A short story examining love, connection, and spirituality in each and every one of us.

The sand danced, no, it raged. It raged across a sea of extense. Extense. Extense. Extense. The camel’s hooves burned from the constant heat of the sand from the magnificent sun. The sun. The life-giving, all-seeing, wise, powerful sun. Not only did its hooves burn, but the poor thing’s back weighed down. Weighed down not by much. But weighed down. The boy not only knew things, but the boy followed these notions. This very camel, this one yes, was just days ago wasting away at a beautiful oasis. Full of water, green, and eye candy, this camel enjoyed a life of grand splendor. But he didn’t need to walk far at this oasis for anything. The water was close to a shady tree where it spent most of its time. Its days were filled with naps, eating, drinking, and sitting. The camel enjoyed this place, but knew it was not home. This was home for the boy, however. Up until a couple of days ago, he’d never seriously considered leaving. Of course he had thought about it, yes, but never had he been as impulsive as now. It wasn’t impulsiveness at all. The boy not only knew things, but he followed these notions.

His mother had died while giving birth to him. He had never known his father, as he was a man of the desert. The oasis raised the boy, and he repaid it with love. The oasis was the one that taught him love. It gave food and water to the animals and a community to the people. It truly took a village to raise this boy, and he would never forget them. Just as they would never forget him.

He and the camel continued forward. The wind never picked up. It stayed at its same angry strength. No, the wind wasn’t angry. It was honestly pleased to see the boy and the camel. The wind knew their hearts and knew it could display its magnitude to them in a way they would appreciate. Maybe not in their minds at the current moment, as the sailing sands blocked their breath and vision. But they appreciated it in their hearts, at the root of their being, as they knew the wind is just a part of them. As all things are in this world. As each grain of sand soared to strike their bodies a new purpose was made and fulfilled. What had once been dormant was now an expression of love towards the travelers.

Along their path, the two became friends. Through the cold of the night, the camel and the boy conversed, shared meals, and sat under the endless desert sky. A familiar sky to both, the stars acted as guides. No, not guides. Friends. Family. Those who have been watching these two their whole lives. These are the ones guiding their descendants along their path. Familiarity created trust, and trust furthered the two’s progress.

Once, this boy we know knew a girl, and the girl we don’t know knew him. She came on a caravan, a caravan of gypsies and nomads. They touched this boy’s heart. Fondness for life came with this caravan, along with love for the world. The world meaning him, the birds, the ants, and the spiders all the same. The oasis was peaceful with those who were peaceful with it. When travelers came, the oasis accepted their gifts. They laughed, they drank, they danced, they sang. On the rare occasion travelers and the oasis did not share any of the same languages, God spoke through all. They laughed, they drank, they danced, and they sang all the same.

As the girl breathed in the smoke from the boy’s pipe, he showed her the stars that taught him most, and she showed him. The boy’s pipe was from the girl’s father. He had bartered a pair of moccasins he obtained from an Egyptian who acquired them through an Inuit traveler from Antarctica.

“These moccasins have seen more of the world than either of us ever will,” said the boy.

The girl’s father was enticed and offered the boy his pipe. Nothing was especially special about it. Well, maybe not to you. To the boy, this was the pipe of a man who raised an angel. The pipe would not only remind the boy of this girl, but this girl’s father, and all whom they traveled with.

Now, the boy sat by the camel, a fire burning in a hole in the sand, smoking that very pipe, thinking of the girl he once knew, her father, whom he knew as well, and all the others that came along that blessed caravan. No, he did not once know them. He knew them now. As did the camel. Every puff of his pipe was a connection to them, and every new place the boy’s old moccasins saw connected them to him.

The boy and this camel had never necessarily been friends before their travels. Which is odd, as they were both friends with the rest of the oasis. They were not unfriendly however, having exchanged glances and appreciating each other’s place in the oasis. The boy knew the time had come for his experience to further, as did the camel know the time had come for his. They both loved the oasis and the oasis loved them. However, the world called to the boy and called to the camel. Through their hearts, in the skies, and in love. Their trek began in the morning and both were hopeful for the sights in their path.

The boy and the camel walked on. Well, the camel did most of the walking. The boy did most of the riding. Along came a woman. An old, mystical woman. She had long curly grey and white hair. Her skin was as wiry and wrinkled as the black robes she wore. Rings and necklaces of emerald and gold attracted one’s eyes to her fingers and neck. They never saw the woman too far in the distance. As she approached the two, they approached her. When they became close enough to hear each other, they stopped simultaneously. They stopped. They stared. Words weren’t used at first. The boy and the camel tried to sense if the woman was of any danger. They assumed she was doing the same.

“Where are you going?” the woman finally broke the silence.

“Not exactly sure.”

“Are you in a rush?”

“Is she just alone, walking in the desert?” the boy thought. He found it odd that this thought didn’t cross his mind earlier since seeing this woman.

“Not particularly,” replied the boy.

“Would you like to play a game?” asked the woman.

The boy felt the camel’s curiosity rise; he knew the camel enjoyed games. He did as well. They came up with their own games to play together on their travels.

“Sure!”

The boy hopped down from the camel’s back and guided it closer to the woman, who was now sitting on the sand with her legs crossed. She had already pulled a wooden board from her robe and set it flat atop the sand. As the boy and the camel sat down at the opposite end of the board, they examined the board. It was odd. And large.

“How was she carrying this in her robes?” thought the boy.

A short, fleeting thought, but one to note. The board was of typical shape for a game, square, except that its edges rose vertically by about a pinkie finger. He noticed the woman missing her pinkie on her left hand but had an extra on her right. The board was made of a dark wood. The four circles taking up corner space were of a lighter wood and slightly raised. By much less than a pinkie finger. About the height of the stub on the woman’s left hand where her pinkie should be.

Still examining the board, the boy began to inquire, “So how do we pla-“

Six dice of ranging colors struck the side walls of the board. They bounced around the walls, the circles, and the board.

Unaware of what exactly was occurring, the boy and the camel still watched as the dice began to reveal the number thrust upon them. The two were genuinely intrigued by this mystical woman, her odd board, and her colorful dice. She examined the dice closely with no reaction to the numbers facing the sky.

“Your turn,” said the woman.

The boy just listened. He didn’t know the rules or the point of the game, but he listened anyway. He grabbed the dice, one from the right of the board, two from the far left corner circle, one from the bottom left corner circle, and the last two from the middle. Before taking his turn, he examined the dice in his hand. They seemed to speak to him, he just couldn't hear.

“How odd,” he thought. Previously, only things natural to this world have spoken to him. He considered the possibility that the woman had specially crafted these dice, and that is why they felt alive. He tossed the dice and watched as they cascaded through the board. He watched the woman as the dice bounced, waiting to see a reaction that has not previously appeared. When they settled, the woman examined the dice carefully but quickly.

“What now?” the boy asked. “Did I win?”

She looked up from the board and into the boy’s eyes. She then looked to the sky for a long moment. It seemed as if she was looking for someone in the clouds.

“This is no game,” she said. “I crafted these dice myself. The board, I obtained from a friend. They work hand in hand. This friend and I have spent much time in cities, markets, villages, playing this “game” with the purpose of finding what it means. He crafted the board before we met, as did I with the dice. What do you think of it?”

“I-“ The woman cut him off.

“Not you,” she turned and looked at the camel, insinuating the question was for it. This embarrassed the boy a little, as he didn’t want to come off so self-absorbed. It’s just that not many people other than himself are typically interested in what the camel has to say. However, unbeknownst to many, this was a very smart camel. It turned its head from the board to the woman and let out a heavy sigh. The two understood.

“Now you, what do you think of this little experiment?”

The boy pondered. He did not really have any strong feelings on it as not much had happened. He examined the dice once again.

“What did you roll?” he asked, somewhat confused and aggressive. Not harsh, but excited. The woman’s lips turned from dullness to the softest smile. He thought of the gypsy girl and the caravan.

“It only happens at certain times with certain people. With those it has happened with, sooner or later, I understand the reason for our meeting. I believe it to be my friend’s inspiration for the board and my completely separate inspiration for the dice. They work hand in hand. Our inspirations brought us together and they continue to bring me to others.”

The boy and the woman had rolled the same numbers on every single die. Each die was a different color and each color was the same number on both rolls. They also landed in the same position on the board.

“That is why I asked you to play. Our paths crossed, and now I believe it was for a reason. That reason? I know not of. But one day I may and you may too.”

The three conversed for a while longer, of their travels, hopes, and aspirations. After some time, the boy and the camel thanked this mystic woman, and she laid blessings upon them in return. They continued their paths.

-

It was a battle. A long one. As he pulled and pulled, it only seemed to grow stronger. He was at a disadvantage, as he was in its territory. It lived here, and the water would be kinder to it. However, he continued to reel. He continued to pull. He continued to fight. So did the fish. Eventually, the water rewarded his effort, and victory had been won. With this massive fish in the boat, he no longer had to worry if he was going to eat tonight. The sailor understood the fish’s sacrifice and respected it more than he respected most other humans.

It was a calm evening. The waves weren’t too big, and the wind wasn’t too strong. Nobody missed him, and he didn’t miss anybody. The orange horizon kept him company every evening, along with the fish he caught and cooked. Mackerel tonight. He enjoyed learning the different ways he could prepare certain fish for himself. Recently, however, it had been much of the same as he hadn’t stopped for ingredients in months. The only time he had docked anywhere recently was the random islands he had come across, where he collected firewood. The Indian Ocean had become his permanent home. That had always been the plan. He would work until he could buy his very own sailboat, then sail until he grew bored of it or, the more likely option, until the sea decided it was his turn to be the evening’s meal.

The deep blue sea was like a mother to him. It had provided anything and everything he needed. Food and water. That was it. However, like his own mother, its fierce rage came without reason and came harshly. He knew that eventually, he’d have to give himself up to the waters, but until that moment came, he saw no other worthy way to live. The air in the cities reeked of filth, people, and trash. The air in the prairies smelled of manure, animals, and grass. But the air on the ocean, well, the air on the ocean smelled like salt, unpredictability, and freedom.

The Phantom carried him for years and years, across thousands upon thousands of waves. The name came to him immediately after purchasing the ship. Its sails were ghostly white, and with it, like a phantom, he would disappear from humans’ view, yet still be there. Translucently.

Like him, his father had been a sailor. Unlike him, his father sailed on a merchant’s ship. His mother resented his father for being gone almost always, but he understood his father. If his father had not made the mistake of having children, he would be doing the same as he is. He was the youngest of four boys, naturally making him his mother’s favorite – if you could call it that much. She just scolded and shamed him the least. Not only did she resent his father, but she resented her sons. They all wanted to be sailors, and that’s all they ever cared to be. By the time her youngest had made up his mind that he would spend his days on the water, she had accepted that this was what they all wanted. She gave up trying to convince them otherwise and became a chronic alcoholic. Her life had been a failure in her eyes, but the sailor never understood what was so wrong about their way of life. She had never told the boys she loved them, and on the last day, he saw his mother, she didn’t even say bye. She was where she normally was, passed out on the ground by the furnace. This didn’t bother the sailor in any way, but he had considered what life might have looked like if his mother had chosen to love her family for who they were instead of scorning them for not being who she wanted them to be. He laughed to himself as he ate the fish and thought of his mother. She had never recommended that they do something else, just anything but becoming worthless sailors like their father.

The sea would, on very rare occasions, become lonely. Whenever this occurred, the sailor would simply spend a night in a tavern in the nearest village, drinking with fellow sailors, telling tales of their travels. They spoke of run-ins with the law, pirates, and sea monsters. The sailor enjoyed the stories of the sea monsters the most, as he knew no such things existed. Monsters had to be scary to truly be monsters (otherwise, they were just sea creatures), and this sailor didn’t fear anything because he did not fear death. Death to him was merely another part of life. As long as he died on the ocean, he would die a happy man.

After his dinner, he boiled some water and decided that tonight would be a good night to finish off the last of his liquor reserves. As the orange horizon turned to a dark blue, he watched as the moon and stars appeared in the sky. Every night, he would find his favorite constellations and even make new ones of his own. The more he drank, the more fun this was, as more interesting backstories for these new celestial patterns came after lots of booze. His favorite of his creations, Selena, was particularly bright tonight. As he lay on his back, rocking back and forth with the waves, he not only talked to his constellations, but they talked to him. They told him stories of Vikings and dragons, mermaids and pirates, and golems and ghosts. He lived in the heavens and in the depths of the sea, these were his home.

Selena, his favorite, consisted of fourteen stars. They were not always all visible, but usually at least half. Selena was a siren with long, dark hair and a longer, darker tail. Her thin stature was impressively strong. Millennia of swimming through roaring waves and traversing the cosmos proved this, at least in his mind. Tonight, he spoke to Selena of his greatest wish. To meet the real her. Although he knew that he had created this figure in his own head, she was his best friend. Almost every night when he spoke to her, he longed for her physical companionship. He longed to see her long, dark hair and longer, darker tail that he had conjured up in his very mind. He knew it was unrealistic, no, he knew it was insane to wish such things. Yet his mind continued to long for this celestial siren.

He drank and drank, as sailors do, singing songs, as sailors do, until he passed out cold on the deck, as sailors do. When he rose, the sea was still calm, yet the sky was grey and full of clouds. He was obviously experienced and understood the signs. Looking around, in search of land for shelter he recognized no waves. He saw no signs of life or land anywhere around him. The wind had not yet quickened. He knew he was just experiencing the calm before the storm. Storms had never particularly frightened this sailor. He lived on the water and therefore had dealt with his fair share of the sea’s anger. For the first time, he had a bad feeling about what was coming. He began to laugh. Not giggle, not chuckle, he began to laugh. To howl, to roar.

“How exciting!” he yelled to no one. For the first time, the man was concerned. Was it for his life? His ship? The sailor himself had no clue, yet he was prepared for the challenge at hand.

As he was making preparations to the Phantom, preparing the sails, checking the anchor, and dressing for the unavoidable downpour, he heard a voice. He questioned himself,

“It must be the anxiety of the storm,” he thought and continued preparing. He heard it again. And again. And again. It was the voice of a woman, a woman singing. The winds had quickened by now, the waves had grown, and his fear had rose. The singing only grew louder and louder as the storm neared. He ran around the edges of his boat, frantically, trying to validate what he thought to be auditory hallucinations. With the waves crashing at the side of his ship, he could not trust any movement he saw in the water to truly be movement. That is, until he saw a dark, long tail above the waves, diving into the water. The singing grew louder. Not so much singing at this point, more shrieking of a sound than anything else, but angelic shrieking, nonetheless. At least to him. He believed his dreams to be coming true. He believed Selena had heard him, that she was real, that she had come to him today. He had heard the stories of the irresistible sirens, and how they feasted on whole ships of men. This sailor, however, did not fear death, and considered this to be a splendid way to go. Better than by a storm at least. The tail had disappeared however, and the singing had stopped. Well, the shrieking had stopped anyways. He began to panic. Had he missed his chance of meeting her? To see her celestial face? The storm was now raging, but he hadn’t noticed. He continued to frantically pace around the edges of the Phantom, looking for any sign of the creature.

“Where are you?! Why would you leave me?!” he wept to the sea. He continued to yell and plea, with God, with the sea, and with Selena. In tears, he began to often lose his balance, stumbling and falling all over the deck. By the time he had given up and chosen to focus on the well-being of his ship, the singing began once again. Well, the shrieking began once again. Back he ran to the edges of the Phantom, following the voice in hopes of seeing a sign of something, anything. The same long, dark tail poked out of a distant wave once again. Without thought or hesitation, the sailor dove towards it, with no regard for life, his ship, or anything else in the world. He had one dream and would follow it. It was not a conscious decision, but one his heart was happy with.

His eyes were open, yet he could see nothing under the waves. They carried him, he knew not where to, tossing and turning him up and down and all around. He was completely disoriented, not knowing up from down. The sea was the strongest force he had ever felt, stronger than his mother’s judgment, stronger than his own desires. It brought him along its path, not intentionally, or at least he thought. He was just in the way of the water’s destination. The shrieking never quieted. Actually, it grew louder. So loud to the point of piercing his eardrums causing excruciating pain. He felt the pain. But he also felt the force of the water. And he felt the lack of air in his lungs. Not only did he feel those things, but he felt her claws dig into his ankle through his trousers. At least he knew which way was up now. Opposite where he and the creature were headed.

He felt his lungs collapsing. He had been underwater for, well, who knows how long. It felt as if it was a lifetime. His eyes stayed open, but he still couldn’t see, that is, until he could. Her magnificently long and dark hair reached almost halfway down her longer, darker tail. They were both blacker than the sky he spoke to daily. Her skin was paler than the moon and stars he had grown so close to over the years. She reminded him of the three. The sky, the stars, and the moon. So far in the opposite direction, an angel of the heavens, a traveler of the cosmos, lingering so far in the depths of blue. He did not know how he could see now or what made it different. He could not see much, only her pulling him further and further beneath the storm. They stopped. He was almost out of air. It felt as if he had been out of air for at least a minute now. The life within him was fading quickly. She swam fast, and they were far, far, below the surface. He had no hopes of return. He just hoped to see her face. And he did. She let go of his ankle and blood continued to pour out of the wound. He floated in the water, weightless, as she turned around and swam upwards to meet him face to face. She looked how he expected her to. Beautiful, in his eyes. Realistically, terrifying, but maybe that’s all beauty is. Her eyes were but slits of yellow, and long white fangs poked out of her almost non-existent lips. They both floated there now. The colossal body of water seemed like a void. Like nothingness and extreme vastness all at once. As the life faded from his body, he felt his last sensation on his lips. The siren put hers to his, breathing the life of the sea into him. His vision became clearer, his gills filled with air, and his consciousness re-appeared. They sang with passion and swam deeper into the blue to meet the others.

-

The two stared in awe at the massive web spun by the massive spider. Neither of them had seen a species like this before, not even in their textbooks. The intricacies of the patterns intrigued their minds so much that their guards had both slipped for a moment. Luckily, no large cats, snakes, or tribesmen were waiting in the trees this time. As they came closer, the web only became more and more beautiful. Spanning between two massive trees, nearly anything in this almost two-meter diameter would be this newly discovered species’ meal for the day. Well, newly discovered to them. Their guide, however, had known of this very spider and this very web.

“It is one of three places this one goes to catch its prey. It is consistent and the spider sees no need for change when feeding is good.”

“Why would it? Amazing. I’ve never seen a web come anywhere close to this size. And definitely not a spider.”

“Obviously quite intelligent as well.”

“And large.”

It crept from around the tree on the right where its web was connected. About the size of a sloth, and the color of one too, it moved at about the same pace and gradually made its way toward the poor little bird caught in the middle of its enormous web.

As the scientists continued through the jungle, they observed their guide. They noticed how he navigated, using every living thing in the environment to assist in his decision making. If certain birds were heard, that meant certain snakes would be nearby and that meant to well…watch out for snakes. The two researchers understood the danger of their expedition but felt comfortable in the jungle. Their guide not only knew the jungle, he was a part of it. A part of it just as much as the newfound spider, the bird it ate, and the snake that missed out on a highly nutritious bird.

The expedition did not necessarily have a specific goal. The goal of the scientists was to see amazing creatures and a lush green environment, such as this vast jungle with their own two eyes and to record their findings. Along the way, goals developed, they found things they wanted to know more about, but most importantly, their love for mother earth grew tremendously. Their lives were dedicated to the study of the natural world and the lives of the non-humans living in it. Humans were great, yes, but humans were greedy and served their own purposes. In their eyes, every piece of nature gladly played their role in the workings of their environment, and the scientists found this to be honorable and good. They were fascinated by the dedication each living thing showed throughout their lives and thought they could learn from it. Their guide thought the same. Well, the guide knew this as fact, as he had spent his entire life living in this jungle. The guide loved this jungle with his whole heart and hoped to never be separated from it. As they made their way through the thick trees, eventually they came upon a wide rushing river. The guide’s boat was there, right where he left it tied to a rock and the three got in.

As they crossed the river, the sun shone strongly upon them. The thickness of the trees typically shaded the group significantly. The sun now hit their skin with the might of God. It gave them life, nourishment, and energy. The sun grew this dense jungle over the course of time and would continue to fuel the green and everything inside of it. Yes, the sun was hot, and could make their travels quite difficult. But without it, they would not be having travels at all.

When they got to the other side of the river, their guide warned them that they were entering a known panther territory and to keep their machetes close. They had been keeping their machetes close since they stepped foot in the jungle, but nevertheless, they appreciated the advice. Once they were out of the boat, the guide tied it to a nearby rock with the same rope he had used on the other side.

Continuing their journey, the guide began to tell the two scientists a story.

“Long ago, ancient warrior tribesmen would make the very trek we are making now. Once they turned the age of sixteen, they were required to make a pilgrimage to the sacred temple of the panther, in the heart of this jungle. Nobody knows exactly how long it has been there or what lays inside the temple. Well, besides the High Shaman of the temple, who is said to be immortal and the watcher of this jungle. That’s why this is panther territory. The panthers are here for his protection. And he is here for theirs. Legend says that the Shaman maintains the spiritual balance of all life in this jungle. Holding it sacred, restoring what is broken, and cultivating all the life which we have seen”

“If the Shaman is immortal, why are the panthers here for his protection? A scientist cut in.

“He’s immortal because he has the panthers here for protection. It is said that the Shaman has found the key to immortality through his soul, warding off all natural causes of death such as old age and sickness. However, the Shaman has left his physical body vulnerable to acts of violence, as acts of violence are how all creatures survive in this jungle. The food chain. You scientists should know that. The panthers are also said to have the souls of the ancient warrior tribesmen, who’s pilgrimage to the temple was successful. The panthers can sense malevolence and seek out those who mean to cause the Shaman harm. Typically, they won’t bother those who don’t. Typically. It really depends on if they have eaten that day or not.”

“How can we find the Shaman?”

“You don’t,” answered the guide. “He finds you. That is, if you truly need his guidance.”

They continued forward, searching for species, taking notes, and drawing pictures, while always having an eye out for panthers. When the two finished up a sketch and discussion of a particular tree frog they were observing. They turned around, expecting to see their guide as they always have. Much to their surprise, he had vanished. They called out to him and searched for him profusely to no avail. The two stuck close together while searching for their companion, now afraid the other would vanish as well. What was once a cautious comfort quickly turned into panicking fear. They were smart, yes, and seasoned explorers, but they were out of their element. Deep in a jungle that they were not confident in navigating their way out of.

After about an hour of silent searching, the two began to lose hope. They were worried for their guide. Had something or someone got to him without their noticing? No, this man was experienced, he would not go silently either. But would he abandon them? Had he sold them out to some tribesmen for trade? They had no conclusion, but it was time to forget their guide and focus on getting out of the jungle alive.

Immediately following this decision, they turned to get back to the river when they saw a panther standing patiently in their path. It looked hungry. Its yellow eyes teeming with lust for meat froze the two in their tracks. The panther began to walk calmly and slowly towards the pair with its head low to the ground. It looked as if it were stalking the two, but it had already made itself known. Neither scientist could reach for their weapon. They were paralyzed in fear, their minds were racing, thinking of all the things they’d wished they had done with their lives instead of traversing this deadly jungle. Neither were married nor had children. When this panther was through with its meal, no one would remember the two. This expedition was their plan to build a legacy for themselves. To discover new species in a remote part of the world no modern researcher would dare to travel. The panther crept closer and closer until it was right in front of the scientists who were standing side by side in a small clearing. They were shaking and the panther sensed their worries. The panther purred as it made its way past the middle of them. It was not uninterpreted however, as the presence of this passing made them think of the story their disappearing guide had told them. Without saying a word to each other, they silently followed the panther on its path as they both separately felt called to do so.

After strolling behind the panther for a few miles, it led them down a valley where they came across a stone pyramid. A smaller pyramid, yet still quite impressive. It sat in the middle of a massive clearing with tall palm trees circled around it. Before the pyramid and before the circle of trees stood two stone pillars. A figure was seated on the ground between these pillars. The moment the explorers saw this figure, they understood what had occurred over the last few hours. The small, hooded figure in robes of red, gestured the two to sit in front of him and handed each a bamboo bowl filled with a dark brown, sap like substance. No words had been spoken, yet they both bowed simultaneously, accepting the bowls from the Shaman, and consuming the liquid in a few big gulps.

Their ears rang. Their hearts felt as if they would burst from their chest. The world had become bright, as had their souls when they spoke to the panther sitting across from them. But they didn’t speak, they purred, they roared. What once was a frail, wrinkled, hooded figure was now a colossal glowing purple panther, the size of the temple itself, brimming with holy energy. They had never felt such love. What they came to find was legacy and what had come upon them were the answers to the questions they needed to build their legacy. Who they are, who they were to be, and who guided them to this point. The panthers ventured out into the jungle to find what was meant for them in their new home.

-

The camel and the panthers became good friends, always on the move, and always protecting the one important to them. The sailor and the boy bonded over their truest passion of adventure and companionship. The siren and woman enjoyed finding those they were meant to help. All their travels ultimately lead to the same final destination where they ventured together forever. These people and these creatures saw each other in everything they did from now on and for eternity. Love had shown them purpose and that purpose was love itself. We are all these creatures, yes, you reading this, and me writing this. Our paths are carved in different manners, through different places, and with different people, but we can experience each other if we look far enough into ourselves. One day, we may all meet and share the stories that make us the same. So, love each other, because each one of you is an extension of me as I am an extension of you. We are all family. The sailors, the camels, the sirens, the panthers, the scientists, the mystics, the nomads, the sun, the moon, and the stars. We are all just a piece of this grand puzzle and you have a place to fit.