Challenge: What reveals and obscures?
Answer: A storm.

Those simple paradoxes had been taught to each Fremen in their sietch school. Now, however, they triggered a moment of adab, the demanding memory, for Ahmina when she looked at the new landscape of dunes stretching to the horizon that was the open desert of the Funeral Plain. Memories of her brother struck and wouldn't release her easily.

None of the dunes was alike those she could remember from two days ago, before a storm came. It hadn't been a great mother storm, but it cleansed the desert anyway. To the south, she saw sparkles... it was Lake Azrak, the gypsum plain, a place called Biyan. It was said that they who saw the white sands were inviting a two-edged wish upon themselves to come to fulfilment soon, giving with the right hand and the left hand...

But Ahmina had been told that gypsum, and salt for the matter, were the signs that there had been open water on Dune... once. It was unimaginable in the very direct sense: there was no way for her to picture this much water, it seemed ridiculous, even when Cybilus had spoken of oceans of his world. But Liet believed in it, that it could again be. And Ahmina believed Liet, as did Stilgar, who had known Liet's father, and as did his sietch, that was now on the other end of the shadowed erg. Before her were the caves of the Plaster Basin, where it was much easier to believe in The Dream.

The Maker had departed, and the last stretch to the rocks and the gap she would have to cross herself. Mudir Nahya was sending many patrols again, it was not safe for sandriders so close to the Shield Wall. But she had to come. Liet had sent a cielago to Sietch Tabr calling for her.

She wished she could indulge in more memory but time was precious...and she was curious. The Visionnary had called for her and she just had to find out why. A mission, perhaps? Probably?

The young woman crouched, feeling the ground beneath her feet as she observed the stretch. She would not take too long, however for prudence was only wise if it did not impede proper action.

She stepped forward as the fremen do: unheard and unseen by the patrols around or the makers below.

She walked without rhythm so as not to alert any worm, masking her prints as she walked. They would have stood out on a desert made afresh. There was a batch of drum sand she had to circumvent before she got to the rocks, and by the time she got there the catchpockets on her thighs had already started sloshing lightly with the water of her body the stillsuit had reclaimed. She had been watched, of course.

She could fool the patrols of the outsiders with some ease for they never seemed to know what to look for as they searched the horizon. The fremen watchers...that was another matter but also a beneficial one.

She knew they could recognize another of their kin even at that distance by movement alone

Still she kept an eye out

None of the watchers came forth to greet her; if she was who she was expected to be, she would know the way past the camouflage, to the deep gorge and its sealed warrens.

But what greeted her was... a change of air, slightly more moist, a weird must feeling on the mouth. The background hum wasn't from the windtrap, but from a wasp, and she could spot some semi-dried pockets of poverty grass, alfalfa, and creosote nestling amid the rocks. There were of course scorpions, but they posed no danger as she had learned how to deal with them at the age of three. There was life here - concealed, shy, cautious - but it was just a portent for what awaited her deeper in the gorge.

Even in the most desolate places life still finds a way to adapt in survive.

'There was wisdom to learn form the smallest of things for they often are the most resilient' she was often told when young...well...younger

She did not hesitate and moved forward, deeper in, relying on muscle and brain memory to find the way

Past the entrance she had eventually found were the moist seals, and odours of the sietch struck her nose immediately, the acrid concoction of scents than spoke of familiarity, urine, flint, spice fiber, with a waft of deeper moisture coming from basins deep beneath her feet. She was used to tell them apart; the nose was all-important for the Fremen, as evil always portended itself by foul smell. Here, no smell was foul, but the humidity signalled to her that the Dream was real.

She was greeted by Liet-chih, the stepson of Liet, from the first marriage of Faroula with Warrick, Liet's legendary friend who had survived the storm in the open desert, though she was never told how Warrick had eventually died. Liet-chih was named in honour of Liet, but they weren't as close as Liet and Chani, who was of Sietch Tabr.

"Good fortune to us all, Ahmina. Don't relax your stillsuit just yet, Liet is waiting for you at the plantings." He knew her name, though they weren't too familiar with each other. He had joined his water with Abumojandis' Sietch in the Habbanya Erg when he married and he was rarely in these parts as Abumojandis and Stilgar weren't at the best of terms. The stillsuit hood was already on his head but she knew his hair were dark and curly, unlike Liet's. Or Chani's.

''Subakh un nar Liet-chich?'' she greeted, her stillsuit untouched and ready to go ''He is waiting for me? Do you know what this is about?''

"Liet knows things I don't know." Even for his stepson, he wasn't 'father', but Liet. Even though Liet-chih had been very small when Warrick had died, and it was a Fremen thing to treat prior children of your wife as your own. It might have been a sign of estrangement, but it was very unlikely. His words didn't hide supreme confidence in Liet's judgement, and humble deference that followed. "But he returned from Arrakeen three days ago, so it may be offworld matters."

''Then it must be very important if he would make the journey'' she replied with a mirrored confidence in the man she herself considered to be a prophet from the makers ''We must not let him wait Liet-chich. I will follow you''

"He's told me to return to Habbanya, so I am going where you've come from, to call the Maker." He turned to show her the way, roughly. "Follow the moisture, you'll find him."

She nodded fervently

''I shall do so. Sallamaka al-lahu wa-nasaraka Liet-chich''

She said as a goodbye then she went on her way

Past the exit seal, she entered the place that was holy, an antechamber to paradise.

A narrow canyon that to any thopter would look no more like an empty crevasse from above bulged down into a shaded space lined with trees - trees! - shrubs and bushes along a shimmering qanat dwindling deeper into the darker, cavernous endings. Ahmina could walk by date palms, tamarisks, cypresses, even strange conifers she might learn were called dwarf pines. Her steps needed to be guarded for she could step on grass! Insects buzzing, they flew so densely they seemed like a rain of sand. The most curious of all was a small tree that carried round fruit on its branches, as orange as the sun.

Liet approached her with his trademark, reserved smile that was more in the bright eyes than on the lips.

"Subakh ul kuhar, Ahmina. These are portyguls. You can have one." He reached out to collect it with care, than presented it to the woman. "They are best eaten fresh."

She had moved carefully. Not only out of care but also out of wonder...to her who had lived all her life in the sandy wastes of Arrakis this place seemed to be like a pocket of paradise.

A seed of miracle for her world!

''Subakh un nar, Liet'' at his offer her eyes grew wide ''...I...but...I...'' she bowed her head ''I have not done anything to be worthy of such honor!''

Liet chuckled. He had an aura of casual optimism about him; he often dismissed trivial concerns and didn't explain his casual curtness, nor did he finish thoughts he didn't want to be phrased. He was a generalist, and for him loose edges of reality were part of the pattern, and was bending them according to necessity. These qualities made him both relatable for the Fremen but also strange, a practitioner of something that the ancient Fremen called rihani magic, as he was the purveyor of oddness-come-flesh, as everything around Ahmina testified.

"Ah, my Fremen are wonderful. They are the only people in the whole Imperium that understand the difference between desiring a thing and not reaching for it for centuries. This supreme patience is our strength, but once in a while even you, Ahmina, have to be reminded of the taste of our dream. Think of it as a moment of sietch comfort, like that time when you were small and caught the little makers for the deathstill, but not before draining them from their sweet syrup."

He nodded to her. "People are not the agents of ecology by standing outside of it, but by their presence within it. There are seeds in this portygul. Maybe you can make them grow near Stilgar's Sietch, in the Tuono Basin, once the poverty grass takes hold. Your body will preserve the water for the tribe."

He looked up to the slit of the top of the gorge from which sun was getting in. "Here, first portyguls had been planted by by father. He died here, in a cave-in, probably collecting some of them. At that time, they could only grow in caves. Now we have them here, almost in the open."

''...being part of it...'' she whispered as she reached for the alien fruit and turned it around...and around...and around...visibly having to idea how to eat it as it was too large for her mouth.

In the end she just tried to take a bite

"You have to peel it first. But that can wait. I have news for you, Ahmina."

Liet paused. His voice didn't change, for he seemed permanently freed from grave thoughts by the clarity with which he perceived the necessities of life and ecological non-finality of death.

"Your friend is coming to Dune. This time in different capacity, and in company. The Imperium has sent a mission to try to censure the Harkonnen. I don't believe in its success, the Harkonnen crimes have long been known to the Emperor on Kaitain, I once delivered the account to him myself but was ignored. All he likely seeks is an excuse to do something that serves him. His lackeys and spies will come and go, and we shall remain to fight the enemy."

He stepped into the shadow as the sun pierced the reflective plaz above them.

"But in this small battle we have stakes. I want you to go to the Graben, to Arrakeen, and make yourself a guide to your friend in his role on this mission. Be my eyes and ears, and advise your friend on ways that can hurt the Harkonnen most. But there will be the Emperor's soldiers there, the Sardaukar, and I don't want them to be interested in ways we fight, so be discreet with your skill. When they will be at the water-wasting mansion, Mapes will help you in, as servant."

The pause immediately drew her attention and she listened carefully.

''None shall see me if I do not wish it so. Your will shall be done, Liet.'' she stated as fact ''The Dream will not be stopped''

"It will not, because of men and women like you. The Fremen are any planetologist's wet dream." He chuckled at his own joke. "The people of the Imperium think of themselves as separate from nature. Dune dooms that hubris."

He looked at a wall of crumbled stone where lichens nowe grew. It had probably sealed a grotto once. "My father, Umma Kynes, would have been delighted to see your generation. Belief can be shaken, but a habit to nurture life that is as strong as breathing and sipping from your catch tubes..."

He patted her arm.

"My part shouldn't be known. I won't show myself to the men of this mission, so you are my hidden hand in this. But we are getting some surprises ready, for Mudir Nahya to choke on his anger and for those people of the Imperium to think about how things are on Dune. I have sent out the sandriders, and razzias shall happen in all places. That shall put you in danger, Ahmina."

She narrowed her eyes...not sure of the meaning of a 'wet dream'. Peharps he was speaking of his vision of the future? She couldn't know for she was not wise in the ways of magicians like Liet

At the talk of danger brought a zeal that hardened her features

''Danger is known to me. Tell me what to do and I shall do it...tell me what to look for and I shall search for it...tell me who to kill and the carrions will feast''

"A cielago may reach you now and then, but you'll be mostly on your own, Ahmina. For this mission, think like an arifa."

The world used meant 'judge', but it connoted much more. It was a Fremen distinction for those who were able to make hard choices of life and death, those able to choose lesser evil for the preservation of the tribe because they realised that good deeds may create terrible fates for their kin. It was a responsibility to contain evil to oneself.

Her hands were wrapped around the sun-colored fruit like it was the most important thing in the world

''I will do so. When does the outlanders arrive? What should I prepare and learn before I go to the city?''

"In a few days. You still have some time. Prepare for dealing with offworlders. They are different people as you know, softer, more convoluted, mincing words and not knowing the ways of the desert. They may appear fools to you, but don't offend them. The longer and closer you stay with them, the more we can do about their pursuits."

''Very well...I will not underestimate them but let them underestimate me''

Liet nodded. "Sallamaka al-lahu wa-nasaraka."