Three men sat at the small fire, keeping away the night-time chill. The lands around them were a barren shroud of dust, and only the corpse of Lord Moon stared down at them. A pale wind whispered bitterly across the forsaken land. The foothills of mountains streched away, growing to scratch at teh eyes of the heavens. Two of the men were bushi, although traveling different roads. The third was a peasant, heading South to escape the war. Seeking human company in which to pass the haunted night, they paused upon their travels. Sharing rice, and tea, and inconsequential pleasantries, the three lapsed into silence while the sun had long set, and Lord Moon had clawed his way up the side of the sky.
To drown the silence of the night, the first bushi turned to the peasant, and spoke. "You said that you come from the lands north of Beiden Pass... " The bushi looked to have traveled for many days without stopping. His bulky armour was ragged and smeared with the dust of the road. The hakamido was assembled from whatever was ready to hand, but the mon of the Mantis Clan showed plainly.
The peasant replied quickly, so as to avoid causing offense. this was no place to draw the ire of strange samurai. "Hai. I have seen three armies rage across the Lion's lands with my own eyes. My home was trampled underfoot, and so I travel away from the destruction, seeking to begin my life again. My wife's family lives south of these provinces... Ah, you would not understand my troubles samurai. You seek to know how the armies fare, neh?"
The bushi was willing to overlook the possible slight to his honour. He would rather have news of his Lord's army, than to spend the dark night in the company of a peasant's corpse. He nodded.
The peasant sipped his tea. "There are three armies, and none of them belong to my Lord. I left that place behind me three days ago, traveling with the speed of an unencumbered man. The armies will not have travelled far. I would take another route than the pass, if you travel north, samurai.
"The Emperor's magistrates trample the fields with pale steeds, casting strange magics into the ranks of the invaders. Dark magics that smelled of rotting earth. My humble farm was burned by samurai, that none would have its remains. We escaped the fire, and ran South.
"We were found by a Crane army as we reached the mountains. My wife and children are dead.
"I seek to find a place where there are no more armies."
Again, the bushi allowed the heimin his outburst. He was no Lion, to rail at the slightest hint of defiance. The peasant, perhaps, had reason to be angry. Let it rest. There are times, the bushi thought, when honour must be set aside.
The wind whispered again, like a dying thing, pleading to the fire to comfort its last breaths. Words followed upon words. This was no place to sleep. Stories turned to tales of ghosts and creatures of the woods, fox-tricks, goblins. Tales to keep one awake at night.
Beyond the circle of fire light, nothing lived. The world stopped, and the realm of ghosts began. Tea became sake, and speech turned to the sighing lands around them. Tales of Scorpion deceit, the coup, the Clan Wars. The bushi told the peasant of the time of the Thunders, the Emperor Toturi, the banishment of the Scorpion.
Long after Lord Moon had pusued his shining bride beyond the horizon, in the cold light before dawn, when one cannot yet tell black armour from white upon a distant hillside, the peasant rose to leave. He gathered his tiny bundle, and stood. The Mantis bushi stood also, and from his purse drew a full koku, offering three times before the peasant would accept.
"Use this to begin your new life. I thank you for the information you have given me."
With the first pale arms of dawn creeping above the mountains, the peasant bowed low, and walked away from his past. He wore no mask, but as he left, he looked over his shoulder to where the fire burned low. "Not all the Scorpion have gone, you know. Go swiftly to your Lord."
The Mantis took one step toward the distant peasant, then stopped. He stared briefly into the embers of their night's companion, and turned into the foothills, toward the mountains. He would reach the pass with tomorrow's light, and then...
Alone, the third bushi silently looked to the West, into the distance beyond the flat horizon. As Lady Amaterasu shed her last veil and strode into the sky, he flared into a golden light. Then, as a mist upon the river burns away with the first light of morning, the smiled, and was gone.