As in myth, we were crouched together behind an L planter in the courtyard of a forgotten city; huddled close in the midst of a crimson sandstorm. "It's a moral question, isn't it..." he said with a smile. In the distance, with my thermal scope, I could see a fellow guardian trudging defiant and alone through the sands of a martian dune. I wondered if Noa felt that way inside. Even under his bloodsoaked cowl and rebreather mask, I could see his reluctant smile; or rather, I could hear it in the 'I've got you now' tone in his voice. "Yes," I replied, "but in the ancient Bible didn't God command Adam to name the ani...?” I was cut off by the nearby crack of a Fallen captain’s rifle. They could see us. I felt it, even in the thick of the storm, I knew... “Comparing the Traveler to God is a fool’s mistake; one is all too real, the other, a fairy tale, conjured up to manipulate the general population. You’re not saying you believe that stuff?” Noa commented uncomfortably. I knew this is where I could beckon him to think about what the Traveler really meant to humanity. I started to speak, but he interrupted me again; “What I’m saying is, I don’t think it’s right that we be told by our ruler, and by extension I believe, the Traveler, that we will become legend if we blindly follow his advice. It gives us a false hope; reduces Guardians to pawns. I mean think about it, why haven’t we tried diplom...” “CRAAACK” The hot slug cut through his abdomen, spilling Noa’s guts all over the ground and soaking my kneepad with his warm blood. “You are.” I whispered. Only tricks of the Traveler could fill this void.