"Tabby," said her father softly, one hand on her shoulder. "I'm going out hunting. I'll try and be back in a few days, alright?
The girl opened one bleary eye. She was comfortably nested in her blankets in her section of the tent that she and her father lived in, when they lived in the desert. For most of the year, they lived in a small town not far from the edges of the Anfauglir Desert. But her father, raised a nomad in the desert for the better part of his life, often missed the wandering lifestyle he had given up when he had married Tabby's mother. She had died of illness, however, when Tabby was two, and ever since then Tabby's father had used the slight cooling off of the weather every winter in the town where they lived as an excuse to spend a few months wandering the dunes of Anfauglir.

"Mkay," she murmured sleepily. "See you when y'get back." And she nestled further into her blankets. Despite the fact that this was the desert, it was a bit cold out. To avoid the worst heat of the day, when her father went to scavenge and hunt for food in the desert, he started early, before the sun rose on the plains.
Her father smiled and patted her on the shoulder, and quietly left the tent. There was plenty of food and water for the girl to look after herself for a couple of days, and the young girl knew perfectly well how to survive in the desert. By the time her father had made two steps away from the tent, the girl was already fast asleep again.

Over the next few days, Tabby spent hours contentedly playing in the sand. She used her blankets and the few objects in the tent to build forts, and pretended to be a commander defending a castle from attack. She went out into the sands and found burrows made by lizards and desert rabbits, and tried to catch them. She made her own burrow and pretended to be a lizard or a desert rabbit.
When the fourth day alone rolled around, Tabby didn't leave the tent as much. The water was beginning to run low, and she knew she had to keep to the shade and conserve her energy in order to make it last. She often popped out of the tent and circled it once or twice, scanning the horizon for any sign of her father. She wondered where he was. She had worked her way through the food he had gathered from his last hunt, and had begun to nibble on the emergency supplies they had brought with them from their town home. Bits of dried fruit and preserved meat and travel bread. Her father wasn't supposed to be gone this long.

The girl and her father had made rules about when and if this situation should ever arise, but Tabby had never really considered the need for them before. Tabby's father had explained to her once that there might be a day when he didn't come back from hunting. The reason for this was, he had told her, was that the desert was a dangerous place. And there might be a day when the desert took him away from her. If that should happen, she should back what she needed to travel, and she should go back to the city, and go live with the neighbours. It was an agreement between Tabby's father and the mother of the children who lived next door that if something happened to the parents of either family, the children would be taken care of by who was left.
Tabby's father had promised he would always come back by the end of the fifth day, whether or not he had found anything. It was now the end of the fourth day since he had left.

On the fifth day, Tabby tried for a long time to stay asleep. She figured that if she slept long enough, when she woke up, her father would be there. By late morning, she was pacing around the tent. She managed to have a nap during the middle of the day, but during the afternoon she simply sat on her blankets, occasionally nibbling absent-mindedly at a piece of dried fruit. She had never thought of the desert as a dangerous place before. Now, it was starting to sink in that maybe bad things did happen here.
By nightfall her father still had not returned. Tabby crawled into her blankets and tried not to think about the next morning. She couldn't help crying as she fell asleep.

The next morning, Tabby rose early. Before the dawn, like her father had six mornings before. She picked up her backpack and moved quickly around the tent, shivering slightly in the pre-morning cold. She filled her bag with the rest of the dried fruits and meats, and carefully wrapped the gourds of water in their ever-chilled lining. She remembered briefly that her father had payed quite a bit of money for the spelled cloths which would keep water cool even on the hottest summer day. She folded one of her blankets and put that in her backpack as well. Then she began to dress herself for travel in the desert.
A white robe which fell to halfway between her knees and ankles went on first. Tabby had never understood why this robe kept her body temperature tolerable, but her father had once said something about the reflective quality of white cloth. Even so, she hardly wore it unless her father told her to. She could almost hear him instructing to put it on now.
Next, her walking sandals. Tabby much preferred to go barefoot, but the sand would be unbearably hot by the afternoon.
Finally, a white turban which covered her head and wrapped around her shoulders, protecting her face and neck. She tucked her dagger into her belt - being so small, it was the only weapon her father allowed her to carry. Finally, she hefted her backpack onto her shoulders and was ready to go.

Stepping out of the tent, Tabby looked around herself. She knew to head north for her city home, and her father had taught her long ago to know her directions in the desert. But she wasn't ready to give up just yet. After a moment's thought, she dove back into the tent. She used the end of her dagger to draw a big arrow in the sand pointing to one of the walls in her tent. She hoped that if her father came back, he would understand it meant she had gone west.

Her father had occasionally spoken of an oasis somewhere to the west of where they were. He knew the desert well enough to know where the nearest one of these rare havens was at all times. Tabby knew that if she moved in this direction, she would eventually find the one he had mentioned not long before he had disappeared. And so she began her trek.

'Not so far' turned out to be farther than she'd anticipated. The young girl trudged across the dunes for the better part of three days. Wise to the temperatures, the girl found the shade of a dune during the high point of the day, and began to create a burrow in the sand just before the sun went down at night, while it was still warm, so that she could last through the night. During those days she began to reconsider her decision to move west, but wondered how her father would ever find her if she changed direction now. She occasionally cursed her father for not coming back, one of the first times that her small form had been filled with such anger or frustration. But she kept on moving forward.

Finally, on the afternoon of the third day, Tabby spotted the oasis. Re-energized, she picked up the pace of her march. Shelter at last! The girl was exhausted, but excited and triumphant when she finally was able to drop her backpack at the bottom of a tree, and shed her sandals and turban to go sit at the edge of the pool, dipping her feet in the water and enjoying the feel of a slight breeze blowing over the pool and onto her face. For the first time in days, she smiled, and giggled a bit. Then she gave a few small kicks to the water, making the droplets fall back higher onto her legs, and she giggled a bit more. Then she began kicking as hard as she could with both legs, making an incredible amount of noise and managing to wet herself thoroughly in the process.
Finding she disliked the feel of the wet robe clinging to her skin, Tabby ran back to where she'd dropped her backpack and turban and rid herself of her dagger and robe, leaving her with her usual pants torn off just above the knee and a sleeveless shirt. She ran back to the rock where she'd been kicking the water and laid down on her stomach, peering over the edge of the rock to look at the somewhat calmed surface. A little girl with a dirty face and scruffy hair peered back at her from her own shifting rock in the water. Tabby blinked. The water-Tabby blinked back. Tabby waved, and water-Tabby waved back in perfect harmony.
"Hello," Tabby said to her reflection. Water-Tabby mouthed the word at the same time. Tabby lifted herself off her stomach and squatted on her ankles, trying to reach down to the water and touch water-Tabby's outstretched fingertip with her own. Just as the two were about to meet at the surface of the water, Tabby saw something behind her lucid water counterpart.
"Hey, a fish!" she squeaked. Leaning so far forward over the water and the exciting discovery of a fish proved to be far too much, and the girl overbalanced and fell into the water with a loud splash. Unalarmed because she was able to swim, Tabby swam around underwater with her eyes open, pretending to be a fish. She began to wonder what kind of fish lived at the surface of the water. It was beginning to be a pressing worry, but then the solution to her problem dawned on her.
Tabby allowed herself to float up to the surface, and laid on her back at the top of the water, pretending to be a dead fish, and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air.

The oasis wasn't quite as empty as suspected. When you lived in the desert, you learned the safe places, the spots you could curl up with your tail on your nose and dose for a few hours in the shade of the day. The oasis offered all the best: Fish, fruit, water and shade. All the necessities for living in the desert, and yet some craved for more material luxuries.

One Rask Atonis, known to many as Sidewinder, was one of the latter. The fern he slept beneath, face down, his arms spread eagle and his legs crossing at the ankle, was a poor subsitute for a four poster bed as far as he was concerned, and the pale sand not as good as silken pillows. Not that he wanted to leave his beloved desert. Not at all. He couldn't do without the endless dunes to roam, the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the silent and clear nights.

But he had grown up with such simple luxuries of a proper shelter, let alone the more expensive ones. And as such, having visited and worked as a guide for many wealthy patrons, he became enamoured with that which he didn't possess: Large houses, rich food and drink, and life in the lap of luxury. Money, too, fascinated him, but that worth he could appreciate: It was far easier to carry around the worth of an oxen then the whole oxen. Or even parts of it.

His dreams helped fufill his desires, as now in his mind he slept in an overly luxurious bed, the cushions full of down and blankets of the lightest silk. An empty bottle of a sweet wine lay empty on the bedside table, with a pair of glasse-

Wait! His voice rang out in his mind. Two glasses? The half-Gaurim's interest was perked, and he turned his dream self to see who else was there, only to find himself with a face full of cool, wet water. He sputtered, shook his head, dashing away the last trappings of sleep, and pushed himself to his feet, dusting the sand off of his hairy bare chest and face. He was far from imposing at five foot four, with a fair layer of scruff on his cheeks and alert eyes full of gentle chaos. He tugged the long, white headress straight, covering his waistlength hair and waded out of the fern, towards the water, to discover just what it was that had awoken him from such a fortunate slumber.

As Rask wiped the sleep from his eyes and weaved his way towards the water he couldn't imagine the surprise he would soon find at the discovery of the small human floating belly up in the water. First was surprise, at the fact a human had snuck by his heightened senses. The Sidewinder shook his head: He had been asleep after all, it was entirely possible. The second thought that made its way through his sleep addled mind was that if a pup was in the water, they'd have a mother or father near by, and might view Rask as a threat.

Especially with the pup face up in the water... Do humans float face up when they're dead...? A cold chill ran through the otherwise warm half-Gaurim, and his eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, intending to run off at the slightest hint of another presence in the clearing. But he noted nothing other then the youngun's back and some spare clothing. He frowned. "On's small's tha'shoun't b'wanderin' t'deser alone," he murmured. His eyebrows furrowed together and he chewed a few strands of his hair thoughtfully.

If a pup's alone in the middle of the desert, and it needs help, does anyone hear it yipping? It was an ancient proverb. All of fifteen seconds old. And its impressive span and meaning meant a lot to Rask. It implied, with its many subtlties that he ought to check on the youngun' and make sure she was alright, and had some sorta kin around.

"Ermuh... 'ey! 'ey pup!" He stepped closer to the water and waved an arm at the child. "Whatcha doin' ou'in t'desert all on'yer lonesome? Y'lost'r summat?? He waded in to about his hips. "Y'ok? Not'urt are ye?"

Tabby, who was not always the most observant creature at the best of times, and who was completely immersed in the sort of contemplations she imagined a dead fish might have, did not notice the odd man standing at the edge of the pool, staring at her as if he'd never seen a Tabby before. Which he probably hadn't. But when he waved his arms and called out to her, Tabby noticed him.
"Ermuh... 'ey! 'ey pup!" he called. Moving with all the speed of a startled little child (which is an almost unnatural speed), Tabby flipped from her floating position into a more vertical one and treaded water steadily, considering the strange, hairy'n'somewhat scruffy man in a headdress. Tabby remembered briefly that she'd heard there were wandering groups of lizard-people in the desert. She wondered if this man was a lizard-person. She quirked her head to one side as she considered this.
"Whatcha doin' ou'in t'desert all on'yer lonesome? Y'lost'r summat??" he asked, and began to wade out into the water. Although fear was not usually in her vocabulary, the past few days had made Tabby a very nervous girl, and she kicked to move herself a few feet back into the water.
"Y'ok? Not'urt are ye?"
Tabby didn't really think that this man was a lizard-person. He was too hairy, and she was pretty sure most lizard-people probably didn't wear headdresses, although she could be wrong because she'd never seen one. And she'd heard that the lizard-people didn't speak real words much, and were mostly very mean and growly. Did lizards growl? Tabby had never heard lizards make much sound, but she imagined they might in the right circumstances. She also imagined they didn't generally ask if you were okay when they found you floating in the water.

"I'm alright," she said brightly. "And I'm not lost. I knew this place was here, it's why I came here." Feeling a bit bolder, Tabby swam a bit closer to the man. "My name's Tabby, and I come from west of here. I mean...east. This place is west of my place."
Tabby decided that the man was most definitely not a lizard and that it was safe to swim up to him. Also, she was rather tired from her long march, and wasn't sure how long she could go on treading water. Swimming up to him would allow her to stand, at least. She swam up to him.
"What's your name? D'you live here all alone? Isn't that a bit boring? I mean, who d'you talk to? And anyway, is there fruit or somethin' around here? I have dry fruit in my pack but I think dry fruit is icky and besides I'm running out, and my dad says that not dry fruit is better for you anyway. He'd tell you himself but he's...he's..."
Tabby's usual flow of questions ended abruptly. The muscles in her face were strained as she struggled to retain her emotions. She looked at the man in the water in front of her.
"M'dad is...well he went and..."
She couldn't find the words for it. What might have happened to her father was a reality that was much too far beyond what the girl was able to fully understand yet, and it wasn't one she was able to face right away.

Eight days. It had been eight days since her father left. Five spent waiting, and three spent walking. The frustration and the fear and the sheer exhaustion that the wait, and the realization, and the long trek to the oasis had caused were more than Tabby had ever had to handle on her own before. It seemed as if the thought of everything that had happened - or that might have happened - could hardly be held within the little girl's tiny frame. For the first time she could remember, she had been left truly on her own, with no promise of a father who only left when he absolutely had to and always came back within the first three days. Always.
Of all the things in the world, Tabby hated being alone the most.

Tabby looked up at the man who'd asked if she was okay, and he looked back at her, and suddenly with a small whimper Tabby shot forwards and had wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him as hard as she knew how. She didn't care that she'd never met him before and she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. She didn't care that this man maybe didn't like to be hugged, or that she didn't know his name. She didn't care, didn't care, didn't care. She wanted someone who could tell her that maybe everything would be all right, somehow, and this stranger was the only person for miles. So she hugged him and nestled her head against his chest and tried not to whimper or cry too much. Tried to be brave, like her father had always said she was.

To Rask, the little one's aimiable nature endeared him to her immediately. Her idle chatter, not quite with a focused direction but always forward moving, reminded him of a certain furry self from years ago. His face spilt with a large grin, and he tried a few times to get a word in edgewise. With remarkably little success with one who had found just about every loop hole and exception to the rule in the common tongue. And had even made a few of his own.

"M'nam- Yup'i-... Tha'tre-"

Sidewinder gave up. For once in his life he met someone who could out talk him in a straight rush. He smiled more, scratching the growth of hair on his chin idly. He knew the eastern part of the desert rather well, but it still didn't explain the tiny critter stumbling upon one of the oasises he would frequent. It was still days removed from any civilized location. He would know. He chose the oasis for that quality, its removal from too many trade routes and the like. It was peaceful, quiet and occassionally he had interesting company. Like the little girl with her arms wrapped around his waist, sobbing.

Wait... What?

He didn't stand a chance.

"Wha-? Erm... I..."

Wha-? Rask thought, putting his arms gently around the little one. Did she say her pa was gone? Sympathy shot through Rask's heart like a silver bullet. I mean, I may not've known ol' pops, but this un' here sounds like she was close to 'em. May not've had a ma. I would've been a wreck if I had lost ma. 'Specially at that age. He hugged her close, partly in a daze and partly melting at the heart. The heart that usually put Rask and his safety at number one, when he didn't have a pack of his own. And he'd been herdless for a while. But it seemed that this pup was about to change that.

"Ah its'ok, Rask'll look after ye."

I'll do WHAT!?

"Dere's some o'dat fruit o'er'ere, y'want some fruit? Nice'n'fresh'n'such?"

No, no, wait back up a second 'er- Shush yous, pup's in trouble'n'such. 'N'I'm gonna take care of her. Yes I'was a lonesome critter, but this'un needs help'n'such. So we're gonna teach'er atleast how t'run the desert on'er own.

"Is'ok, I'know its tough'n'all," he said, hugging her close and petting her hair in the same fashion his mother had done when he was a little pup and was all distressed. "Bu'I'll help y'find yer father. 'N'... 'N'if w'don't I'll take care'o ye'n'teach 'ow t'get along on t'sand'n'take y't'cities'n't'like." She was still crying. Rask went into panic mode. Wha'makes m'happy? Erm... Uh...

"I'ave this'map. Leads t'treasure."

Smooth Rask. Just what the kid wants t'know'bout. Treasure. Shush. Run wi'it. Kids love stories.

"'N'its deep in t'desert. Mountains of rubies'n'gold'n'such. All sorts o'priceless art'n'the like." He fished around in his pocket and pulled out the ragged piece of parchment. "Y'wanna take'a look? Mebbe some fruit? 'N'who knows? Mebbe yer..." He trailed off, not wanting to bring up her father again so soon. "Mebbe ye'll find sommat familiar'bout t'map. I'aven't found a-soul tha'ken read'er yet." He still held her near with one arm and, pinning the parchment between his ring and pinky finger, pulled up the corner of his headress for her to wipe her eyes on, if she wanted.

When she felt the man's arms close over her, hugging her back, Tabby breathed a small sigh of relief through her tears. She had been afraid that this would be a person who did not like people her age, or did not like to be hugged, and that he would send her away. And then she'd have to go back to the city, and she didn't want to. She didn't want to go back and try to live as though her father had never been there.

"Ah its'ok, Rask'll look after ye." he was saying. Although she'd never really been the type of child to admit that she might need looking after, at this point in time, Tabby really didn't care. What she understood out of Rask's comment was that he was willing to help her.
"Dere's some o'dat fruit o'er'ere, y'want some fruit? Nice'n'fresh'n'such?" he offered. Although moments ago she'd been craving fresh food with all her being, the offered fruit was yet another thing that didn't seem to matter to the young girl right now. Although it was highly likely that once she'd composed herself a bit she would immediately try to climb whatever tree it was that bore fruit in this oasis.

"Is'ok, I'know its tough'n'all," said Rask, hugging her more and petting her hair. If it wasn't for the much cruder manner of speech, it almost could have been her father comforting her. "Bu'I'll help y'find yer father. 'N'... 'N'if w'don't I'll take care'o ye'n'teach 'ow t'get along on t'sand'n'take y't'cities'n't'like."
Rask's intentions had been good, but perhaps offering to help her find her father was a touchy thing to say around the girl. Because on some level, one which she refused to acknowledge, she knew that if her father was all right, he would have come back. The thought that he was maybe dead was one that Tabby refused to allow into her mind. But it was an entirely likely one, and she would probably have to admit it soon. She didn't even bother to tell Rask that she knew how to survive on the desert and that she'd already been to cities.

"I'ave this'map. Leads t'treasure. "'N'its deep in t'desert. Mountains of rubies'n'gold'n'such. All sorts o'priceless art'n'the like."
Through one bleary eye, Tabby peered at the piece of parchment that Rask had pulled out of his pocket. She wasn't exactly an expert at map-reading, but it was the sort of thing that interested her and her father had begun to teach her how to use them. And treasure maps were something that she hadn't been able to encounter yet.
"Y'wanna take'a look? Mebbe some fruit? 'N'who knows? Mebbe yer...Mebbe ye'll find sommat familiar'bout t'map. I'aven't found a-soul tha'ken read'er yet."

Tabby lifted her head from Rask's chest to take a better look at the map. She absent-mindedly grabbed the end of his headdress to wipe the tears from her eyes. She could recognize that it depicted something in the Anfauglir Desert, and that there was some sort of writing on the map. Now, Tabby's father had worked hard to educate her and teach her to read. He had been very proud of his own education and wanted to offer his daughter the same. But Tabby had not been a very apt pupil, preferring to learn how to wield her dagger or build things or wander the desert than sit and read. But he had successfully taught her basic reading and writing skills in Common, and then he had progressed to another alphabet, one that he said not many people knew.
This was the writing I learned growing up, Tabby, he had told her. Not many people know it, because only my people used it. But I want you to learn it, so that if you ever meet them, they'll know you're part of their family.
The writing on the map looked strikingly familiar to the alphabet her father had been trying to teach her.

"Maybe..." she muttered. "Maybe it's..." She gently took the map from Rask's fingers and brought it over to a smoother patch on the warm sand. Finding a stick, she began to write out what characters she could remember from her father's alphabet, then checking the map to see if she could find them. The beginnings of words began to make themselves known to her.
Holding the map in both hands, Tabby tried to sort out the words on the map. The difficulty with this writing was that it was designed to imitate the particular dialect that her father's people had used. That dialect had it's own words that weren't used in Common, and used certain letters differently.

"Na...Nabo...Nabor..." she gave up on the first word. It seemed to be a name of some sort, and she hated reading names that weren't actual words. And she couldn't read the second word either. But the third was a bit easier. "is...hi...hid...den...hidden....her-uh."
Working at deciphering the the words on the map was proving to be the perfect distraction from what was really on her mind. It had been a long time since she had worked so attentively on her reading.

I have no idea what I'm doing.

It was true, he didn't.

Rask Atonis, probably one of the single most irresponsible adults in all of Arda, was just adopted is a sense to be a stand in father. He didn't want this. He didn't ask for this. A slight panic took hold as the child turned to sit on the sand and begin to decipher the map. He was still in a bit of a daze. One minute he had been asleep, dreaming of women, with playful eyes, inviting lips, long tresses of dark, curly hair and shapely hips. The next minute he had a pup grappling him about the waist. Scary how real dreams could be sometimes. He shuddered, vowing not to dream about castration, lest similar things come to bear again.

With that he started towards the pile of fruit and rations he had tucked away. He pulled it out from under the couple of fern leaves he had used to shelter it, exposing the food, and his flask of Mazzer's Brew. It was calling to him. He thought about taking a sip, relaxing a bit, but shook his head. Need t'figure out what t'do about the pup. He dropped the fern on top of the flask and turned around.

"Na...Nabo...Nabor...is...hi...hid...den...hidden...her-uh."

Immediately Rask's ears perked up.

"Wha's hid'n where?" He asked, peering over the small child's shoulder, thoughts of Mazzer's entirely forgotten. Eagerly he crouched down next to Tabitha and idly held out a piece of fruit: It was some sort of curious desert pear, with a pale white skin. Its texture when bitten was crisper, like an apple, but juicy like a watermelon. They were primarily water based, and many claimed you could carry a satchel of them in lieu of a canteen. Rask always erred on the side of caution, call it paranoia even, and was known for carrying both when he could.

"Nabor... Don't ring'a bell t'me. Familiar t'you pup?" He took a noisy bite out of one of the other pears, the juice dribbling down his chin and onto his stomach, not to mention down his arm and pooling in the crease of his elbow. "Tha'there's tha'fortress, nasty place it-is. 'S'were I'got t'map. Some drunk drop'd 'er." Anyone who knew Rask's usual habits could see the irony in the statement. Thankfully the little one didn't. He took another bite out of the pear. "S'now tha'w'got us-selves a'map, where'd y'say y'were from?" He pointed vaguely to the east of where they were now. "Ou'ere?"

"Wha's hid'n where?"
Tabby didn't really hear the question. Crouching over the map, and frowning over the puzzle of the unfamiliar words which only ever revealed themselves to her slowly at best, she wasn't really paying attention to what she was being asked.
She did, however, notice the proffered piece of fruit in Rask's hand. With the typical mentality of a child, capable of being enticed by almost any interesting-looking snack, she promptly decided she was hungry. Because one hand was occupied with marking her place in the words on the map, and the other was holding the stick with which she'd marked letters familiar to her in the sand, she simply snapped it up into her teeth, leaning over to eat it out of Rask's hand. When the juices burst into her mouth, it also dribbled down onto her chin and she absent-mindedly rubbed it against her shoulder to wipe it off.

"Nabor... Don't ring'a bell t'me. Familiar t'you pup?" said Rask, as he bit into his own fruit. Tabby glanced at him in a puzzled manner, not entirely sure what he was talking about. Then she understood.
"No, no," she said patiently. "Nabor isn't the entire word. I don't know what it says. I don't really know how to read it all yet. I think maybe it's a name? I'm not good at reading names."

She began to examine the next words on the map. Just as she frowned at it, a hairy hand moved over the parchment, indicating one of the spots marked on it.
"Tha'there's tha'fortress, nasty place it-is. 'S'were I'got t'map. Some drunk drop'd 'er." Tabby nodded. She had heard of that place. It was called All-bad or And-bad or something. She'd never gone there. Her father had said it was ugly, and full of mean people. Apparently Rask agreed.

"S'now tha'w'got us-selves a'map, where'd y'say y'were from? Ou'ere?"
"Umm," said Tabby, thinking about it. Where on the map was the city she lived in? It was to the north, that she knew.
"The city I usually live in is north of here. There's lots of people there and we live in this little house that's not too crowded 'cause it's just me'n'my..."
Tabby decided she didn't like talking about the city. So she switched to the desert.
"Anyway, I come to the desert every year and we wander through it. I like it a lot, it's a lot of fun although sometimes I think it's boring because it's just sand and sand and sand. I've heard stories 'bout people living in the desert all year but you're the first I've met so far."

Tabby turned her attention back to the map, but it frustrated her a lot. She didn't like written stuff. She was never very good at it, and her father had always had to argue with her a bit to make her sit and practice.
And the taste of that fruit was still lingering in her mouth. Her brief dip in the pool and the piece of fruit she had eaten combined served to remind her that she hadn't been eating much these past few days, and that she was sick and tired of dried fruit. She scanned the nearest trees, looking for a potential source of food. Sure enough, there were plenty of fruit in the trees nearby.
Suddenly forgetting the map and the promise of treasure in favour of the more enticing thought of a yummy snack, Tabby hopped to her feet and darted over to the nearest fruit-bearing tree. With the ease of much practice and the skill that only ever seemed to be present in children, Tabby hopped up onto the trunk and began to make her way up the tree, intent on the fruits at the top of it.