09-10-2016, 11:43 AM
Mara peered around herself. The yellow, dusty horizon was vast, uncluttered by the silhouette of people. Had she sought solitude? No. She'd sought something with the shift.
"You are right. None would want to be here. None but me."
It seemed a depressing statement, but Mara was not depressed. She swept her fingers through the grains and poured a palm full atop her head. They stuck to her hair, scratched her face. The softness of the sand transformed into something irritating as she rubbed the grains into her cheeks. Maybe the grains of sand weren't miniscule pebbles ground to pulp by the eons of time. Maybe they were bugs, a million or a billion of them, scattering and crawling. The dunes were not piles of sand at all, but mounds of them, crawling and seeking flesh to devour.
Luckily, it was just sand.
She smiled, "You are right, Nimeda. We are old. I would like to meet these others you speak. The Calvin and the Jon. Will you take me?"
She stood and the soles of bare toes dug into the pillowy sand underfoot. Her attire fluffed dry with a thought. Her hair transformed into a silky sheen again. She reached out a hand, offering to grasp Nimeda's for guidance.
"You are right. None would want to be here. None but me."
It seemed a depressing statement, but Mara was not depressed. She swept her fingers through the grains and poured a palm full atop her head. They stuck to her hair, scratched her face. The softness of the sand transformed into something irritating as she rubbed the grains into her cheeks. Maybe the grains of sand weren't miniscule pebbles ground to pulp by the eons of time. Maybe they were bugs, a million or a billion of them, scattering and crawling. The dunes were not piles of sand at all, but mounds of them, crawling and seeking flesh to devour.
Luckily, it was just sand.
She smiled, "You are right, Nimeda. We are old. I would like to meet these others you speak. The Calvin and the Jon. Will you take me?"
She stood and the soles of bare toes dug into the pillowy sand underfoot. Her attire fluffed dry with a thought. Her hair transformed into a silky sheen again. She reached out a hand, offering to grasp Nimeda's for guidance.
"Come, mistress"