No, not returning to blogging, but lots of people are asking me what I thought of Inception so I thought I would record my thoughts in a central place where people could add their own thoughts. 

I certainly enjoyed it (and, more importantly, have enjoyed thinking about it since), although I think I came out of both 'Memento' and 'The Prestige' with a more excited feeling. This may be that with those films Nolan was an unproven property, whereas Inception was almost a victim of Nolan's own record- certainly the 'OMG best evar' raves on the twitters perhaps built it up to be more than it was. The fact that it was a sophisticated heist film, I think, was perhaps a sign that Nolan was actually a little bit afraid to take the premise as far as it could have gone. I know it needed a 'hook' to hang the premise on, and as far as it goes that is a nice one, but you kind of felt by the end of it that, well, once Saito had been shot and was in danger of losing his mind in the real world, the premise was a little shot. "Oh so maybe Fisher will break up this energy company but meanwhile the guy who wanted that done is dead." seemed a little self-defeating.

One thing that bugged me a little bit was that the dream worlds were way too linear- they didn't seem dreamlike. The opening of the film seemed to get it right, the dream seemed strange, non-linear. People were in one place and then instantly in another. Someone was there and then they weren't. This is what dreams are like (for me), things just jump all over the place and you don't notice because you're dreaming.

(In fact I've often tried to convince people [I don't think I've ever succeeded, in fact I'm not 100% sure myself, but it's a theory] that dreams are actually just a series of ideas, as opposed to a series of visual images, and then your brain constructs the images around the ideas retroactively. It's a hard theory to test or prove, unfortunately.)

So it started out promisingly, but the heist dreams were extremely linear, which I think robbed the movie of a lot of it's potential. I mean, in a movie where you've established that a freight train can come careening down a highway (which was awesome and made me excited about the rest of the film), why are all of Fisher's psychological defences depicted as 'men with guns' (in all three dream levels!) which can be dispatched with... guns! I'm sorry, but I found the action sequences in the snow really odd, because it was a dream! Yet if you shoot this psychological projection with a gun... they die! Why? That's not how dreams work. It was almost as if the script started as a 'virtual reality' film and as some point they switched to dreams but kept the conceits the same.

The explanation for this is that dreams that are 'designed' by an architect are designed specifically to seem real (so that the person inside them doesn't clue in to the fact they are dreaming, although this rang false to me, since ridiculous things often happen in dreams and you still think it is real), and so seems more linear than other dreams by intention. This is pretty much the only explanation I can think of, but they should have made that explicit within the text of the film. But even with this being the case, why? Why make a film about dreams so linear and boring? Why waste the potential? There are heaps of films about guys with guns getting chased by more guys with guns*. That happens in the non-dream world. Why fill your infinite fantasy with, well, finite reality? Seems odd to think it was a money-saving venture, but that's what it felt like (it kind of reminded me of that episode of Deep Space Nine where O'Brien and Bashir go into Sloan's unconciousness and it looks like... surprise, surprise... Deep Space Nine!)

Also, I'm a little unsure as to how the Inception was finally executed. If the dad was part of Fisher's unconciousness, why did he say the very thing that was required to make him want to dissolve the company? I know there was a little psychoanalyzing about this in the higher levels, but it wasn't really clear to me why the catharsis with the father took place at all, and surely everything hinged on that?

Of course, all this nit-picking may be missing the point (although if it is, I think the film-maker is on board with me, since he populated his film with so much James Bond gunplay), given that the may not have been about Fisher at all, as explained below:

http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/07/inception_theory.html

This theory cuts immediately to the first question everyone asks after seeing it: Was Cobb still dreaming at the end- or to put it another way: "Did the spinning totem fall over or not?" (the moment Cobb said that in the dream the totem never stops spinning, I immediately knew that the closing shot would be of the spinning totem) and, if he was, was he still inside the dream that they initiated for Fisher (ie- he never returned from limbo with Saito) or was the entire film a dream (which would explain why the chase scene in Mombasa was so odd and dreamlike). There's a few other signs the final scene might be a dream- the editing returns to the odd editing of the beginning of the film- they jump very quickly from plane to airport to Cobb's house. Also the children are wearing the same clothes and have the same pose as they do in his memory. But as Dileep Rao says in the interview below- does it matter? What's important is that Leo doesn't look. There may not be a 'canon' answer to the question, and that may be the point. (although I will say: If he is still in a dream, wouldn't he of all people eventually figure it out?)

http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/07/inceptions_dileep_rao_answers.html

In fact, it's interesting that Aiden and I just watched 'Shutter Island' on Friday, which was a film about Leo playing a man who had lost his wife to tragic circumstances, trying to work out what was real and what wasn't. Shutter Island was a bit of a disappointment to me because it could have had an open ending (very easily!) but they chose not to go that way and gave you 'the answer' at the end. I think the point of designing the ending so that it was open-ended means that both answers can be true and we don't need to know whether he woke up or not- or as the guy says in the opium den: "Who are you to say otherwise?"

All this said, the zero-gravity stuff in the hotel was really awesome and I thought it was a clever, enjoyable film, particularly for a summer blockbuster (as summer blockbusters tend to be mindless and, well, awful).

For further reading, here is an interesting article about the soundtrack:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/herocomplex/2010/07/inception-christopher-nolan-the-smiths-johnny-marr-hans-zimmer-and-johnny-marr-on-the-sound-of-inception-its-about-sadness.html

and here is an interesting argument for the 'whole thing was a dream' theory:

http://www.chud.com/articles/articles/24477/1/NEVER-WAKE-UP-THE-MEANING-AND-SECRET-OF-INCEPTION/Page1.html

* this film totally failed the Bechdel test, btw. There were seven real people in the dream. Would have felt less like a sausage party if more than one of them had been female. Spluh! 

Hi all,

In case anyone is interested, here is a list of the shows I am currently slated to attend at Comedy fest (asterix means I am reviewing it for The Groggy Squirrel- no asterix means it is a friend or show I have heard good things about), please come along to any of the shows. If I can particularly recommend a show to go to that would be ‘Apocalypse Soon’ starring Benjamin Crellin, whom I have known since I was five. I’m going next Friday- please come with!

There are shows I am booked to see:

Show                                     Date                      Day                        Time      Venue

Eric                                         1/04/2009            Wednesday        9:30        Trades Hall

*Tommy Dassalo              2/04/2009            Thursday             6              Arthur's Bar

*Dave Bushell                   3/04/2009            Friday                    7:45        Trades Hall

*Arj Barker                         3/04/2009            Friday                    9              Melbourne Town Hall

*Luke's Got Cancer         4/04/2009            Friday                    10:45p   Melbourne Town Hall

*Jamie Kilstein                  4/04/2009            Saturday              8:15        Melbourne Town Hall

Anarchist Guild Social     4/04/2009            Saturday              11:30     Trades Hall

*Green Crusaders           5/04/2009            Sunday                 1:30        Melbourne Town Hall

*Asher Treleaven            5/04/2009            Sunday                 7:30        Melbourne Town Hall

*Comicide                           6/04/2009            Monday               8:30        RMIT Kaleide Theatre

*Beaconsfield                   7/04/2009            Tuesday               8:15        Arthur's Bar

*Justin Hamilton              7/04/2009            Tuesday               9:30        Melbourne Town Hall

World War Wonderful   8/04/2009            Thur                      8:15        Northcote Town Hall

Apocalypse Soon             10/04/2009         Friday                    9:30        Old Magistrates Court

* Museum Comedy To  16/04/2009         Thursday             6              Melbourne Museum

Life on Mars?                     18/04/2009         Saturday              11:30     Trades Hall

*Tripod                                19/04/2009         Sunday                 5              Comedy Theatre

These are shows I have not yet booked but am going to see at some point- I will move them up to the 'planned' list as information develops:

Miss Right                           1 - 25 April           Tue - Sat              8:15        Trades Hall

Time Ninjas                        1 - 25 April           Tue - Sun             8              Trades Hall

Mathew Kenneally          2 - 26 April           Tue - Sat              8:30        Victoria Hotel

Richard McKenzie            1 - 25 April           Tue - Sat              9              Trades Hall

10th Anniversary of Fail 7 - 22 April           Tue - Wed           10:45     Trades Hall

Sammy J - 1999                 2 - 26 April           Tue - Sat              8:15        Melbourne Town Hall

Club XX                                 1 - 26 April           Tue - Sun             6              Bar Open

Please let me know if you’re coming along!

-Dan

"Come on, Kerron, we must get moving. This was a supply caravan, not a scout, which means we're farther behind their forward elements than I dared to believe. We must be hasty, for there will be others not far behind them."

Kerron's mind caught up with the events that had unfolded around him and he gasped aloud, the knife stumbling out of his grip to plunge blade-first into the red sand. All around him was carnage the likes of which he'd never experienced. The caved-in skull, the broken back. Mott lying prostrate on the body of his slain foe, still alive but far beyond rescue. And now the archer, left behind without thought as Salazar stepped over his body and jogged back to the covered cart, whipping open the rear covering to inspect its contents. He spoke aloud as he quickly inventoried what he found:

"Dried food, water, and bedding. Good, good, this is an excellent haul. We'll take it with us. Let's go!"

"He's gone, Kerron!" Salazar said, now beside him. "There's no medicine that can fix a wound such as that. He'll be dead within the minute- and so will we if we don't get moving! Now come on!" He attempted to grab Kerron's arm but Kerron roughly shook it off.

"You saddle the cart and get ready, I'll be right behind you."

Salazar made a noise of frustration but Kerron cut him off by holding up a finger.

"I'll be fifteen seconds, no more."

Before the ranger could protest further, Kerron bolted towards the cranny between the boulder and the cactus copse where the first casualty of the battle had fallen. Sidestepping the body, he dived into the triangular gap and immediately began scurrying in the sand where Mott had buried the two pouches of sulpur. They had barely a layer of the red dust over them and he recovered them quickly, thrusting them into his pack, which had been laying discarded on the sandy floor. Without wasting a second, he scrabbled to his feet and ran towards the wagon, to which Salazar had returned and was securing the traces that fastened the two horses to their burden.

As Kerron ran past the body of Mott and the second cartwright, a random thought occurred to him and he dipped low as he ran to scoop Mott's bloody, fallen mace from the floor of the path. Grains of red dirt stuck to the metal of the four blades where the blood had made them adhere. The mace was heavy, much heavier than he'd expected, but Mott had been a large man and Kerron's arms were thin and not muscular. Still, it was a fine weapon and not something he thought he should leave behind for the lightsiders to find and use against his own. He only wished he had more time to search Mott's now-still body, but he didn't think Salazar would tolerate even another second of delay. He noted, as he hefted the mace from the ground without stopping in his run, that Mott's eyes were now closed, and he seemed preternaturally still. Kerron couldn't tell if he had stopped breathing, but the blood no longer spilled from his neck. Kerron continued to run and tore his eyes from the fallen Thal.

He ran to the fore of the wain to see that Salazar had mounted one of the two horses.

"There's neither seat nor reins, this cart is designed to be walked not ridden on, but we can't proceed at walking speed, so we're going to have to ride the horses. You can ride?"

Kerron nodded, although Salazar need not have asked. While he was young, it was rare to find a child out of swaddling cloth who could not ride a horse. It was an essential skill for the nomadic life of the tribes.

Salazar nodded in return. "Good. The cart will slow us up some, but we can still make good speed- and if we find ourselves pursued, we can cut the load loose and make a run for it."

The horses were not saddled for riding, but bareback riding was also a common skill among riders, and Kerron threw his pack, along with Mott's mace, into the cart before using it as leverage to mount the horse swiftly, pulling himself up to the crease between the barrel of the horse and its shoulder muscles. The horse whinnied and shifted slightly to one side, as if it sensed that its new rider was not its owner, but the beast was tame and complied with his reassurances as he patted its flank. The reins that had previously been used to lead the horses from the front had now been looped over their heads and he held them lightly in his hand. As he did this, Salazar continued speaking:

"We'll just have to pray we don't run into the forward scouts, and if we do, we'll just ride through and hope they don't have the wherewithal to stop one of their own carts."

Kerron, who had only been half-listening up to this point, started and then quickly put his hand on Salazar's arm, reaching out from one horse to the other.

"Wait... we're going nightward?"

Salazar gave him an uncomprehending look. "Of course we are you daftling. Where else?"

"Mott... the man I was with..."

"The Thal, yes." Salazar said impatiently, rolling his hand in a quick circular motion, signifying him to hurry up.

"He was taking me to the caves of the Thal, to..." he paused, unsure of what to say, unable to tell the secret that had been entrusted to him. "...to take me to the caves. To reach the dusk side of night, by hiding below the earth as the day passed us over."

"And do you know where these caves are?"

Kerron shook his head, the hopelessness of his situation slowly rising in his consciousness.

"And do you speak the language of the Thals, should you be able to somehow find an entrance to their world?"

Kerron stuttered as he replied. "N-no."

"Then I'd say that's something of a fool's quest, tribesman. Let's get you back to your camp, with speed."

Kerron's mind raced to find some other answer, unable to believe his adventure had been cut short so soon, but he could find no conclusion other than the one Salazar had already arrived at. He nodded his acceptance.

"Be sure to keep up with me Kerron." said Salazar as his only notice before squeezing tightly with his legs to send his horse lurching forward. Without thinking, Kerron did the same and together the two horses surged ahead, sending the cart hurtling forward down the path. The noise of the hooves thudding across the thick-packed sand and the cartwheels bouncing wildly across the bumpy road as it was pulled much faster than it was doubtlessly designed to do was much louder than Kerron had expected and he winced as he thought of the noise that must surely be echoing up through the mountain valley to the ears of the daysiders. They were well within their territory now, and Kerron noticed that his head ached with the strength of the light on his eyes, and the pounding hooves and rattling wagon did nothing to help alleviate his pain. His head was but one source of his hurt, the other being the thought that, however far away, the entrance to the caves of the Thal, somewhere within these mountains, now drew further and ever further away, beyond his reach. He could not possibly accomplish that which Asherei had tasked him with, and would have to return to her in shame. Perhaps she would know of another way, maybe there was another cave he could shelter in, he grasped.

They ran the horses at top speed for as long as they dared, putting as much distance between them and the site of the bloody confrontation as they could. As soon as the bodies were discovered, the alarm would be raised and their chances of escape would narrow significantly. However no horse could drag the weight of a cart and a body for extended periods, and after some fifteen minutes had passed Salazar gave the signal to ease off and bring the horses to a slower trot, still much faster than walking speed but not the flat-out pace they first maintained. As the noise died down, Kerron was able to ask a question that had occurred to him shortly into their flight from the day.

"If I could venture a question, ranger..." he seeked askance of Salazar before continuing: "Whatever were you doing following me? Not that I don't appreciate what you did..."

Salazar cut him off with a laugh. "Not at all, the least I could do to repay my subterfuge." He considered a moment before continuing. "After I'd done all I could to help spread the word of your camp's departure, I decided to leave for my own tribe, which is some ways ahead of yours, on our own path, although of course we travel the same valley that your tribe takes when it is time to cross the Rashada mountains." This was the same valley that Salazar had found Kerron sketching in the sand- there was only one major passage through the Rashadas, and all travelers not on foot were compelled to take it. Salazar continued: "This must have been about the same time that you and your cave-dwelling friend broke camp, because I saw you walking ahead of me. And, well, what can I say?" He looked sheepish. "After saving your life once, I felt a certain responsibility to ensure your safe passage. And also, my curiosity was piqued. You were heading back towards the sunrise, with the enemy so close. Can you blame me for wondering why?"

"To go to the caves." Kerron said defensively. "As... as punishment. For leaving camp too much." Kerron invented on the fly, mixing a little truth into his lie to make it more palatable.

Salazar gave him an incredulous look. "Whatever you say, tribesman. I guess your elder will have to think of something else to punish you, if this hasn't been enough of an ordeal for you already."

They had cleared the dirty path of the mountain during their quick burst of speed and had now entered the lower foothills at the mountain base where Kerron's tribe had camped previously. Very soon they would be coming upon the place where the camp had been, but of course the tribe would have moved on by now. The landscape was fairly sparse with trees, the crooked things that sprung up in response to the medium temperatures of the penumbra to flourish briefly before the black winter overtook them and sent them into hibernation for another season. While there were not large numbers of these sturdy plants, there was enough to limit visibility to perhaps two hundred feet.

As they crested a rise in the land, they became aware of a noise ahead of them in the trees, the source of which was not visible but was most certainly that of a large group of people. Salazar pulled the horses to a stop and surveyed the land from his elevated position, but saw nothing.

"Could it be my tribe?" Kerron asked hopefully.

"They should be far ahead of us by now. We can't possibly be..."

His words were cut off as a cry was raised, and they saw the source of the noise just as it had seen them- a lightsider visible between two of the trees, clearly calling to more just beyond sight.

"To the right!" Salazar cried before spurring his horse to action, and Kerron struggled to force his horse forward into the same motion, bringing the cart hurtling down the hill behind them as they rushed forward and to the north-west. The lightsiders were directly between them and the path his own tribe travelled.

Arrows pinged off of the side of their cart, the whistle of stabilizing feathers coming close to Kerron's ear as he urged his horse to ever greater speed, the cart bouncing wildly behind them as they passed over thick tree roots and bumps in the ground without thought for their cargo, some of which was flying in all directions from the wagon as if it was trying to shake them free. As they ran along the treeline, more and more of the enemy emerged, some trying vainly to run and catch up with the rocketing cart, others with bows taking wild shots as fast as they could in an attempt to hit one of the two riders. For the second time in as many hours, Kerron's heart went into overdrive at the sight of so many lightsiders- at least twenty that he could see, with many more no doubt just beyond the line of the trees.

While the noise of the horses and their carriage was horrendous, the two riders were still able to distinguish the noise of a third horse coming up on their flank. Kerron whipped his head around to see a mounted lightsider rapidly coming up on the right-hand side of the shaking wagon, notching an arrow to his bow as he did so.

"Salazar!" Kerron screamed, but Salazar had already marked the approaching threat, and was twisting on his mount to face the enemy, displaying incredible balance at this speed. In a single motion, he withdrew a pointed throwing stake, a short piece of wood that had been whittled to a sharp end, and hurled it at the mounted bowman. It spun in the air in a short arc, moving so fast it seemed like a spinning disc as it passed before Kerron's eyes before embedding itself in the upper bow-arm of the rider. With a cry, he fell backwards out of his saddle, but his right foot did not dislodge from its stirrups, and the man was trampled by the rear legs of his own mount as he bounced over the terrain passing underneath it's hooves. Even in his state of fear, Kerron could not help but wince as he heard the cries of the rider as he was repeatedly stomped by the heavy feet. The horse, now riderless, veered off to one side, dragging it's owner with it. Salazar twisted back to the front of his horse and steered it again to the right, away from the treeline and the still-emerging flank of lightsiders.

However without horses the enemy could not keep up, and after weathering another hail of arrows they were away, and again, after some good distance had been put between them and the soldiers, Salazar eased the horses down to a gentle trot. Kerron looked behind him at the cart, expecting to see it in pieces after the brutal treatment it had undergone, but lightsider craftsmanship had much to admire in it, as the cart had survived the flight in much better shape than they'd dared to hope.

Salazar made a clicking noise in the bottom of his throat and spoke: "I'm afraid those troops are directly between us and your tribe, and by the time we go around them, if that's even possible, your tribe will be beyond Shada lake and we'll be trapped between the lake and the lightsiders.

Kerron stared hopelessly. "My tribe's path goes along the south side of Shada lake, can we not go around it to the north?" He gestured ahead, for their flight had taken them in a north-west direction, take lake lay directly ahead, although was still quite distant.

Salazar nodded slowly as he considered this. "There's nothing else for it. It's rougher terrain, for sure, but I've heard of it done. We can try and outpace the sun, catch up with your tribe on the other side. But the lake is huge, as you must know. It will be many months before we can rejoin your tribesmen.

Kerron felt despair overwhelm him, and fought to keep from showing tears before this hardened warrior. Still, the shame was visible in his face.

"What is it, Kerron?" Salazar said. Kerron appreciated that he did not refer to him as a child, as they had when they first met.

"Asherei, my elder, she tasked me with a... a message, for the elder of my sister tribe on the leading edge of the penumbra, where it is dusk."

Salazar nodded knowingly. "I thought as much. That is why you sought the caves."

"Yes. She expected her message delivered within five months. By the time we catch up with my tribe, well, I doubt she'll be pleased."

"I see." Salazar thought on this for some time, the slow rhythm of the trotting horses measuring out the interval in beats. "Could you not simply... go the other way around?"

Kerron laughed without meaning to. "You mean, outpace the night to emerge on the other side?"

Salazar didn't laugh in response. "It's been done. Surely you must have heard of those who have done it."

Kerron had not, but didn't want to admit as much, and so deflected: "But, the black winter? No light. No heat, not for months. Surely no-one could survive!"

Salazar spoke with authority. "There's light from the stars. The heat of your body. Sure, it will take clothing -much clothing- and supplies, as well. But it's been done before, many times. How do you think the sunward and nightward tribes know of each other, by skulking in caves? No, there is nightside passage, if you're prepared to undergo it."

"I am!" Kerron said, excitedly, seeing some little hope at last.

"Well as it happens, brother, it's been something I've been meaning to try." Salazar said with equal enthusiasm. "I wouldn't mind visiting my own sister tribe, now that you mention it. I think I've a cousin there who would find my arrival a thing of much surprise." he said with a grin.

Despite the deep blue glow of the sun rising on the horizon ahead of him, the light over the image was still quite low, covered by the shadow of the surrounding rocks as it was. However this fact did not botherKerron in the slightest. He, as among all of his people, had spent most of his life in a gloom much greater than this, and his eyes were well suited to darkness and shadow. Indeed, toKerron's eyes even the little light that there was seemed positively glaring, perhaps the brightest he had ever seen. He had only seen the sun rise a few times in his short life, and although it had not shown its face over his drawing yet, he hope to see it do so again very soon.

Kerron looked up from his drawing, took two nimble steps over it, careful not to disturb the patterns in the sand, and looked over the crest of the rock that stood directly between him and the sandy bay he had been using as his canvas. Beyond the stone, far below, was the very valley he had been sketching, and indeed, through the valley there came the towers; huge, impossible silhouettes cut starkly from the blue line of the distant skyline. The sounds of their passage echoed up the sheer, smooth chasm walls: oxen lowing, wheelaxles and wooden joints creaking as the towers rocked gently across the uneven floor of the chasm as they inched ever forward. Also, so quietly thatKerron was not sure if it was a sound real or imagined, just underneath the natural sounds of the towers themselves, the voices of the enemy. Although his drawing could not be of sufficient detail, given the size of his canvas and brush, to make out individual details on the towers,Kerron thought he could see them, also, on the top of the tower at the front of the procession: tiny, manlike shapes moving slightly back and forth across the balustrades, and dotted here and there around the tower on foot, like ants from this distance, but still distinguishable as walking creatures, picking their way cautiously across the valley floor.

It was rare to see the towers in this formation, indeed rare to see them at all and not be in great danger. While the towers now traveled in an east-west line away from the sun, they were normally arrayed north-to-south on the line of the horizon, a phalanx of titans that moved ever forward, and that it was a near death-sentence to be caught behind. Although he had heard rumours that such men existed,Kerron himself had never met a tribesman who had been beyond the line- certainly none in his own tribe had ever returned from such a feat to tell of it. Still, however mighty they seemed as they rumbled slowly down the road that eventually wined directly below and past his current elevated position, they could not cross mountains, and were restricted to flatlands. On their yearly cyclical journey along the Great Path, they inevitably faced periods, such as this one, where they had to break formation to cross certain obstacles- the road they currently traveled on, worn down by countless identical journeys back through ages past, was the only way to traverse theRashada mountains, and necessitated the single-file movement that Kerron now bore witness to. The towers that Kerron could see before him were only the first, the vanguard of a long line of many hundreds, perhaps thousands for all he was aware, of similar constructions, that extended as far back along the path as he could see, and then far beyond that, into the sunlight. The sun would be high in the sky where the line of towers ended, a thought that made the young tribesman equal parts curious, excited and terrified.

As a result of the terrain, this provided an opportunity for his own people (whom you have previously heard referred to as the darksiders, although this is not a description of himself that Kerron would have used, his definition, and also indeed his very sense of light and dark a quite different thing to what you and I would understand, but nonetheless an adequate description that will suffice for this telling of the tale) to get far closer to the enemy than usually possible, to move silently and unobserved in the shadows of the mountain, yet get close enough to see thelightsiders , observe their patterns, their fearsome technology, their order of battle. Perhaps a weakness to be exploited or leveraged. It was still dangerous, to be sure, for the scouts of the enemy no doubt moved amongst the very rocks and shadows that they themselves used for cover, but thelightsiders were not as accustomed to darkness as Kerron's people were, and were at a distinct disadvantage in these circumstances. While no general order had been given, Kerron was sure that, somewhere amongst the terrain he looked down upon and etched in the dirt, a few of the enemy were being quietly taken out by his people. Not an assault, not enough to draw attention to themselves, but if adarksider scout was hiding in the shadows and a single lightsider passed him by unaware, Kerron knew that many of his people would not baulk at ridding the gloom of one of the "other". The thought of such death in the shadows sent a cold, unpleasant chill down his spine.

Kerron was not a scout, nor a soldier, but he did have a habit of wandering far from the tribe and into distant, solitary places. To explore, to write, oftentimes to draw- sometimes just to sit quietly and think. He was thought odd for such actions, often chastised by the tribal elders and forbidden from leaving the camp, but he was a solitary being by nature and it was difficult to keep him from breaking camp and exploring. He had noted this quiet, sandy spot in the reaches of theRashada mountains the last two times the tribe had passed through these climes, and promised himself that they next time they passed it, he would come here and draw the sunrise. Thosedarksiders who did not actively fear the roaring eye of the sun, usually scouts or warriors who spent a lot of time near the penumbra, became, if not used to the rising of the sun itself, then at the very least inured to it, not quite fearful yet still finding it difficult or painful to be under the glare of such a mighty, mysterious presence. WhatKerron had never told any of his fellow people, not even his crib-mother, would be afraid to reveal, was that he loved to watch the sunrise. The sun did hurt him, this was true, and he averted his eyes away from it's glare as any of his people surely must, but he loved the lightening of the sky, the details that would slowly etch themselves into the rocks, the trees, his own arms, and the slowly creeping sense of warmth that would gently immerse him as the sun breached the realm of darkness. Kerron knew that he was looked on as different, even strange by his own people, but in the recesses of his mind he suspected that, if he ever let these thoughts be known to others, the consequences from certaintribesfolk would range from severe to fatal. It was a very nearly heretical thought, to take so much joy from the thought of the rising sun.

It would not be long now, Kerron thought to himself, as he crossed his legs and sat upon the cool, smooth surface of the stone, shifting his gaze up from the valley and ahead to the horizon. As the mountains obscured the majority of the skyline, it was difficult to tell when the sun would rise, but the blue at the bottom of the sky had lightened significantly sinceKerron had started his work many hours ago, and something in the air made Kerron feel that the first reaching rays would crest the edge of the eastern ranges very soon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, almost smiling with anticipation. Before he could release his breath, rough hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him violently backwards off the stone, slamming him backwards into the sand at the edge of his drawing.

Kerron, gasping for breath and arms flailing wildly, was momentarily confused beyond the capacity for interpreting what was about him, the rip between his state of contemplation to one of sheer terror so abrupt that it took him several seconds to even fully comprehend what had happened at all. His eyes focused on the face of the man who had grabbed him and hauled him off of his perch on the rock, and to his relief it was not the dark skin of alightsider that was leering above him, but the familiar paleness of his own kind. It was another few seconds before Kerron realized that the mouth on the face was moving, he had just been too terrified to listen, or understand, what it was saying. He stared directly at the moving lips, small flecks of spittle flying out of them, and forced himself to concentrate on what was being said to him.

"What the hell are you doing perched on that rock child, are you hoping to take an arrow to the throat?"

Kerron gaped, unable to answer, and the man shook him roughly once again.

"Answer me, who are you, and why are you here?"

Kerron gulped and stammered out an answer.

"I am Kerron, of the Keldon tribe." he gasped, speaking the truth purely on instinct.

The man visibly calmed and relaxed his hold on Kerron's shoulders, although did not release it. Visually the man appeared as most of Kerron's people did- pale, translucent white skin, grey hair on his head. This man seemed bulkier than most, as darksiders were typically gaunt, and, while the white hair was hard to spot, he also wore a beard, which was also less than common amongst the often hairless peoples.

"Keldon, eh?" He considered a moment. "That seems square. Do you know the Kel-Chath crib?"

Kerron nodded forcefully.

"Yes, sir, they are first kin to my own crib, Kel-Chari."

The man, appeased, took his hands from Kerron's shoulders and slumped backwards into the sand, his posterior smudging the top half of Kerron's creation. Kerron flinched, but said nothing. The man, satisfied that Kerron was not a stranger, regarded him with a new eye.

"Aye, I know of your crib, and your cousin. Good blood, well met." He looked down, momentarily chastened, but then came back at Kerron with renewed vigour.

"What are you doing here child, so close to the penumbra, the enemy practically upon you?" He gestured sharply with one gloved hand, pointed like a knife at the very rock he'd just pulledKerron from. While the valley was no longer visible, the sounds of the towers was louder than ever, the refraction of the rocks concentrating the noise so that it sounded like they were right beyond the rock. "Sitting on your perch like a game fowl, you're damned lucky I saw you before one of thelightsiders did."

Kerron as astonished. "They could have seen me from so far?"

The man looked at him with disbelief. "Could you see them?"

Kerron considered this. "Vaguely, yes, I think I could."

"Then you should consider that they may also spy you, young lad."

"But to hit me with an arrow, from so far? Could even they cast wood from such a distance?"

The as yet unidentified scout gave Kerron a slightly more charitable look.

"No, not from as far as the towers," he raised an eyebrow, "at least not so far as we know, even they could not hit a mark from such a pace, but don't be fooled. Their scouts range far ahead of their main force, particularly during the mountain crossing. There will belightsiders between us and our camps this very instant, I can assure you."

Kerron's reaction to this knowledge must have been quite a severe expression as the man instantly moved to reassure him. "Not so many, and certainly not too much to worry about, it's our territory for the moment, after all, but still, I've no doubt that if they saw you sitting on your rock like an ice monk they wouldn't hesitate to..." He made the noise of an arrow and mimed one going into his neck with one pointed finger. "It's a good thing I saw you when I did, else you'd be on your own. I'm part of the rearguard, we're moving back."

"Before sunrise?" Kerron asked.

"Aye, before sunrise." The man looked up and away towards the sunset as he considered. "They're pushing further and further past thelightline with every year- certainly this is the furthest past the line they've ever been before during the passing. They're getting more and more aggressive with each cycle. We have to let the camps know that they need to start moving a bit quicker this time- we can't tarry in these mountains any longer, or there will be a major confrontation. Which may be just what we need if you ask me but, well," he looked upwards with exasperation. "Greater minds than thee or me." He considered a moment before going on. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Kerron gestured towards his picture, on part of which they both now sat. The man looked about him at the lines in the sand that Kerron has created, more stark than ever now that the sky was brightening. From where they sat, the lines were just that- meaningless lines that bore a resemblance to nothing.

"What are they?" the man asked, confused, seeing nothing.

Kerron stood up, brushing sand from his clothes, and gestured awkwardly."You have to, ah, you have to view it from the other side." He pointed to the base of the image, and, as an example,leaped over it to stand at an angle where the image finally made sense. The man looked about him once more, then joined Kerron at his side- not leaping over the image as the youth had done, but runching through it, leaving two great footsteps over the image. Kerron winced again at this destruction.

Despite the damage from both the fall and the footprints, the image was still recognizable as the valley and the towers below, and the man whistled as he took the whole thing in.

"Impressive, child. You are an artisan?"

Kerron looked down, embarrassed in spite of himself, pleased by the praise, something he encountered but rarely. "No, I just like to draw."

The man looked down on him, not unkindly. "Well, I can see why you picked such a spot. It's an incredible view. Now, help me brush this down."

Kerron's heart leapt in fear. "Brush it down? No!"

The man had already started shoving at the sand with his feet, trying to wipe the image out. He spoke gruffly as he worked.

"In a few hours this place is going to be crawling with lightsiders, and a few hours after that it will be their home, their territory. Millions of the enemy are going pass this very spot. I don't want to leave a single footprint, let alone a bloody document saying where we were, and outlining how closely we were observing them! I'm sorry son, it's a wonderful thing you've made here but you can make another anytime. We can't leave it behind for the enemy to see. We want to know about them- we don't want to leave behind clues that they should know about us."

Objections rose into Kerron's mind but he knew they none of them held water, particularly the thought that he might want to leave something of himself after his passing, no matter who saw it. In truth, there was no way that they could leave nothing behind for the enemy to find- the passage of so many people would always leave some kind of trail, and thelightsiders certainly knew they existed. But the man was right- this was a step to far, and could not be left to be found. So, wordlessly, sadly, he took up his stick and started to use the flat edge of it to wipe out his drawing. Working together it took them little time to wipe the sandy floor clean, his image of that moment in time now gone forever.

When they were done, they stood on the rocks behind the sandy floor, brushing themselves off. The man held out his hand to him.

"I'm Salazar, child, and I appreciate your help."

Kerron's hand took his, and was shaken firmly. Salazar clapped him on the shoulder, trying to raise some small amount of cheer.

"I'll get you back to your camp."

As they walked away from the now-blank canvas, into the darkness of the mountains, the first rays of sun streaked over the lip of the eastern ranges, sending a wave of light down into the valley where the towers rumbled.Kerron looked over his shoulder longingly, squinting towards the light, feeling the warmth on his skin, then turned away.