1. Shadowshifters

A cactus stood on the horizon, though its shadow took the shape of a dinosaur. And now suddenly that of a horse. And now it turned into a ship. There was definitely just a simple cactus there, which means the dancing shadows could have only one reason.

“They’re coming. Grab my binoculars!”

Gidi rummaged through Jaco’s cotton shoulder bag. The dune gazelle quickly came up with a round, metal object in her mouth.

“No, that’s my compass. Bi—no—cu—lars.”

Jaco lay flat on the sandy dune. The jackal turned his gaze towards dozens of grey dots on the horizon. Gidi stuck her head in the bag again and pulled out an elongated, iron object by the handle.

“What? That’s my dagger! Binoculars. The thing with two lenses.”

He held both paws in front of his eyes, mimicking binoculars. But being a four-legged creature, he couldn’t keep standing on two legs for more than half a second.

Her eyebrows shot up. She nodded with exaggeration and dove into the bag a third time. This time she threw two rolls of parchment onto the sand.

He sighed. “You just need to grab my rope and you’ll have a bingo.”

Her mouth fell open. “No! Get rid of them! Those beasts will eat me!”

“Not a dingo, a bingo. Dingoes only live on the other side of the world.”

One of his ears turned outward. Footsteps. Soft and faded—but that was how Shadowshifters always sounded. He scanned the surroundings, but all shadows seemed normal and fitting.

“You’re useless,” he finally said.

Jaco bounded over the dune, grabbed his bag in his jaws, and scattered the contents before them: a rope and binoculars. He flung the binoculars on top of the hill and peered through it.

He saw a pack of ravenous Shadowshifters. Everywhere they walked, dunes gained shadows as if they were houses and trees gained shadows as if they were animals.

Gidi stared at Jaco with big eyes and drooping ears. “But … but … if I’m useless, why do you keep taking care of me? Why don’t you bring me back to my family?”

“Gidi, how many times do I need to say it? Your family is—how do you say—unavailable.”

“Not even dear uncle and auntie?”

“Yes, even them.”

“For how long will they be unavailable?”

“Maybe quite a while.”

Jaco placed his beige-white paw on Gidi’s even whiter forehead. He felt two hard stubs that would later become magnificent black horns.

“You know what, look at it this way. In this part of the barren desert, you’re the only dune gazelle left alive. It’s my duty to keep you safe and bring you back to better lands.”

“Oh. That’s nice of you!” For the first time, a smile appeared and her chubby tail wagged. “Who gave you that duty?”

“I gave that duty to myself. Now hush, if you don’t want to die.”

He tossed all the items back into the worn bag, except for the rope. This he wrapped loosely around his neck, like a scarf. A trio of ground squirrels scurried past. Their brownish pink fur would camouflage them against the equally colored sand, if not for the white stripe on their sides.

“Hey,” Jaco hissed. “There are Shadowshifters over there.”

“Where we came from too! We’re not safe anywhere.” One squirrel pointed backward and ran on. The others stared at Gidi for a long time before following their friend.

Jaco sneaked in the indicated direction.

“What are you doing?” Gidi squeezed alongside him. Her short legs made it difficult to keep up with him.

“They probably had their nest there. We’ll find food.”

Her stomach growled. Jaco’s stomach reacted the same way. They snuck around the sandy dunes, for walking over them might reveal their location. The sun burned at their backs. With each step, Jaco checked if the shadow on the floor still actually looked like his shadow, and not suddenly a bird or a monster.

After a short walk, they stumbled upon a small oasis.

The sight of green earth, covered in plants, was so rare that Jaco thought he was dreaming. Two dead ground squirrels lay between the leaves. A large Shifter Bite revealed their fate.

“Collect leaves, nuts and seeds,” Jaco said. “I’ll take these two.”

Every time she saw Jaco eat animals, a shiver went through her body. Don’t pay attention to it, she thought. He’s a scavenger. He’d never eat me as long as I’m alive.

Shadowshifters knew the rare fertile spots and guarded them well, so Jaco already fled the area. She had to rush and fling the gathered food into the bag.

Once at a safe distance, he looked at the sun.

“Quick, get my map.”

Gidi smoothly pulled a circular, thin object from the bag, with a needle in the middle.

“You serious?”

“Wait, no, I know this one!” She stuffed her entire face into the bag and lifted up a roll of parchment.

“Finally, thank you.”

Maybe you should carry the bag yourself, she thought.

Jaco unrolled the map. His eyes darted to the empty corner in the bottom right.

“Good, good, good. We haven’t had this area yet.”

“How can you tell from the sun?”

“I’m the best jackal of my family. I can hear the sound is different here. I can smell I haven’t walked here before.”

“Good thing you’re bringing it up. Maybe you should wash some more.”

“Deal. If you learn to grab the right objects from my bag—at your first attempt. Say, do you see anything special?”

“Is a gigantic statue of a head special?”

She leaned in the direction of the sandstone statue. Jaco scratched a sketch of it into the parchment. using his sharp nails. She looked over his shoulder and saw the map was almost complete.

“How do you know the desert ends at the edge of the map?”

“It says so in the legend.”

“Boooooring. I’d rather have a story with dragons, and flying carpets, and dancing elephants, than one that says how big your map should be.”

“It’s not a boring legend! More and more beings all over the world believe it. The Florisian Faith is almost bigger than the Religion of the Banish. Or even Juradom! That should tell you something!”

He noticed he talked unnecessarily loud and switched to whispering.

“And I’m trying to prove it’s a true story, because I’d like to meet one of those gods and ask something. Grab the second roll from the bag.”

Oh no, I left that one behind, she thought. She quickly looked away.

“You know what,” she said laughing, “tell the legend from memory! That’s more fun!”

“Ah. Alright then. The legend speaks of a time long, long ago, when this entire desert was still underwater. An egg—just one egg, green with ragged edges, covered in seaweed—drifted aimlessly over the billows.”

“How can you drift over willow trees?”

“Sorry, it’s an old legend. Billows is Ancient Dovish for waves. The egg kept bobbing, until it suddenly cracked. No one knew how, but out of the egg sprang Ra, the Chiefgod. He flew into the sky and became a second sun. This dried up the water quickly and revealed the land.”

Now that the sun hung lower in the sky, all shadows grew longer and harder to recognize. Jaco wasn’t sure anymore if the cactus’ shadow next to him even resembled a cactus.

He picked up his pace; Gidi was still lost in thought.

“So Ra is to blame for this annoying heap of yellow sand?”

“Erm, yes, in a way he is. He had children—many children—who grew stronger each generation. Osiris was his favorite. He married Isis. They were madly in love and had multiple kids. Ra was overjoyed with his family—Osiris, Isis, Nephthys, Set, and Horus. He had a calendar made with 36 months of ten days each.”

“But … that’s only 360 days?”

“Exactly! The remaining five days were holidays, one for each child of the gods. But then tragedy struck. Set was angry at Osiris for being favored and murdered him. I’ll spare the details, but in no time everyone died, except Isis. The four deceased demigods were buried in the four corners of the desert, in a pyramid. I’ve already found three—at the previous one, Horus, I found you.”

Jaco tapped the top right corner of the map. She saw a large eye with a thick brow and lashes.

“Was Horus in the shape of an eye?”

“No, no, Horus was the sky god. So he was a falcon. This is Horus’ eye. It helped the first inhabitants of this land with mathematics.”

“Oh, fascinating. And Isis?”

“She still lives, if we’re to believe the legend. She wanders around here somewhere, weeping for the loss of her husband. And every time she cries for her family, the Nile overflows.”

“Could she be behind the Shadowshifters?”

“Certainly not! She hates them as much as we do!”

Jaco had to lower his loud voice back to a whisper, again. He was fed up with this. He should be free to live here, of all places. But now even that sandstone statue in the distance was gaining a shadow that looked more like a nightmare monster. And yes, he knew what those looked like.

“So you traveled to this desert just to look for her?”

“Gods no! I absolutely hate this place. I—”

Jaco looked at the ground and drew circles in the sand with his paw. “I’m banished from all continents. The Companions themselves did so—and they don’t make such decisions lightly. This is the only place I’m allowed to live, purely because it didn’t exist yet when I was banished.”

“Oh? Why—”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

At a slow trot, he moved towards the statue. Gidi looked at the black and gray specks on his back, which stood out sharply against his otherwise sand-colored fur. They were shaped like raindrops sliding down a window to meet in his tail.

Jaco was already some distance away when she heard footsteps behind her. Without thinking, she ran up to him and pressed against him, though she was tiny enough to almost walk underneath him.

“I hear them again,” she whispered. “Very close.”