Figurehead

twenty-seven

It's difficult to start a fire out here, in the sand and darkness and freezing cold. Tui managed it, somehow. There is little kindling, only a clump of dried grass, but it's enough. A trail of smoke rises from the burning flickering flames. They could be put out any moment by the stinging winds.

We sit cross-legged, hunched over the small clump of warmth with pelts over the cloaks on our shoulders. Will we get any sleep out here?

"How much longer do you think we will be here?" I ask. I could see only one or two shelters' silhouettes in the distance, during the day. They are side-by-side, reachable in a day, but they aren't in Deritri.

She shrugs, hands cupped over the flames to shield it. "Two or three days should be enough."

I see. And afterwards, we remain in Deritri. Where? I don't know. For how long? I don't know. In a hostile environment? That, I do know.

Will I ever see Dein again? I don't know.

Does the Lord will for me to return to Anshakim? I don't know.

There is far too much I don't know.

Instead of these questions, I ask, "Do you need me to keep watch for half-night?"

She shakes her head. "If anyone was to approach horseback, we would hear. If anyone were to approach regardless, it would take them time, and we would hear."

I eye her skeptically, then hold a piece of dried meat over the flames. "Alright, then," I say finally.

I sigh heavily, chewing on the meat softened little by the heat. I don't want to be here. I don't want to go to Deritri. I want to be at home- but what home do I have? The dwelling I stay in is shared between trusted messengers, considered mine only because I was the first of the trusted to live in it, and I have stayed there most. But all of my belongings are here beside me. The dwelling itself is bare.

My kin are in Huistef, but Huistef is not my home.

I don't have a home in this empire.

I have one in the afterlife, I know. But knowing that doesn't help my situation much while I'm here.

Sometimes- a lot of the time, really- I wish my faith was stronger.

I suppress a sigh as I chew on another piece of tough dried meat. Wishes are like clouds, I guess. Beautiful, certainly, but not touchable, not reachable. Far away. Real, yes. But far, far away. And not always helpful.

When the winds finally succeed in extinguishing the final sparks, we settle in our pallets side-by-side, the sand shifting beneath us and invading. I wear my jacket, my cloak and have a sheet and pelt over me, wrapped around me, really. The cold still seeps through.

I can't sleep for a long time.

But that's no surprise.

It's the warmth that wakes me. The sand is warm, the air is warm, and the wind that just brushed across me is like an almost-burning heat. I shed my cloak and toss my sheet and pelt aside, shaking the sand off my pallet as I roll it up, waking Tui in the process.

I shake my cloak and sheet and pelt as well, getting as much of the sand off as I can before wrapping them around the pallet, picking up my things, wrapping them in bundles, strapping everything to my back. I cover my nose and mouth with the cloth at my neck as I rub my eyes. I didn't sleep well. I never do.

She moves just as quickly, more so even, packing everything away and strapping her things to her back. The only thing suggesting anyone was here are the ashes of the kindling- but they've just been blown away by the wind. The sands are moving, too, so there are no footprints, no prints at all. Nothing.

I'm glad I can still see the silhouettes of the shelters far away, up ahead. Otherwise I'd feel utterly lost.

She hands me a stale piece of flatbread. I thank her wordlessly, moving the cloth on my face to stuff the piece of food into my mouth. It's not particularly easy to eat, but it's better than some things I've had before.

I thread my fingers through my hair- well, I attempt to, at least. There's sand all over and within its usual knots. I settle on tying it back. At least it's out of my face.

In unspoken agreement, we start moving forward. There is no trail anymore. There is only sand, everywhere. One or two clumps of dried grass, miraculously, but nothing else. An insect or two. I'm glad I didn't see or hear them before going to sleep. It would have made it even more difficult to relax.

The silence could be peaceful.

If not for the fact we are headed for enemy territory and know nothing about it. The fact that we may never return.

Here, the silence only means my thoughts- my doubts- are louder than ever when I most wish they would disappear.

The Lord is with us, He protects us, He knows what He's doing. Everything happens for a reason according to His will. He's here.

I try to silence the doubts with truths.

"What would you regret most if we don't return?" Tui asks suddenly, turning to me. Her voice is muffled by the cloth, but her dark eyes are knowing. Why does she have to ask, then? And just when I'd almost quieted my mind, too.

I give her a look. "What would you?"

She doesn't answer. "Fine, I see how it is," she sighs instead. Interesting.

But the thing is, if anything were to change between Dein and I and then it was not the Lord's will, it would be worse than if nothing changed at all. I'd rather keep waiting for it to go away than do something about it and find out I shouldn't have done it at all.

I'm not living for me.

In a sense, then, I don't regret saying nothing, changing nothing.

In a sense.

We keep walking, each in our own thoughts. Beside me, Tui tosses her hair with her hands, trying to remove the sand as the winds blow her hair in the opposite direction.

I wonder what she is thinking.

I wonder what she would have said if I had answered.

If I had had an answer.

I don't know if I had.