A Traveler, Moving with the Wind I [Closed]

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 83, 511 AV "We aren't going much further. The wind's picking up," her brother said, placing a steady hand on his horse. The beast neighed as the man surveyed the bleak area. A few trees labored in what once was the bed of what was once river, and now only a coffin of broken trees and bleached rocks. He jerked his head toward the place. "Let's go there." Reshimi barely had time to nod her head in agreement before the small troupe set off. She huffed, and her mother guided her own horse over. "What plagues your mind?" she questioned, raising a brow. He mother was once a beautiful storyteller, and she passed much of her knowledge on to her daughter. Both women were Abayla, keepers of their Chaktawe history, and they made a frightful comparison near each other. One, full of potential and ready to experience life. The other, travel-worn and tired, living the rest of her days in memory. Reshimi was the youngest of several children and struggled closely for survival with her mother. She grew old and Reshimi grew up. They knew each other well. "I'm fine," she snapped. It had been a week and one day since her family began travels from the Redstone Cliffs, bidding farewell to her favorite camp ground. She was irritable and just wanted to arrive at Yahebah, trade excess beads and trinkets, and sip some tea. Her mother pursed her lips, saying nothing as they descended into the shallow riverbed and quickly pieced her tent together, with the ease of years of practice. As they worked in companionable silence, the sun dropped behind the empty horizon. She reassured her stead before placing her belongings within the temporary structure. Wrapping her fur blanket around her broad shoulders, Reshimi emerged from her decorated home and joined the family circle around the fire. It was a bitingly chilly night, with hollow wind blowing in intervals, and the woman was glad for the warmth of the small fire. Her brother's wife took the empty spot next to her, wrapping an arm through her crooked one with a grin. "Come, let me under. It's chilly!" "I don't think there's enough room for all three," she teased, patting the other's increasingly large mid-drift. Her brother was waiting for his third child, while Reshimi staved off marriage with more desperate excuses. "Then you'll just have to find something else!" "That doesn't seem right!" "Take care of the pregnant woman!" Reshimi grumbled. "Don't you have a husband for this?" Shelliah gave a drastic sigh, finally snagging a decent piece of the blanket. "You know how he can be." With a stare across the flames at her brother, she nodded. "Don't I know it."

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 83, 511 AV The past eight seasons had seen the growth of a subdued hate toward her brother. She had been with her father, traversing the many caves and surprising terrain of the Redstone Cliffs in search of goats, both to sell and to eat. It was dull, but pleasing to spend time with her aging father, listening to his tales and telling her own. Almost suddenly, they happened upon a bleating female, perched on a rock. Silent and stealthily, they crept on the mammal; her father claimed she was pregnant - a rare find. Reshimi did not question how he knew, only that he did. Another was stalking the same goat, and their unified attack caused the animal to flee, leaving both parties at a loss. Reshimi and her father glared at his passive face. By his dress and coloring, Reshimi could tell he was Benshira. She supposed he could deduce the same from the father and daughter. If they had just accepted the mistake, nothing would have gone wrong. But her father, worried about his family and with a mean season soon approaching, became unduly angry. He accused the Benshira, who placidly returned his indescribable shouting. But her father was a mean one, and soon a shoving match ensued. One well placed push sent her father tumbling off the small ledge, falling to a quick death. Of the Benshira, stumbling wide-eyed and shouting pleas of forgiveness, Reshimi paid no mind. Her attention was only toward her father; by the time she scrambled down the slope, he had left her. Reshimi returned home a wreck, the body slung over her shoulders and tears smearing her black facial paint. Afterward, she and her mother began to form closer bonds with her elder brother; soon, they were living together. But Reshimi, looking to blame someone for what she imagined was her mistake, began to hate both her brother and the Benshira. He refused to acknowledge the murder, claiming it was only an accident, and did not exact revenge. Reshimi did not view it as her place to complete the deed, and instead simmered. The Benshira were hypocrites, and her brother was a coward. Now, Reshimi heaved a heavy sigh, turning in her sleeping roll. Sleep was not coming easy tonight, especially after the large meal, fun stories, and (now) angry thoughts. Sleep, you need energy for tomorrow! she commanded herself, to no avail, and was left awake, staring at the sloped roof of her tent, until exhaustion finally pulled her eyes shut.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV Reshimi woke the next morning, groggy and bleary-eyed. Her mother, Pippiley, loomed over her."Reshimi, wake up," she leaned back as the younger woman sat up. "Shelliah is having stomach pains. We need you to go out and find fresher water." She scratched her scalp, the worry prominent in her mother's voice failing to influence her. "Good morning to you, too, Mother," she replied with a snap. Rolling from her bed, she followed Pippiley out the door. When had she begun to stoop? The previous night, their small family had only set up two tents: the rest of their tribe moved elsewhere from the Redstone Cliffs, and they had planned to meet with them later on in the season. The four adults and two children were alone in the desert, but for each other. Shelliah was prone on a pile of blankets in the second tent, her bronze face worn thin and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her husband hovered over her, a line etched deep between his brows. Even the children sat silently in the corner, barely entertained by the few beads and strings that constituted toys. Her brother looked up at the sound of the tent flap, and his voice was full of hope when he mumbled, "Sister." Lips tight, the woman motioned to leave the tent. Her brother followed her and, outside in the morning light, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was cramped in the tent, and Shelliah's pallor was oppressive. "I shouldn't have let us come," were the first angry word from her brother's mouth. "I should have listened!" "She's a few weeks too early." "Don't you think I know that?" Reshimi sighed. "She is probably just dehydrated," she reasoned. A pregnant woman, even a Chaktawe, needed more water than the average person. "I'll go out and try and find something," Reshimi promised. "You'll do that?" He gripped her upper arms. "Thank you." She nodded, patting his hand. "Now go back to your wife. She's probably more scared than you." He scurried into the tent, and Reshimi returned to her's. She needed nothing more than the sturdy clothes on her back and both her and her mother's water bags. Quickly, the sun already beating down on her back, the woman traveled down the footprint of the river with fingers outstretched and searching for any hint of water.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV The riverbed was hard under her bare feet, full of crust and the remembrance of water. Her hardened soles fared well, and she occasionally kicked a lone rock for boredom's sake and childish habit. To her right and left, the terrain was sandy and sloped easily away, gentle curves recalling the shape of the lost river. Though Reshimi had promised to find water, the woman had no idea how in such a rough environment. Never had she searched a dried riverbed for sustenance; during her treks, they were places to stop and move on, maybe even recall stories. It was never necessary, nor intelligent, to dig frantically for a well in this type of heat. The woman cursed herself and her lack of foresight. She should have a general idea. Instead, her brain buzzed with the exact wording of the Lores. They were critically important to her people, true, but in this situation ... Reshimi grabbed a hearty bush, tugging on the fragile branches. She stilled, searching desperately for a flow of water under the ground with her extra-sensory fingers. Nothing. And so she moved on, testing the ground, searching for plants, maybe even travelers. Mid-day, and the sun scorched the land with unrelenting fury. The landscape had gradually changed in her hours of walking: the edges of the river were now clear-cut walls on one side and jutted, rocky points on the other. She crouched in a crevice, enjoying a brief release in the shade. Her eyes flickered shut and her mind wandered along the border of dreamland. The suffocating heat always made her drowsy, and long moments passed as her body stilled. She sensed movement almost intuitively, her fingers twitching of their own accord as they traced the delicate movement entering into range. Suddenly alert, all promises of sleep gone, Reshimi remained still. There was something moving through the sharp outcroppings, meandering the lip of the riverbed. She saw two silhouettes, hazy with heat and bent from their heavy bags, wading through the waist-high stones. She sank deeper into her hole, eyes watchful. A woman alone was a woman dead. These were strangers, who could turn to be enemies quicker than friends. Yet an insane thought grabbed root in her mind: they would have water. Travelers or traders, Reshimi saw a chance to rob the men. Reason calmed her initial, reflexive idea; she had no weapons on her person and only a few coins sown under the lip of her pants, if she chose to trade. But they were not Benshira, that much was true. Her only advantage was the element of surprise, and their obvious exhaustion. What if they didn't have water? A thousand possibilities raged through her mind, each one as grim and grisly as the next. She was convincing herself of running and of fighting at once. But where to run? How to fight? There was no water in this godforsaken desert, and these strangers could easily be monsters in disguise. Reshimi, fearing for her life, did not move. Chancing anything but breathing, this far into the wilderness with no companionship, was suicide. She was not strong enough; she was not brave enough; she was not confident enough. Reshimi was not a fighter, and once again today she was disappointed in herself. She did not move as the pair trudged on and, only a few bells later, vanished into the terrain.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV Reshimi returned to the camp that night with only a few drops of water sloshing pathetically in her waterbag. A grim expression belied her thoughts. She slowed, approaching the ring of light radiating from a large campfire. Her people did not build fires so large, if unnecessary, and her extra senses gave testimony to visitors. The woman halted her approach. Who where they, what were they doing inside the camp, and why did her brother let them in? The woman hollered a greeting, her voice edged with worry, "I have returned safely on the wings of Eywaat!" Her mother came from a tent, a smile blossoming at the sight of her daughter. Relief flowed through Reshimi. "I welcome you home with the force of Makutsi's waters." They embraced and moved to the fire together. A third tent, smaller and less worn, had been erected. It hung in the shadows, a strange presence. "I could only find a small bit," Reshimi handed the water to her disappointed mother. "I had hoped for more, but ..." "I don't think all the rainstorms could be enough right now." She moved her lips in a quick, silent plea to Makutsi, a prayer that had already become too comfortable to say. "Mother, who are they?" She looked at the strange tent. "I'll explain in a moment." Pippiley brought the water to the sickened woman, and in the meantime Reshimi settled at the fireside. Her mother returned in a moment, and immediately the barrage of questions began. "How is she?" "Not good." The woman sat. "They helped though." "Who are they?" "Travelers. They had water, asked for guidance to Yahebah for a decent amount. We didn't pry. Nashish has been worried sick." "Two?" "Yes, two men. One did the talking, and only in Common." She recalled the figures on her trek. "I believe I saw them today, around midday." Her mother nodded. "It is possible. They came just as the sun began to touch the horizion." The women were silent, staring into the flames. They spoke at once. "Are you hungry?" her mother asked. "I'm worried," Reshimi blurted. They glanced at each other with sly smiles. Pippiley rubbed her hand along her daughter's back. "I am, too. Let us pray together, and maybe Makutsi will be generous her gifts tonight."

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV They moved out of the firelight, seeking solitude in the shade. The women knelt in the cooling sand, digging their sensitive fingers deep into the ground. It was peaceful feeling, meant to lull the women into deeper prayer, for the sand blocked the shush of the wind or the brush of a feather. Eyes closed, they breathed an Abayan pattern of remembrance and tranquility. In-out-in-out, without a hitch. Her mother began an intonation. "Makutsi, pure as your crystalline water and nourishing besides, open your ears and heart to hear our plea." "Makutsi," Reshimi continued, "a mother, a sister, a wife, a daughter - a simple woman - hangs between life and between death. A delicate balance. Bless her, protect her, with all that you can." "Our love is strong, but not as strong as you. Offer us your water, give her life in these dry desert, as we give ourselves to you." The mother and daughter prayed together, until their fingers were numb from the cold and their eyes drooped with exhaustion. Only then did they resignedly pull their fingers from the sand, stand with creaking bones and moaning muscles, and trudge back to the tent.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV Sleep was unable to calm the tempest of her mind, and Reshimi was left awake, listening to her mother's soft snoring and quiet movements. She turned over, tracing the zig-zagging patters of her tent with lazy eyes. Laying here served no purpose; she better not waste her time and try to sleep. Quietly, Reshimi pushed back her covered and slip out of the tent, careful not to wake her mother. The fire had died down, and remained only a glow in the moonlight. She poked at it with a stick, drawing up nothing but red ember dust and noise. Perhaps there was more fuel? A quick search revealed an empty pile. The fire was too big before; she shook her head with disappointment and settled on the ground. She swirled her finger in the sand, replicating the flowing symbols of Makutsi. Inevitably, her thoughts were drawn back to Shelliah. She worried for her safety and the safety of her child, idly hoped Makutsi would answer the prayers, and glanced across memories of her father. "There are twigs in places, so you should be fine," she heard a voice grumble in Common. Alert now, she perked her ears to listen to the stranger's conversation as they approached. "I will not leave you, understand! Stop talking like that!" "But you don't know who - " They came into the heart of the small camp, quieting when they saw the slumped figure of Reshimi, brooding over the half-dead embers of the fire. "Hello," the first man spoke. Human, with broad shoulders and short-cropped hair, he stood proud with a wide stance. This man was a fighter, and Reshimi could barely compare this man standing before her and the weary traveler only a few bells ago. Maybe they weren't the same. The other man was stick-thin and tall, with beady eyes and long hair. Despite his height, he seemed to slouch and fold in on himself. "Greetings." She stood, as was only proper, and raised both her hands, palms out, toward them. "My name is Reshimi." They both returned the gesture, and the broader man answered. "I am Sutir, and this is Loardbel. We travel from Eloab, and beyond there." She nodded, squatting back down. "You may sit. I would say, enjoy the fire, but ..." "You're right, I feel the chill." He turned to his skinny companion. "Get some wood?" Reshimi raised her eyebrows as the man darted into the gloom and Sutir joined her. "I always need a fire," he admitted. "Did you build the one before?" He nodded, and the woman decided he was quite handsome. "Yes, it was dying." He paused. "Is that your sister?" "My brother's wife, but, yes." Awkward silence descended over them, and remained heavy until Loardbel returned, his hands full of bramble. "Will these do?" he huffed. Reshimi rose before Sutir could even think of moving. "Perfect. I will make it. Sit, sit." The man relinquished the wood to her with a small outcry, silenced easily by Sutir. She formed a low, hot fire quickly. It gave off much smoke but little light; at night-time, the high and dark pillar would attract nothing. In the daytime, the situation was reversed. After it was completed, Sutir stretched his legs out with a groan. "I never knew walking was so painful," he complained. Reshimi grinned at the irony. "You get used to it." The man chuckled. "Have you ever traveled? Out of the desert, I mean." She shook her head. "No, I have never left. This is the home of my ancestors. I am neither as roaming as a wolf nor as unsettled as a bird." "But you are a Chaktawe, right?" She nodded in confirmation. "Stories come before you. You travel already." "That is different," she retorted. "How?" At a loss of words, she glared. "It just is." The man, already proving himself to be easy-going, grinned again. "I didn't mean anything bad. Just a pleasant conversation, is all." Once more, silence reigned. She looked at Loardbel; he had not spoken this entire time. She frowned. Nor had he moved, maintaining the same position, poised carefully on the ground, for sometime. "Why do you travel?" "Yet to find my place, I guess. We're heading for Yahebah, to take a ship to Akvatar and from there, who knows." "We have each other," the skinny man said, almost too forcefully. "And we're staying together, the whole trip." Loardbel relaxed considerably, and Reshimi again wondered at the strange relationship. Loardbel was so devoted, it was unnatural. But, perhaps, there were those like that out of the desert.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 84, 511 AV The air changed subtly as they sat by the fire. Soon, the stars began to fade away in the approaching dawn and a bright pink sun peaked its new head over the land. She squinted her eyes, looking toward it. "How can you do that?" Sutir asked. "Do what?" she asked, confused. "Look into the sun so easily." "It still is bright ... " All her life, she had lived on the desert surface, and he expected her not to be able to look at the sun? Silly man. "I just can." Her mother came out of the tent, grey hair a frizz around her face. Reshimi wondered if, one day, she would bear that same appearance. "Good morning," Pippiley greeted the pair; the skinny man disappeared into his tent a short while ago. "With the love of Makutsi, Mother," the woman said. She accepted a pouch of food wordlessly from her mother. Reshimi opened the bag of dried meats with vengeance; she hadn't realized how hungry she was. "Share," she chided her child. Abashedly, the woman paused and turned to Sutir, offering. He held up a hand. "No, well," the man debated before reaching in and grabbing a decent-sized strip. It was rubbery and preserved with salt, true, but it was the easiest and most convenient food for short notice. "Thank you." Her mother also took a piece. "Have you spoken with Nashish?" "He has not emerged," was the quick answer. "But we need to move - today." Sutir slipped away silently, and the women barely acknowledged his departure. "Try convincing him that. He already thinks it was bad enough we traveled with her this late." "What is done, is done. He has to realize that sitting in a dry riverbed will do nothing. Shelliah needs fresh food and water, and if he is going to stay here, he will kill her with good intentions!" She sighed, rubbing her eyes and smudging the black lines. "I'll tell him. Can you pack the tent?" "I can - " "No, I barely saw Shelliah yesterday. And those children ... they haven't left the tent." Though she was angry at her brother, she still respected him and his wishes enough not to barge the night before. But morning came, and things changed.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 85, 511 AV "Brother?" she called out, pushing the flap of the tent aside cautiously. She entered, taking in the sleeping forms. The children laid in a heap in the far corner, and her brother's arm was protectively thrown over Shelliah's large stomach. The woman still looked pale and drawn; she was not better, nor was she worse. Gently shaking the man awake, she whispered, "Greet the sun with a caw, Nashish. The sun has risen, and you are not worth your water!" He groaned softly. "Is she okay?" were the first worried words that fell from his sleepy lips. "Neither better nor worse. We have to move within the next bell." He nodded in agreement, and Reshimi woke the children. They, too, carried the same harried and worried look as their father. Briefly, she wondered if her face was as drawn. A bell passed, and the group was prepared for travel: fed and packed, good humors brought forth forcefully to battle the thought of hard travel. Shelliah was perched on the most easy-going horse, swaying slightly with the rhythm of its walk. In the sun, her pallor diminished slightly. But even after a few moments, a sheen of sweat began to form on her brow. Yahebah was a two-day travel; Reshimi hoped her dear friend would survive the travel. It had taken all of Reshimi's persuasion skills to draw the strangers from their tent and convince them to pack quickly and efficiently. She strapped their tent to her horse, Sundi, and walked alongside instead. They covered ground quickly at first, always watchful of the sick woman, and stopped briefly every few leagues. At one point, Sutir suddenly asked, "Is that a desertbred?" Startled from her daydream of horses and fond memories, she answered slowly. "Yes, her name is Sundi." The man grinned. "Close to mine! They are worth quite a bit of money outside Eyktol," he mused aloud. Her eyes narrowed, and she replied with a harsh under bite, "I will not sell my Sundi!" "Just talking," he said, hoping to calm the woman. She was already on edge, and a single misplaced word caused her to snap viciously. Thus the group traveled, in silence and fear and worry and anger, pausing only to fret and pray, before beginning the harsh trek to careful hope once more. Yahebah was the fruition of their passage through the desert, and it loomed behind a backdrop of sparkling water like salvation touching their wandering lives.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 87, 511 AV ARRIVAL IN YAHEBAH END OF A Traveler, Moving with the Wind I CONTINUES IN A Traveler, Moving with the Wind II, FOUND HERE