K'yohko was awake long before anyone else in the mornings. When the sun was still hidden, the Nunh was awake with the whispers of the sands and the wind. For his entire life, for all his life, the Sagoli had been his home. He knew it intimately. Every movement of the sands, every shift of the wind; they all spoke to him like an old friend or a mother might speak. And when he awoke he found a quiet place to speak back to them in his own manner.
He spoke to them of his daughters. All worried him now. With one having abandoned her home, he wondered if his choice to stay mostly out of their childhood was a good one. But what else could he have done? He was not a teacher. He refrained from speech at most times. And certainly, communing with the sand and wind was an art and practice lost on children. Should he have been sterner? Crueler? Nicer? Should he have become like K'thalen?
The questions were never answered by the sand or the wind or the sun, but the rising of the sun put his mind down from its doubt. Doubt did nothing for him now. There was only but to move forward.
He stood as the sun warmed his broad shoulders. A soft wind seemed to carry his glance off towards that of one of his younger daughters; to K'mih. All of his daughters were strange to him. More noticeably since the Calamity. More noticeably of recent. K'mih did not oft come to him. But she had never run from him like a child before either.
K'yohko moved silent across the sands, a mere specter across camp until he stood just behind his daughter.
"K'mih." He breathed out her name easily, although it felt somewhat strange to his tongue. "We need to speak."
He spoke to them of his daughters. All worried him now. With one having abandoned her home, he wondered if his choice to stay mostly out of their childhood was a good one. But what else could he have done? He was not a teacher. He refrained from speech at most times. And certainly, communing with the sand and wind was an art and practice lost on children. Should he have been sterner? Crueler? Nicer? Should he have become like K'thalen?
The questions were never answered by the sand or the wind or the sun, but the rising of the sun put his mind down from its doubt. Doubt did nothing for him now. There was only but to move forward.
He stood as the sun warmed his broad shoulders. A soft wind seemed to carry his glance off towards that of one of his younger daughters; to K'mih. All of his daughters were strange to him. More noticeably since the Calamity. More noticeably of recent. K'mih did not oft come to him. But she had never run from him like a child before either.
K'yohko moved silent across the sands, a mere specter across camp until he stood just behind his daughter.
"K'mih." He breathed out her name easily, although it felt somewhat strange to his tongue. "We need to speak."
![[Image: urVhoNf.png]](http://i.imgur.com/urVhoNf.png)
