Alphonse Maria Mucha Morning Star

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yeah. They were burdened by all the food and water they had to carry," said Om bitterly. "How lucky for us we haven't got any."
Brutha glanced at Vorbis. He was walking unaided now, provided that you gently turned him around whenever you needed to change direction.
But even Om had to admit that the tracks were some comfort. In a way they were alive, in the same way that an echo is alive. People had been this way, not long ago. There were other people in the world. Someone, somewhere, was surviving.
Or not. After an hour or"Might be useful."
"Against who?"
"Might be useful."
An hour later the lion, who was limping after Brutha, also arrived at the grave. It had lived in the desert for sixteen years, and the reason it had lived so long was that it had not died, and it had not died because so they came across a mound beside the track. There was a helmet atop it, and a sword stuck in the sand."A lot of soldiers died to get here quickly," said Brutha.Whoever had taken enough time to bury their dead had also drawn a symbol in the sand of the mound. Brutha half­expected it to be a turtle, but the desert wind had not quite eroded the crude shape of a pair of horns."I don't understand that," said Om. "They don't really believe I exist, but they go and put something like that on a grave.""It's hard to explain. I think it's because they believe they exist," said Brutha. "It's because they're people, and so was he."He pulled the sword out of the sand."What do you want that for?"