Liana Steeljaw's water pouch had run dry two days ago. She had fled the kingdom of Bellisis with a backpack and a missing eye, and she swore never to go back. Now the desert was killing her slower than any master ever could. Her black fur baked under the sun. Her tongue stuck to her mouth. One blue eye squinted against the glare while her black hair hid the empty socket beneath. She had crossed the border days ago. A runaway servant had no papers, no friends, no destination except away. Water was all that mattered now. Without it, freedom meant nothing but a slower grave. Then she saw the trees. A cluster of palms and cactus rose from the sand ahead, green and impossible. Liana stumbled toward them. Her legs shook. Her paws dragged through hot sand. Beside the trees stood a canvas tent, its panels weathered and sun-faded, its ropes still taut. "Hello?" Her voice cracked. No one answered. She pushed through the tent flap. Inside, bedrolls lay scattered. A cold fire pit sat in the center. Whoever camped here had left in a hurry. Liana dropped her backpack and searched. Her paws shook as she lifted a blanket. Nothing. She dug through a pile of cloth. Nothing. Then she found it. A clay water jug, half buried under a saddle. She shook it. Water sloshed inside. Liana tore the stopper out and drank. The water was warm and tasted of clay. She did not care. She drank until her stomach ached, then poured some over her head. Her chest heaved. For the first time in days, she was not dying. She lowered the jug and heard the breathing. She took another drink until the jug was empty. She then decided to search the camp for any supplies she could use. She went through bags, jugs, everything until she found a dagger with a gold hilt. She took it. She continued her search around camp.