The heat washed across the plains with such intensity under the mid-morning sun that perspiration beaded on the brow of the man standing apart from his four companions. It was so hot he almost longed to be back among the dark hills that rose behind them with their shade and channelled breezes but the indescribable triumph swelling within him kept his feet still.

The scene before him was as vivid as it had ever been in his dreams but now, with the sounds of the creatures milling about the grassland and the smell of summer in his nostrils, the Dreamer knew this place was truly real.

“Is this the place?” Simple words cut through the Dreamer’s thoughts. The look the Dreamer levelled in the direction of the head scout, Surefoot, was enough to make the man sway with the need for distance between him and the mystic. One sweep of the Dreamer’s eyes took in Surefoot’s measure, as though deciding whether or not the scout was worthy of an answer. Eventually, he graced the scout with nodded confirmation.

“Good.” The scout mumbled something about finding the best place to make camp; the Dreamer dismissed the four with a flick of his hand. Such mundane considerations were unworthy of his time and effort. He made no sign that he noted the four scouts visibly relax as they were released, for a short while, from their duties as his escort. Wordlessly, the scouts made their way out onto the plain proper.

The Dreamer settled himself onto a nearby rock and narrowed his eyes. The night-wrought images played vividly in his mind; he could picture where the summer camp would be sited, not a great distance from where he was now. It would have been faster for him to tell them where to go but he knew they had their part to play in this as much as he did and he welcomed the solitude, the lack of fearful whispers.

Another memory stirred and the Dreamer scanned the landscape around him until his gaze finally settled on a spot high on one of the nearby hills. It looked empty enough, but the fresh image of two milky eyes set under a thick, wrinkled brow was drawn from his thoughts and he knew she was watching. The deep lines in her face were as clear to the Dreamer as though she stood in front of him, the eyes were sad with dreadful certainty. A smile spread his thin lips wide. In her misery he felt victorious.

The Dreamer could sense it: the time was close when his tribe would no longer suffer in the search for a new homeland. He alone, steered by the truthfulness of his visions, had guided them to a new land and he would now show them how to carve out a plentiful existence in his place.

Bending down, the Dreamer scooped up a handful of dust gathered at the base of the rock he sat on. Slowly, he allowed it to pour between his fingers and be blown by the slight breeze that the hills exhaled onto the plains. More images, of ruin and ash, rose from the future-given dream and fires burned in the dark depths of his eyes.

“Is it time?” His question was met by a silence that set a furrow on his thick brow. “Mother?”

The word of respect caught the attention of the gnarled figure sitting beside him, hunkered in the concealing shadow of a lip of rock. The Seer turned to him. Her eyes were fogged with age but there was no mistaking the pain and worry held within them. The sigh that escaped her lips was leaden and, at last, she nodded. Her gaze turned back to the five newcomers who stood far below them; they, and the undeniable devastation they brought to her people, had haunted her dreams since childhood.

In her youth, she had foolishly tried to guide her people to stave off the future the visions spoke of but here they stood and all her efforts had been in vain. She was merely the messenger, it seemed; she had no power to prevent what was to be.

The silence between the elder and apprentice stretched out as they watched four of the figures step forth onto their lands, leaving the fifth behind them.

“We should tell the other elders, Mother.”

The apprentice turned away and started to pick his way to the path worn by the feet of generations of sentries, taking care to keep his stocky body low so as not to be noticed. The Seer stayed where she was, feeling the eyes of the lone figure boring into her. His face, above all, had stabbed at her heart for he also knew what his coming meant for her people. She could not see his face, but in her dreams she had seen him smiling in such a way that she shuddered to think of it.

“Mother?” The apprentice, realising she had not followed, reappeared at her side and once more stirred her from dreams and memories into the living world. “We must go. The others must be warned.”

“Yes, they must.” Her voice, so little used these days, was cracked as drought-ridden earth. The Seer did not bother to tell her apprentice that the warning would be useless, that her tribe were doomed to disappear within a few generations. Even in despair, she knew they would fight on until they were utterly extinguished and her heart was filled with sorrow-tinged pride in that knowledge.

The Seer took the proffered hand of her young student and allowed him to guide her to the path. As they made their slow was back to their people, the Seer wondered if the long walk of the dead would be as difficult to make as this journey would be.