Against the Wind

1.2 || Raya

The heat hit her in a dense wave, and an instant longing for inside's cool shade washed through her. Above, a boiling red sun simmered amid a blue as deep and boundless as a jewel's interior, mirrored sides flashing a warped haze of light over the desert city of Tehazibith. Even the air today was still, stiff and dry as if hand-carved to sap energy. The cloth folds of rooftops sat limp atop monochrome sandbrick. Raya blinked until the light muted itself as her eyes adjusted, then gathered her skirts, moving out onto the street with a slow reluctance carefully disguised as grace.

Sand softly shifted beneath her flat shoes. It dipped in this place between the houses, stamped down day after unchanging day until footprints faded into a hard, darkened sheet of ruined gold, though nothing as simply useful as a street should truly be described as ruin. A cloud of young apprentice mages swept past her, glowing in their oversized white capes and chattering eagerly amongst one another. Raya tugged at the edge of her own yellow cloak, the sign of her status as a fully-qualified mage, fanning it in and out to generate a breeze that tickled her neck. At least the girls were too busy with their own tangled string of conversation to bother her. It was strange, but she feared their bright eyes, the reverence with which they looked at her as if she were exactly what they aspired to be. As if she had everything figured out. As if she were, somehow, perfect.

There were times when she hated that word: perfect.

Still, she lifted her chin as she rounded a sharp corner and forked onto a busier street, absorbed into its bustle. Her cloak flicked out behind her like a long, yellow tongue as her pace increased. Men carrying crates and lugging small wagons hurried to jerk out of her way, offering respectful nods of acknowledgement. Women clothed in the same sand-hued shade as Raya glided elegantly past her, flashing bold smiles as their jewellery glittered in sync with hers. Children darted in and out between longer legs as if the crowd were a maze, or a toy, carefree laughter fleeing them, desperate to run before age caught up and swallowed the joy whole. The girls like Yasmin with their headwraps and their lowered heads hid too well to be spotted. Life swirled as it always did, and Raya kept her feet stepping firm and brisk, trimming it from her itching haze of senses until her day's first task came into view.

Up ahead, the sand scissored away in a strict line, and pale gold folded into the rich, dark umber of turned soil. Specs of green poked up from the mounds—freshly planted seeds. Green only existed in Tehazibith in these tiny, manufactured pockets, and though they were just as much of a cage as anything else, there was a rare sense of freedom buried within them that lifted Raya's spirits. Her nose caught the earthy scent drifting her way, and a smile buoyed her lips.

A man leaning against a rake looked up at her approach, but he wasn't the first to greet her. Instead, a boy no older than twelve sprung from his crouch in the field's centre, sandals kicking up sprays of soils as he dashed over to her. Dirt smothered his palms and streaked his cheeks, and his breathing had a ragged edge from exertion, but still he hastened to sink into the customary bow: one foot placed delicately in front of the other, knees bent as he dipped his head, hands clasped together in one interlocked fist which he pressed fervently to his chest. When his head snapped up, he was grinning. "Miss Rayanah! I'm so sorry I missed you yesterday. I woke up too late, so I told Papa to wake me extra early this morning so I could see you! How are you? You look lovely, by the way."

A laugh tripped from Raya's tongue, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She returned his smile. "My day is much sunnier now that you have a place in it, Samir. Thank you."

If possible, Samir beamed even brighter. He'd split his face open one day from smiling so excessively, but at least there was an unfiltered genuinity to it. His eyes were round and shining.

"I must offer my apologies, then, if you made such an effort to rush over here," she added, guilt souring her tongue as Samir's father, Nadim, limped nearer. Her gaze bounced between the two of them, slotting a glance at the long-since-risen sun in between them. "I'm afraid I'm running a little late today."