a/n: Written in 2010. Title obviously ripped off from either Bradbury or Teasdale, whichever you prefer.

Having not watched Brotherhood, I'm not sure if it's Lan Fan or Ran Fan these days. But Ran Fan was how I wrote her in 2010, and Ran Fan she will remain.

Their water-casks ran empty on the fourth night of their journey through the desert, one of them having sprung a leak the day before and the other having already been drained dry by their thirst. With a quick, sharp motion, Ran Fan sawed through the rope tying the broken cask to the mare's back and, steadying it as it wobbled, lowered it to the ground. The fracture that ran along the side of the barrel was thin, unobtrusive enough to be missed even under full sunlight if one didn't know it was there. Even so, she should have noticed it during her watch. If only she'd been a little more vigilant, she thought, hands tightening into fists.

"Ah," a voice said from behind her, "that's not good."

Only force of habit kept her from starting; her master had always been quiet on his feet back in their village, a skill he had used to pull all sorts of mischievous pranks when he was younger, and now with sand underfoot, he was silence personified. Standing beside her now with his arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the empty cask. In the dim light, she could see an uncharacteristic look of concern flit across his face.

Ran Fan averted her gaze. "Master," she said, "I have no excuse. You entrusted me to watch over our supplies and I – "

"It's fine, Ran Fan," he said. His laugh, as always, came easily as he crouched down beside the barrel. "Bad luck. Not even Fuu would've noticed."

"Nevertheless," she said.

"Yes," he said, "nevertheless," and fell silent, fingering the crack in the wood.

By now, the sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon, so that only a sliver showed above the sand dunes, each dotted with prickly shrubs and bushes. Sand all around, she thought, and no sign of water. It was so different from home. They had lived on the windward side of the mountains in Xing, so that it frequently rained on their village. Here, though, the likelihood of rainfall was slim at best.

As was their chance of survival, ever decreasing the longer they tarried.

"It is not too late to turn back," she finally said. The words tasted thick and sour in her mouth despite their truth. Indeed, if they began retracing their trail now, they would be able to make it back to the last town in roughly a day and a half. Two days, at most.

Her master made an absent sound and stood up again, squinting at the far horizon. "True, we'd be able to refill our water supply, and maybe exchange these horses for camels." He frowned. "I knew we should have bought camels for the first half of the trip. They don't need as much water. But try telling that to Fuu."

"We would not have been able to put enough distance between us and the assassins were it not for the horses."

"And if we retrace our steps," he said, "we may run into them on the way back."

He was right, of course. He was rarely wrong about these things, she had learned. He had an uncanny sense for danger, having picked it up over the years, no doubt due to all the attempts made on his life. And yet – and yet, Ran Fan hesitated, unsure.

"It would be unwise, as Young Master says," she said, after a moment, "but it would also be unwise to continue on with so little water."

"Fuu said the next oasis town is only a few days away," he said, stepping forward to soothe the tethered mare. He patted her on the side, then stroked her face as she snorted into his ear. "Our water skins are half-full."

And half-empty. Just enough to get them back to the previous town before they became too weak to fight from dehydration. But she held her tongue. She had already voiced her misgivings, and the decision was his to make.

As if he sensed her thoughts, he gave the mare one final pat on her flank before turning to smile at her. It was comforting despite their situation, and she wondered how he did it, how he managed to always smile as if nothing were wrong with the world. As if the emperor were not sick, as if they'd never grown up and had to shoulder such responsibilities.

"Come, let's get going when Fuu comes back," he said, striding past her in the direction of their camp. "We'll trust to luck. Since it's so rotten today, maybe something will happen tomorrow to make up for it."

She watched his back – broad shoulders, strong and lean like the boughs of a tree, sturdy enough to hold so many burdens without buckling – and hesitated, just for a second. Her doubts still ran strong, but it was her master's decision. Her duty was to obey, she reminded herself, not to question, and though she couldn't bring herself to hold such faith as he did, she did trust him.

And so she bowed her head and followed. When her grandfather returned, they set off, traveling beneath the cool light of the moon with the wind blowing the sand into their eyes and nostrils. With her chin tucked in close to her chest, Ran Fan let her horse guide the way, and it was only when her master shouted a word over the sound of the wind that she raised her head and heard, soft but present, the rumble of thunder off in the distance.