Sand

Tora scooped up sand and drank it, enjoying the beautiful rough feel of it as it slid down her throat, then held out her hands and offered the remaining sand to her two sisters.

“Snack break.” Gently, she poured it into their cupped hands, and watched as they drank together. When they were finished, she picked up the battered sandpaper book. Her sisters sat at her feet and waited for her to continue. The youngest, who was four, opened wide her baby-blue eyes in an attempt to stay awake for the story.

“Generations ago,” she read, “the Aamire people lived on grassland – see, there’s a picture here.” She turned the book around to show them. Her sisters scrambled backwards and huddled together by the wall, trembling. Tora sighed.

“Leli, Naru, you’re seen this at least ten times. Come back. It’s nothing to be scared of.”

“No,” her sisters said together. “Being scared means being cautious, being cautious means you live longer.” They chanted their mother’s words, and huddled closer.

“Babies.”

The two looked at each other, nodded, and edged forward until they were sitting by Tora’s feet again. Tora continued to read.

“They built houses of wood and stone, and ate fruits off trees and grew vegetables from the ground - life was perfect.” She closed her eyes and read from memory, pictures appearing in her head as if she could see them. “But the Aamire were bad people. They stole from each other, and lied, and cheated when selling goods. So the Eawye came, chasing them in to the desert to teach them to value each other.”

She opened her eyes to read - she always forgot this part. “The Aamire had no chance of surviving against the giant duneworms, poison-crabs and eagles of the desert. They found a valley between four dunes - the Compass Dunes” – she pointed to the North Dune outside her window – “where the monsters wouldn’t go. But it was too late to save their people - there were only two left.”

She paused for dramatic effect. “Thank goodness for us, it was a man and a woman. They built this village, and had children who could drink the sand for sustenance” – she stopped reading and looked up – “and the children had children, all the way down to us.”

“Stop,” her sisters whimpered, brushing their sandy hair over their faces in an attempt to block Tora out. They knew what was coming next.

Tora turned the page to a new chapter and continued – it was her favourite part. The scaredy-cats could cover their ears if they didn’t want to hear it.

Sometimes she wished she could properly share her love of stories with them, but sharing anything with either of her sisters had been impossible since the moment Naru had been born six years ago, too scared already to even cry.

“Stories tell of people who found the water they missed – but their bodies wouldn’t accept it anymore, and it was like corrosive acid to them.” Tora finished reading, and added, “So no-one. Ever. Goes beyond the valley. Ever.” She closed her eyes as well as the book and sighed as her sisters cowered in a corner.

Opening her eyes, she snapped at them. “I’ve finished, now go away.” As much as she tried to tolerate it, their fear often got on her nerves. Still, it was just what Mum had taught them. It was better for them to be like that than to be like me. She winced at the thought, but had to admit the truth in it.

Her words only froze them where they were, so she softened her tone. “It’s time for bed. Naru, you’re a big girl now so your bedroom is the door on the left, okay?” Naru nodded, creeping out the door with a glowing face. Her 6th birthday had been her biggest dream since she’d been old enough to communicate it.

“Do you want to sleep next to me, or Mummy tonight?” Tora asked her remaining sister, crossing her fingers behind her back and hoping that she’d scared them enough to warrant a -

“Mummy,” Leli lisped quietly, shuffling out of the room, and Tora punched the air mentally. Without Leli sharing her room, it would be so much easier to get away.

She checked the clock. 7 PM. Enough time for a visit to Arcus – he’d get suspicious if she didn’t come as usual - then sleep before she ran away. She winced. Her critical inner voice said, Bad wording, idiot.

“Well, what else am I going to call it?” Tora asked herself out loud. A voice came from Morai’s room.

“What’s that, Tora?” Her mother called.

“Nothing.”

Tora left her room and bounced down the stairs, skipping two at a time, then ran out of her house. She weaved through the narrow streets between sand houses, then turned a corner and bumped into someone.

“S-s-sorry,” the woman said. “Oh, T-Tora. Don’t r-run so fast, okay?” Tora smiled and nodded silently, as she always did at that kind of order. It was hard to take the other villagers seriously when they stuttered every third word.

She walked around the next corner then began running again until she was at the edge of the village, the farthest place most of the villagers would go. Beyond that, no-one would survive the monsters.

She slowed down to admire the firm building of Arcus’ house, sliding her hand over the side wall and smiling when she found no cracks; so many of the houses had been falling down lately.

“If you’re coming for a visit, let me see you at least,” came a voice from the front of the house. Tora rolled her eyes.

“How do you always know when I’m here?” She asked. Turning the corner, she giggled.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Arcus said in a muffled voice as a baby grappled his face. “I have to earn money somehow, and I thought this wasn’t the worst I could do.” He reached his arms to the side to pick up a wandering toddler.

“Anyway, how’s work?” He asked when he’d pulled the baby off his head. His normally wavy sand-coloured hair laid dejectedly straight over her eyes, and his tall slim figure looked hunched where he sat.

“The usual,” Tora answered. She picked up another straying toddler and sat down with him on her knee. “Houses are falling down faster than we can build them.” She kept her eyes on the toddler, knowing that a glance at Arcus would tell him she was only pretending everything was normal.

“Have you considered the other job?”

She snorted. “Me? A midwife?” How can these adventurous little babies turn into stuttering mice?

“What are you planning, Tor?” Arcus asked.

Tora looked up and grinned sheepishly. “Nothing?”

“You think I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re planning something? Do whatever it is, but don’t come to me and pretend everything’s normal. Now give me that boy, he’s my job and you’re not paying enough attention to him anyway.” She looked down and realised the toddler was trying to eat her shirt. She shook him off and handed him to Arcus, with a whispered I hate babies.

That night, she lay in bed and planned something for probably the first time in her life. Going over and over it, she decided that there was no way she’d survive without Meline. She would slow Tora down, but she needed to come.

Tora lay back on her bed, hands clasped over her belly. Tomorrow, she would go to the grassland her people had been ejected from so long ago. After all, she reasoned, we’re not bad people anymore.

#

7:30AM. She had half an hour before sunrise.

Tora slipped onto to the floor and silently dressed herself. Then she crept out of her room and into the corridor, praying that he bare feet would make no noise on the thin layer of sand that stretched from wall to wall.

The sand shifted under her weight as she took her first hesitant step. Then another. Then a burst of energy took her to the top of the stairs. She descended, careful to avoid the loud steps that would wake her parents.

Standing on the tips of her toes, she managed to unhook the small iron key from where it hung over the door. It fell with a soft thud on the sand floor below, and she picked it up.

The constant exposure to air had turned it autumn-coloured with rust. She rubbed off what rust she could, then placed the key on a nearby table so she could use both hands to root under the chest-of-drawers.

Feeling something large and square that she hoped was what she was looking for, she rotated it until she found the handle. She pulled it towards her, and gasped.

It didn’t matter how many times she saw it, the red and gold covering of the case always stopped her breath. She ran her hand over the velvet cover and the gold-plated outline. The first time, it had disturbed her to feel something so soft. But she’d grown used to it, and even liked touching it now.

Tora shook herself out of her velvet-induced trance and unclipped the case. Just Meline, not the case, she reminded herself. Stay focused, or you won’t survive this.

The case opened, and she picked up the dagger inside. Meline, the Silent Lady. Tora was too scared to run her finger down the curved edge of the blade, so instead, she traced the golden tiger emblem on the red hilt. It was her secret friend - the only thing in her village that didn’t remind her of her people’s weakness. She’d often laid awake at night wondering how her mother, Morai, had obtained it. And why she kept it.

Tora closed the case and shoved it under the chest-of-drawers again, clutching the dagger in one hand. She opened the bottom drawer and took out the sheath she’d secreted there, stroking its coarse, duneworm-armour exterior before attaching it to her belt, then sheathed the Silent Lady, feeling like an eaglet taking its first flying lesson. The dagger felt so right, by her side.

A few cautious steps took her to the doorway, where she picked up her wooden sandboard (she felt a little guilty at stealing the village’s only wood, but she needed it and they never used it anyway). She tucked it under her arm. Then she ran, bare feet skimming the sand with the lightness of a fabled duneworm-hunter as she cleared the village and climbed up the north mountain-dune.

At the top, she turned to look down on the black shape that was all she could see of her village in the dark. She tried to send a mental message to her sisters, and her mother and her father. When you wake up, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then I can lead you to a place where we won’t have to hide like cowards – Tora cut herself off. It’s supposed to be a nice message, she chided, then finished for message. I love you all.

She faced the west mountain-dune, where the sun would set, and started walking, hoping she wouldn’t be walking long enough for the sun to get into her eyes.