of bitches from before shot my goat," he added hotly.

"Don't trouble yourself," Khai replied, dishing the food into bowls. "I'll be fine." He set a steaming bowl in front of Karim and sat down across from him. "My father says troops from Ceraunia are coming to drive out the militants," the boy said hopefully, eating the vegetables. "He says they're going to set up a fair government like the one they have in Ceraunia. He says then we won't have to worry about food. The government will take the food from the soldiers and give it to the people."

"But we have enough guns to make an organized army. Then we could fight them until there's peace," Khai replied. "M father says Aras hasn't seen true peace in a thousand years, not since the Great Lord died."

King Akhmed ha Saar was the last true ruler of Aras, but after his death the sultanate collapsed and the country reverted to primitive subsistence farming and feudal villages. The nation never recovered enough to gain a true centralized government.

"I want Aras to be united, too," Khai replied, drinking the broth out of his soup. "But those men that attacked weren't foreigners, they were Arans like you and me. We can never unite while people like that live in our country."