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born to the desert, kova stared long at the greenery — the vines that looked like the jungle's veins, the swaying palms, wind hissing through the tiny gaps the foliage spared. the ground beneath his feet was moist, mushy, like the banks of an oasis. his little world had expanded beyond the shifting dunes. but this jungle was going to swallow him whole! everything was too beautiful. even the wolves here were woven from silk. none of it felt real.

in his admiring of the palace, he had not realized he wandered from both of his mothers' sides. only when he felt one of the spilling vines brush his side did he realize he was alone. the boy whined to himself, and turned his nose to the ground to retrace his steps.