The point of Hosea’s knife broke my skin.

“If you want to die, I can kill you here and now,” he said.

I blinked, giving him my attention. His mouth was a cruel slash, but his eyes told the real story. They were red from sleepless nights spent tending to the sick. Even after I betrayed him, Dr. Hosea Khan had dressed my wounds.

He reiterated his threat. “I’ll kill you, just say the word.”

“Kha,” I croaked, calling his bluff.

His eyes registered surprise. Then, resignedly, he lowered his knife. “Well, you might get your wish, Cobane, whether I like it or not.” He pointed off into the distance.

I sat up and looked west. The hills were spotted with familiar vegetation—palm, agave, jojoba, fishhook, beavertail, and prickly pear. In the distance, however, the plant life disappeared beneath a cloud formation. It hung dark against the Earth, covering everything in its path. Before I could ask what it was, a new voice explained.

“Big gust coming, Arika.”

I jumped and turned. “William!”

“I am here,” William declared, smiling warmly.

I smiled back as more life flowed into my limbs.

Hosea grunted. “If you don’t know, Cobane, a gust is a sandstorm.” He pulled me to my feet. “William has been tracking us since Cobane. He made contact to warn us of the storm.”

“I bring horse for Arika,” William said. He smiled. “See here—Mary.”

He retrieved the reins of two horses, a dark-brown stallion and a jet-black mare. Sensing the mare was mine, I stepped toward her on unsteady legs.

“Mary,” I said. I rested my cheek against her nose.

William patted my back and hummed softly.

“Do you know how to ride?” Hosea asked.

“No,” I whispered.

He looked grim. “Cumin can’t get to full speed with both our weights,” he said, patting his horse. “I’ll have to guide you.”

William nodded. “Big gust coming,” he repeated. “Arika must ride.”

I looked at the clouds brewing in the distance. I was not ready to die. Not with the hope of escape sprouting in my mind.

As Hosea packed the camp, I ate a handful of nuts and drank as much as my stomach would hold. When I finished, he lifted me into Mary’s saddle. He produced a rope and handed me the end. “Wrap this around you twice.”

Wetting my dry lips, I did as I was told. I gave back the slack. Hosea knotted it around Mary and pulled to secure it. “That’s too tight,” I said, my face pressed firmly to Mary’s neck. “I can’t move.”

“That’s the point, Cobane. I don’t want you falling.” He patted my exposed cheek.

William checked the knot Hosea made. Satisfied, he nodded. “Tie is good, strong.” He mounted the brown stallion.

“Our aim is that precipice,” Hosea said.