The Dunes Would Bury Them [[pre-2.0, Hipparion Tribe, ooc welcome]]

[Naunet]

K'piru did not look up when K'ile approached, nor when K'luha made her fearful exit. She'd shut her eyes and turned away from the others and now sat in a corner at the back of the tent, bowed over her knees. When K'luha and her daughter's scents faded, there came some relief, but the memories they had stirred remained as raw and bleeding as ever.

 

Little K'ailia's burns became K'airos's burns, and K'airi's. And Thalens. K'luha's panic echoed and intensified her own, even after the woman left, and a low, faint moan, the desperate sound of a wounded animal, broke from her throat.

 

When K'aijeen had left, K'piru had thought she'd crumble, both from the pain of losing a daughter and the guilt over the relief she had felt, relief that she no longer had to live in terror over what her daughter might do next. But she'd had her girls, and Thalen, then. They buoyed her, recalled to her a purpose and a family.

 

But now...

 

Her eyes cracked open, red and wet, and peered sideways at K'ile. "They will... They will be alright, if I..." she trailed off, suddenly afraid of speaking what she had just considered, ashamed and terrified, but desperate.

[Twinflame]

Taking K'piru by either shoulder, K'ile knelt in front of her once more. At this point it felt like almost ritual supplicationg. Before K'luha had entered, he'd thought that, maybe, he had almost convinced K'piru that they were going to be alright. If her greatest concern were K'yohko's accusations, and those meant nothing, then K'ile would be able to hold onto her. But now the Shaman seemed disturbed by K'luha and K'ailia, their selfish panic and pain impressing themselves on the woman.

 

"They're going to be fine," he said. "They'll pull through, just like you and I will. You can take your time, rest, don't worry. I'll be here to take care of everything."

[K'haali]

Meanwhile, hidden from sight of the scarred camp, a crumbling, scorched stone bounced across the sands towards the faint plume that was once Dalamud, still lingering as a haze high above the horizon even so long after it had erupted into fire and destruction. K'haali right now felt rather like the stone, trapped in a sea of sand. Surrounded by strangers with familiar faces, yet completely disconnected and alone among them.

 

 

 

Another stone bounced across the sand, gouging a scar out behind it

 

 

 

When the tribe wanted to help the outsiders in their war, she'd protested. It was a war between outsiders, it was never the tribe's business getting involved in it. For all their bravado, war was a place where men killed each other, and she didn't want to see any of her extended family die, least of all for a fight that wasn't theirs.

 

They had of course ignored her protests, reassured her that they were going to "kick the Garleans right back to whatever continent they came from and wouldn't take a scratch doing it", K'thalen wearing that grin that spoke of limitless confidence. She wanted to believe them, but the glow of Dalamud by night said otherwise - if they had the power to bring down a moon, how strong were the Garleans in battle? 

 

 

 

An uncontrolled sniffle, and staggered attempt at a deep breath heralded another stone, an avian head, tilted quizzically tracking it's flight.

 

 

 

When they left anyway, she'd rejected the platitudes of the tribe and instead sat vigil with only K'weh for company, curled up together, watching the horizon as long as Azemya would permit; sometimes even taking food with her. Watching for some sign Dalamud and it's controlling army had been defeated. 

 

 

 

A stone is sent flying at the fine haze that was once Dalamud with as much force as she could muster, as if trying to send the stone back in time and knock it out the sky before the calamity could unfold.

 

 

 

Of course, it didn't work; Dalamud had still exploded in a conflagration of molten rock that seemed to tower all the way to the heavens, with a sound that almost shook the world from it's foundations... that alone had been enough to send Haali screaming, seeking shelter beneath the jagged rocks behind where she sat vigil, out of sight of the battle. 

 

Could she have warned her mother, dragged her to the rocks too? Probably not, she must have seen the flames too there was no way anyone in Eorzea could have missed it, and it seemed like no time at all had passed before that dark shadow flew overhead and the desert turned to fire; the hunters had not only involved the tribe in a battle was not their's, but now it seemed they'd brought the Garlean's wrath upon their men, women and children in retaliation.

 

 

 

She curled her knees up to her chin and leaned back into K'weh's feathers as if trying merge with it and disappear from the world completely.

 

 

 

Mercifully, unlike so many others, K'nirha was not awake to suffer, instead rendered insensate by the firestorm that had left her burned almost head to toe, much of her hair gone, and scalp peeling. Carried to the makeshift infirmary she'd been left on her own while others busied themselves tending to their kin. There K'haali had been left to tend to her mother alone, she felt completely overwhelmed; the adult members of the tribe had been rendered to a juvenile state, sobbing, wailing and flailing helplessly against the situation. Deaf to any of her polite pleas for any kind've assistance.

 

She'd eventually fallen asleep, still holding K'nirha's hand, and had been nudged awake by K'piru tending to her mother after what seemed like an eternity.

 

Much of the sobbing had stopped and a degree of order had settled as everyone sat vigil with their kin, the look on K'piru's face however betrayed what she was thinking, making no attempt to hide it unaware she was being watched.

 

Suddenly, alert to K'haali's presence she'd turned and pressed her hand to her cheek warmly, trying to appear hopeful before quickly moving on to the next patient.

 

 

 

Closing her eyes she tried retreat to a comfortable spot in her mind with just her and K'weh surrounded by warm feathers.

 

 

 

Anxious days dragged by, with no sign of the victorious hunters. They'd have the answers, they were the tribes best and brightest; K'thalen'd be there with a huge grin and crates of medical supplies taken from the defeated Garleans as loot. 

 

But when they arrived back that evening the mood remained just as dark, no celebrations, just a thin trickle of beaten and burned miqo'te, looking defeated; most directed to the makeshift infirmary midst the skeletal remains of the tents, still standing as no effort could be spared to remove them.

 

K'haali'd kept looking around urgently, inspecting every new arrival, meeting their gaze, asking, trying to find Thalen or any of her family that'd joined the war party. But they just kept looking through her, pretending she was invisible, or hadn't heard her.

 

 

 

It didn't work, even with her eyes closed the world around her still wouldn't go away. K'weh seemingly aware of her anxiety butted his head against hers.

 

 

 

 

When she returned to infirmary, her mother was gone, in every sense of the word, and the space on the tarp now occupied by one of the recently arrived hunters. She sat there, silently, next to the new arrival, both seemingly oblivious to each others presence while her mind raced with the possibilities, seeking answers - where had they taken her, was she ok, where is father, uncles, aunts...

 

"Where is everybody!?"

 

...she realised she'd shouted that out loud, and drawn the attention of everyone at the infirmary, as she'd made her way to find K'piru and word of her mother. Looking back sheepishly, she turned to walk away, only to plant her face squarely into the bandaged chest of K'yohko, who'd come to talk to her.

 

 

 

Another stone flew out from the mound of yellow feathers, though K'ile was fortuitously not in it's path as intended.

 

 

 

Unaware that neither K'ile nor K'piru had spoken to K'haali yet; his condolences had rather a different effect than he intended and she'd disappeared into the night in a trail of incoherent sobbing. 

 

For the first time in her life, K'haali felt like a stranger among the tribe. When her mother was dying they'd ignored her for their immediate kin. When the hunters came back, they'd ignored her pleas for information. When she needed know where her mother had gone, K'piru was nowhere to be found. Even K'ile, her uncle, the one closest to her father hadn't come to her; that had fallen to K'yohko of all the people. 

 

 

 

K'weh's head snapped to attention, and peered over the rock under which they were sheltered, back at the skeletal remains of the camp, barely a stones throw away. 

 

 

 

For all the good running away would do though, the tribe was all she knew... she'd just have to make herself useful.

[Clover]

K'mih Yohko was a lucky Miqo'te. She survived the calamity.

 

As desolation engulfed the camp after the flames, the 11 years old girl didn't leave her mother's comforting side. Around her, only tears and sorrow coloured the canvas of what was left of her tribe. The place she used to call home no longer felt as such; faces she used to know were no longer recognizable. Her family had become smaller, and the reason was still unknown to her.

 

She didn't know the sky could burn like that. She didn't know that the world could suddenly break.

 

Oh, but she was a lucky Miqo'te. The people she most cared for had survived, they were safe. Her mother, her sister K'nahli, and her father. Then she'd look around her, at all the loss she wouldn't know how to cope with, and tears would start flowing from her eyes again. "Don't cry, K'mih", her mother's soft voice would tell her, a pair of loving arms offering all the comfort she needed.

 

K'mih was unsure, couldn't tell, if those were tears of sadness or tears of joy.

 

 

 

===========================================

 

 

 

K’rahto Tia was an unlucky Miqo’te. He survived the calamity.

 

The 13 years old boy was out of his tent when everything began, training with deadly determination and broken pride. He was just a kid, there was no way he could have gone to war with his fellow Miqo’tes, and he hated it. He hated being so small, so helpless. None of those emotions compared, however, to the sight of a burning sky as fire started descending upon his home. He’d run to his tent as fast as his legs allowed, only to turn his fears into a reality.

 

That night, he’d lost his mother, and likely his father as well.

 

When the world stopped shaking and sadness played its tragic tune, he was found away from the group, away from his sister’s comfort. The feeling of helplessness had never been as devastating and uncontrollable as it was that night; he just didn’t want anyone to see him cry. And cry he did, with hatred and anger and poison.

 

He’d become a man for his people. A strong man. That night, however, he was just a very unlucky kid.

[K'nahli]

The vicious, bellowing of the young miqo'te's name continued to echo behind her as she fleeted off into the concealing, darkness of the night, putting more and more distance between herself and the familiar tone of a distraught mother as her nimble legs continued carrying her forward into the camouflaging blackness. K'nihqa had forbade her to leave her side since that day, told her that everything would be alright so long as she did not disobey her, but words were not enough to convince her daughter. In the past week she had simply sat by and bore witness as her family was slowly torn apart by grief and inward conflict. Yet her insignificant existence, a mere thirteen year old who could barely hold notable worth to her tribe was one of very few who escaped mostly unscathed. It was rottenly unjust.

 

The moment that her mother's wails of despair had fallen out of earshot, the girl sought momentary refuge behind a large, blackened rock that towered grossly out from the dense, soot-ridden Sagolii sands. A detestable fragment of the star that consumed all and left nothing but a fiery destruction in its wake.

K'nahli took the chance to regain her breath while remaining out of sight. Her mother didn't seem to have had any idea of where she had run off to, but it was no excuse for carelessness; she knew that she could not waste what would certainly be her only opportunity. Scratched hands, blackened from soot and smoke alike, gingerly brushed over her burning cheek, seeking out counterpart wounds that would better fit her circumstance. Though nothing of favour was found.

Why? Why did she have to be spared the horrors that so many of her family had to endure? What was it that deemed her to be 'worthy' of loitering in ill-necessity of medical aid?

Paled irises searched the ground beneath her feet for answers as another pang of guilt pulsed outward from her stomach. She threw her head upward in an attempt to recover herself from such thoughts. They were self-destructive, a crippling state of mind that would only slow her down. She could not think about such things now. She looked forward once more, eyeing the devastated scenery around her hesitantly before pushing herself away from the rock to commence running once more.

 

Her nimble feet carried her swiftly through the makeshift encampment, knowing their destination, though not the path to get there. K'nahli frantically looked about herself as she searched for something that might hint towards where he might be staying. He came back, she knew he did. 

Her pale, pink eyes continued to dart desperately from side to side, finding only desolation and grief in place of a once proud and powerful tribe.

 

She came to an abrupt stop as she chose to investigate a nearby tent. She peeked inside with a naive expression of hope, only to be met with angered faces and others of newly found grief. She retreated, running around once again to continue her search.

 

- "I need to see him, I need to make sure hes not hurt!" -

- "You will do no such thing. Its not safe for you to go running about" -

- "I won't! I promise! I just need to make sure hes okay, I'll be quick, I..-" -

- "No, K'nahli!" -

 

The faint resonance of her mothers scoldings rang aloud in her skull. Each sentence reminisced causing K'nahli to grow more frantic in her search.

Another large tent that fell into her vision was the next subject of her investigation, though that tent would also yield no results.

 

- "Why are you being like this?! I just want to see him!" -

- "Arguing with me will not change my mind, K'nahli. The tribe, you..." -

- ".....?" -

- "Someone your age... a child, should not have to witness what is out there" -

- "........" -

 

 

A number of other tents and yet still no satisfying answers were found.

 

 

- "...I am not a child; you need not shelter me from reality, mother.." -

- "....I'm sorry, K'nahli" -

 

 

Where could he be? He came home, right? He's here, isn't he?

 

 

- "I NEED to see him, he's my....." -

 

A dimly illuminated tent a short distance away suddenly caught her attention. It was the largest one she had seen thusfar and surely where the wounded were being cared for. K'nahli wasted no time in dashing directly for it, as if drawn to it by some unseen force. This was where she would find him. She was sure of it.

 

Quickly arriving outside, the girl drew in a deep, choking breath of the smokey air before pushing her way inside.

 

- ".....my... friend..." -

 

 

 

Her silent form spectated quietly as she watched the unfamiliar figure of her father lean over a makeshift bed while tending to a male patient, both their faces hidden from view. A powerful wave of discomfort radiated outward from the girl's stomach. As if trapped in an eternal fall, she stood by the entrance in silence, too afraid to approach should she see what she feared the most. Her breathing slowly grew more rapid, still silent however, as her eyes dilated widely in fear.

 

("Its not...") she desperately tried to encourage herself to think optimistically, her words barely holding any weight upon her troubled mind, however.

("Its not him....") her thoughts, sounding almost like an alien guest narrating for her, offered further reassurance once more, giving her the courage she needed to finally push herself to take her first, apprehensive step forward.

 

Her frail hands were clasped shakily together before her chest as she slowly crept forward. The two men slowly coming within touching distance, but the patient, still momentarily shielded from view.

 

"F-Fath...." her voice croaked as she struggled to call out to the preoccupied and heavily wounded nuhn.

 

He was bandaged and bruised all over. His previously, strong and immovable form was destroyed from the unspeakable horrors that had claimed savage to his body. He looked unwell, unfit to move the young girl thought. Yet here he was, tending to others to the best of his ability. It was a brave sight, but also so painfully tragic.

 

"Father...." she finally managed to speak, pausing briefly, almost as if pronouncing the word alone had sapped all of her strength. Her eyes searched for her father's desperately, hoping that his placid glance would grant her mind the solace she so gravely needed. In those short moments that she awaited her father to turn and look back at her, a time that felt like a nerve-shattering eternity to the young miqo'te, she prayed silently for his solid reassurance that everything would be alright.

 

If anyone else could make her feel safe right now, it was him.

[Lyraciilee]

The burns were bad. He was among the worst injured. It was surprising he had held on as long as he had... K'yhaega. He was a good man. It pained K'yohko now to clean his burned face as much as possible. He was nearly unrecognizable now. Or perhaps it was just because K'yohko was so tired. His vision had been blurry the last few days, but it was only getting worse with each hour he remained awake. Someone had to do this. Someone had to bury them all. He was the only person who hadn't yet fallen to pieces it seemed either.

 

K'yohko turned his head when he heard a small voice calling nervously for her father. He recognized her instantly as K'nahli. His face was worn and battered and dirty, but his eyes remained as still and stony as ever. Although he was sad and torn, he was for the most part, unchanged. K'nahli could see the tiredness and sadness in his eyes, but there was also a strength behind them. He had to be strong for everyone. It was something he had accepted.

 

"K'nahli..." he called back her name softly and stood. He stepped towards his daughter before kneeling in front of her and moving to take her hands. "Your mother didn't want you in here. Do you need me? Or are you looking for someone?" K'yohko knew whom she was looking for. He was not so disengaged from his family that he did not know what they were up to. He had watched K'yhaega teach K'nahli to hunt. He had watched them become close, sometimes too close for his own liking. But never had K'yhaega done anything to earn K'yohko's dislike or mistrust, and so he allowed it to happen. But now... he was sure that K'nahli was here to find K'yhaega. How could he tell her that the brutally maimed body in front of her was him? How could he tell that to his thirteen year old daughter?

[K'nahli]

Fear... sadness... anxiety...... grief and even hatred. Despite K'yohkos best efforts, he was unable to conceal these feelings from her. His emotions lay completely dormant across both his features and body language, though deep within his clear, amethyst eyes his torn soul spoke true of his silent grief. Never before had she seen her father like this, it would have been impossible for her to even imagine had she not witnessed it here and now. For someone who, for all her life, had been a personification of a rock; solid, strong and resilient to even the wildest of storms, it was frightening for the girl to finally see that even he was scarred on the inside, beaten down and for the first time in his life, a victim.

 

"I...I was just...." she tried to answer her father. Her voice was shaky, though a little more collected than before.

 

She knew that there was no need for her to finish her sentence, however. Her father's question had been rhetorical, he knew the answer already. He always had the answers, had it been for her or any of his other daughters. He was not the easiest person to be around at times, but there was no-one who could make her feel as safe as he did.

 

K'nahli's eyes quickly averted away from her fathers as the face of the bedridden male had finally been unveiled from behind the blockading form of K'yohko's battered body. A panicked breath slipped past her lips as the brutality of the male's wounds burned into her mind. It was grotesque, his face didn't appear recognisable yet at the same time, he felt somehow.. familiar. The pallid, pink colour of her eyes caused them to gleam brightly against the gloomy candlelight that flickered a short distance behind her father as she studied the patient fearfully for a few more seconds, before the image became too much for the young girl to handle. They quickly flicked back again, returning to the safety of her father's, only to briefly scan sideward to the immobilized male a couple of times more as though verifying that his horrible wounds were in fact genuine. She couldn't imagine the pain he must have felt. She didn't want to.

 

"K...K'yhae....ga..." she finally spluttered out as her wavering eyes traveled down toward her feet anxiously. Initially she had sought comfort in her father's eyes, but seeing him the way he was... they offered her no peace. He was still strong, and doing well to retain his stoic appearance, but she couldn't handle even the slightest sign of weakness in his eyes. It steadily consumed the dwindling hope that lingered within her.

 

"I need to find h-him, I need to... make sure...." she added grievously, her head still hung low as her eyes darted from side to side nervously.

 

She shut her eyes tightly as a deep breath was drawn in, an attempt to grant herself the strength to continue speaking. Her glance rose up now, pale eyes meeting once again with the contrasting dark of his, created through the smokey shadows that cast under that of her father's brow.

 

"Please tell me..."

[Lyraciilee]

K'yohko followed his daughter's eyes, the small movements of her face and body. She gave up all her thoughts with small movements. Even though K'nahli was quiet, she was like an open book. K'yohko could see her fear, her anxiety, her frustration and grief. It was in the way her ears twitched, the way her tail movement, and the color of her eyes. And of course, the way she breathed in so sharply on seeing K'yhaega's maimed body. But he was beyond recognition. Had he not been able to talk before he died, they might have never been able to figure out who it was.

 

The nunh felt his heart shatter a bit further with his daughter's plea. 'Please tell me...' The words echoed around numbly in his skull for a few moments before he realized it. What words could possible make this better? There were no words. They were useless things. Useless before such torrential grief and loss and horror. Instead, K'yohko did something he had never done before. He reached forward and took his daughter in his arms and pressed her against his chest in a firm hug.

 

"I'm sorry K'nahli." He whispered quietly, closing his eyes and holding K'nahli still. He was prepared for her to struggle against him, but he was not going to let her run. She was going to stay with him until she calmed down. Until her mother came, or until K'nahli realized the man with such horrific wounds was K'yhaega.

[K'nahli]

A small gasp could be heard as the nuhn's strong, protective arms wrapped around his daughter in a tender embrace. His heartfelt apology echoed throughout the young girl's head as though the words held no meaning to her, failing to interpret what an unhindered mind would immediately understand. Her conscious had already began putting up defensive barriers in an attempt to shield itself from any unwanted truths.

 

K'nahli's arms hung loosely by her sides as she stared blankly past her father. Her wavering eyes had grown noticeably, more watery as she steadily drew closer to being on the brink of tearing up. Her muscles tensed slightly as her arms slowly rose upward as though being drawn by a puppeteer's strings until they eventually came to gently grip her father's. His skin was gritty, matted with both dried and fresh blood that was saturated with countless, rough grains of sand that stuck stubbornly throughout. Small, untended-to lacerations could still be felt beneath the concealing carpet of darkened crimson all across those large arms that offered her their unrelenting protection.

 

"Wh-Wh-What do you m-mean?" a small voice finally escaped her throat as the tips of her fingers gently pressed into his skin, anchoring against his arms lightly as though it were a weak attempt to squeeze the answers out of him. His unusual behaviour was making the girl increasingly more nervous. Once again, he was slowly draining the small, remnant of hope that she still clung to as he gripped her small form tenderly.

 

 

"I'm t-tired, f-f-father... no-one will t-tell me an-anyth-ing...." the girl croaked pitifully as she slowly turned her head, twisting herself more deeply into her father's comforting embrace as her face nuzzled into his shoulder, bringing her voice closer now.

 

 

"I'm tired of not knowing..."

[Lyraciilee]

How could he tell K'nahli? How could not tell her? K'yohko gripped her more firmly and inhaled deeply for a moment. He had to tell her.

 

"He just passed away a few minutes ago from his burns." The answer was solemn, but steady. K'yohko knew from where she was, she had seen the body. "He's just behind us." K'yohko added after a moment's silence. He wasn't sure if he should have said that or not, but knowing his daughter, she would want to know. She would want proof, to see her mentor one last time. "I'm sorry K'nahli." Never had words felt so significant and meaningless at the same time. His apology could never make up for what she had lost. For what the tribe was losing. And yet without those words, he couldn't tell her what she had lost in the first place.

 

It was all K'yohko could do to subdue his daughter in a strong embrace, and hope that some day time would heal all of their wounds. But he knew better than that. Time could never heal this wound. But it could soften it perhaps.

[K'nahli]

"Eh..e-e-eh?" K'nahli whimpered in confusion, now turning to look past her father toward the motionless body that lay silently behind him.

 

The girl said nothing further for a few moments. Her pale, unsteady eyes were locked on the motionless form before her as she tried to analyze what her father had just said, trying to find an alternative meaning as she resided in complete determination that the literal meaning was false, impossible. A number of soft, muffled hums, emanating faintly from the depths of her throat could be heard. Failed attempts to find the words to begin speaking as her gaze failed to interpret the situation that lay blatantly before her.

 

 

 

A warm smile slowly cracked across the girl's face while tears slowly welled up across the surface of her pallid eyes. Her body trembled slightly, each one of her muscles submitting one by one to the churning conflict of emotion that tugged against and strained her stomach as she slowly lost control of her own stability.

 

"Wha-What are you talking about? He's right th-there! He's fine!"

 

The girl finally spoke. The crippled and disfigured form from moments ago had disappeared from her vision. All that she could see now was the slumbering form of her mentor, peaceful and quiet as he lay seemingly bathed in a faint beam of ethereal light, undisturbed upon the ragged bed much like the old days when she would find him sleeping late into the morning on the days he had promised to take her out early for practice. He was so close to her now, like a prince that lay dormant and needed only for her to reach out to him to awaken.

 

"K'yhaega..." her frail voice called out to him innocently, her smile unfading all the while.

 

"K'yhaega, I w-was looking all o-over for you.." she pleaded softly as her voice, slowly losing its new found composure and returning to its previously, crackled state, reached out desperately towards the lifeless tia.

 

K'yohko's embrace was unrelenting on his young daughter. In response to the girl's weak, yet growing efforts to try and slip free to escape his eternal bind, her father held on to her even more tightly, denying her any further movement beyond where she stood.

 

"P-P-Please, let me s-s-see him!" she stuttered with a false laugh as a thin, channel of moisture traversed quickly down across her face. Her gaze had turned back to her father now, staring down into his shoulder as she directed her request toward him. He was unmoving all the while; holding on to her as though she needed protection. Though she didn't understand. Everything was alright now. She had found him, he was here, alive and well.

 

"I n-n-need to wake him up! I need..." she cried against her father's defiant hold, her eyes slowly growing puffy and red in appearance. She pushed against him vehemently, yet at the same time, calmly, in attempt to coax him to release his grip on her.

 

"Please, dad... let me go" she cried again.

 

The few, salty tears that had slipped free from her eyes had dampened her cheeks, leaving a bitter taste across her chapped lips as she spoke.

 

Despite her tears, she kept smiling.

[Lyraciilee]

It was difficult to listen to her. The trauma was too great for young K'nahli. She simply couldn't accept the truth in his words. She couldn't accept the severity of his wounds and the brutality of his death. K'yohko could not let her near the body. It was cruel perhaps, but whatever she was seeing... it was not what was happening. How could he offer his daughter comfort? In what way could he make her see? There were no ways. There were no words. Only pain.

 

"He is dead K'nahli. I am sorry." K'yohko breathed out quietly, the comforting tone he had so subtly tried to weave broken. Now there was no comfort he could give. All he could be was cruel to her, and cruel he would be. K'yohko could not indulge her delusions. There was too much to do. Too much at stake. Should he allow her to mourn and indulge that idea that K'yhaega was still alive, he feared she would turned into another K'piru. K'yohko could not handle yet another useless body, mourning and flailing in the sand while he ground his bones to dust keeping away Bloatflies and Sandworms and Jackals, and Sun Drakes.

 

"K'nahli..." K'yohko spoke sternly, a once tender hug turning more into a stranglehold on his daughter. "You have disobeyed your mother and worried her greatly. There is much to do for those of us who remain. I am going to take you back to your mother, and I ask that you aide her in whatever way you can. Honor K'yhaega's memory by helping those who might still live." That was the only wisdom he might impart to his daughter. The only things he could say that might even try to patch the wounds. And so K'yohko moved to stand and hold his small daughter to his broad and broken chest, lifting her with him no matter what fight she may put up. He desired to walk her back to his treasured mate and hope that the woman could console K'nahli, when all he could do was be cruel.

[K'nahli]

"He is dead, K'nahli"

 

The nuhns declaration was both solid and blunt, though entirely necessary. Regardless of whether it had been his intention or not, the result of his spoken words, powerful and direct as they were, was instantaneous, crashing into her with the pulverizing force of a freight train and rattling her naivety violently to the core.

 

His embrace upon her served as the sharpened chisel and his words the striking hammer as the chains that had bound her shattered fiercely in that moment, freeing K'nahli from the plaguing shackles of denial and releasing her into the cold, dark embrace of reality. The mere mention of the one word she had dreaded the thought of hearing had triggered an immediate response within the girl. An inexplicable feeling of immense pressure slammed into her stomach, forcing a pained gasp past her quivering lips as her world came crumbling down around her. Tragic eyes, wide as saucers refused to release themselves from the image of the man she had come to love and respect like no other as he slowly began to lose the false, pristine appearance her mind had insisted upon creating only moments ago. The protective, celestial light that had caressed his entirety was fading while familiar wounds began reappearing across his exposed flesh, destroying him. Piece by piece.

 

"No, no... please let me help him!!!" the girl cried out in anguish. Her arms reached out for K'yhaega desperately, yearning for even the slightest brush of skin as though such a trivial thing would breathe life back into him once more and save him from the wounds he was slowly accumulating before her eyes.

 

"Y-Y-You can't do this.... you can't.."

 

His body came to be consumed by an unworldly flame, licking at his flesh, it burned him throughout, torturing his soft and motionless form and returning the wounds he had earned from the hellish massacre at cartenau, wounds K'nahli had refused to even acknowledge. The flame engulfed him whole, slowly returning him back to the wretched, disfigurement that the girl had first beheld when she entered the tent, the body of a mysterious tia whom she 'knew' was anyone but her mentor. The brutish image tormented the girl as she strained against her father's arms desperately, screaming out his name in torturous anguish while her heart heaved and ripped inside, feeling no less than were it being torn apart by a pack of ravenous wolves.

 

"Our promise, K'yhaega... don't you remember it? You said you would come back.. y-you said..."

 

The girl, finally overcome by the tempest of emotion clawing at and defiling her mind, collapsed into her father's arms as he slowly hunkered down to lift her.

 

"You promised..... you can't.... don't break it, please... don't"

 

For the very little awareness K'nahli held toward her father in that moment, his motion at the very least seemed uninhibited. He moved slowly and calmly, resisting her weak struggle rather easily despite his condition. Tender, cradling arms carefully raised her up to his chest, as he moved to carry her away from the detestable scene that was the inspiration for her unfaltering trauma. The moisture from his bloodied arms did not hinder the warmth of his body as they held against his daughter's frail form with enough delicacy to offer her as much emotional comfort as he possibly could, but with enough strength to prevent her from slipping free and indulging in her delusionary state.

 

 

"What are you going to do with him, father? Tell me!" her attention snapped toward him as he slowly carried her outside. The tent flaps fell back in place all too hastily, as if cruelly intending to deny her any further watch upon her beloved mentor. Her cheeks, still sensitive from the light burns she had sustained, had grown soft from her tears as they tirelessly pumped free from her eyes like an endless torrent and soaked her skin thoroughly.

 

"Answer me! What are you going to do?!" she pleaded with the nuhn desperately in vain, her hysteria growing more wild as his lack of response only brought her closer to the answer, another answer she so badly wanted to deny. K'nahli pressed her face into her father's chest tightly, seeking comfort and hope from the soft rhythm of his beating heart. A number of soft, muffled sobs stemmed out from her throat and echoed through her father in the form of soft, indecipherable murmurs as another crushing wave of sorrow crashed down over her.

 

"Please.... please don't put him in the ground..." her voice had become so, very, soft and fragile now as she spoke. The words were barely audible, though just enough that K'yohko could still understand in spite of her pitiful, clouding whimpers.

 

"I won't...... I won't ever see him again if you do.."

 

She continued to weep softly for a short moment before a very, light inhale indicated yet another attempt at self control as she slowly released herself from the burrowing pressure she had placed upon her father and brought herself to meet eyes with him. Her watery stare shimmered tragically against the faint, saffron glow emanating from a nearby campfire. Her tortured eyes only echoed the grief she was enduring as they pierced fearfully into his for a brief moment while she nervously waited for her convulsing body to relent and give her the chance to speak, unhindered by neither sobs nor tremors.

 

"I don't want to hate you.... please.. don't make me hate you"

 

 

Throughout the young miqo'te's life, her father's stony expression had been a source of her strength in her weaker moments. Though they hadn't shared a particularly special relationship, K'nahli had always held her father in high regard. In her young eyes, his power as a warrior and seldom-expressed, but everlasting, gentle nature had left him no less than a gleaming icon in her quietly-lived life; a person she could only aspire to be half as strong as when she came of age.

His steady gaze, perceived by many as something cold and uncaring spoke to her only of strength and composure. Before today, she hadn't ever seen it falter, not even once. It had always been an assurance that he was in control and that no matter what happened, he was there; resilient and proud... their silent protector.

 

Up until now, that gaze hadn't once failed to place her mind at ease, it had always offered her nothing but unfaltering confidence and a comforting sense of placid serenity.

 

Tonight, everything changed.

 

His defiance in that moment, his absolute determination to deny his first-born daughter what her heart yearned so desperately for, created a boiling sensation of savage hatred in her chest. It rose high up inside her, churning viciously as serenity was soon replaced with spite.. and confidence quickly replaced with a loss of faith.

 

Anger, however, was soon swallowed by devastating grief once more, quickly sending the frail girl into another fit of sobs. She threw herself back into his chest instinctively as both her body and mind desperately sought an end to the pain in her heart. Even in that moment where she could feel nothing but undying resent towards her own father, all she could do was embrace him even more tightly, forever seeking the comfort of his presence.

 

 

Swallowed whole by a vicious swell, raw emotion drowned out all sound to the young miqo'te as she clung despairingly on to her crumbling rock for dear life. Ceaseless sobs tore out of her throat to the point that even crying became intolerably painful. Her wails of anguish resonated throughout her body, carrying outward and drawing attention to physical aches that she hadn't even known existed. The black abyss of despair consumed her weak form, dragging her down deeper and deeper until the last of the light, her single ray of optimistic hope that had lingered for so long had finally begun to fade. On the other side, the fleeting silhouette of a familiar tia bounded further and further away.

A weak hand reached outward in a final, twisted attempt to deny the reality that had presented itself before her, but to no avail.

 

 

Everything went dark in that dying moment.

 

The young miqo'te, K'nahi Yohko, was lost forever.

[Naunet]

The thought K'piru had not finished in the tent K'ile had hidden them away in coalesced into action a day and a half later. During this brief time, the bereaved mother drifted in a shell-shocked silence as K'ile, struggling in his own mind and with his own body, did all he could to anchor her. The food he had brought remained largely untouched, the water drank only out of absolute necessity. As the hours ticked by, the air in the tent grew dense with thoughts unspoken and tears that had run dry.

 

The air had cooled significantly at some point, suggesting to K'piru as she pulled herself slowly to some measure of external awareness that it was night. She smelled K'ile before she saw him, the scent sparking a pain in her chest that left her breath short and her eyes burning uselessly. He lay next to her on his side, body still save for a faint sign of breathing.

 

He seemed asleep, or unconscious.

 

Her limbs ached and protested, joints moving with stiff reluctance as she slowly unfolded her legs beneath her to stand in the tent. Small tremors shook her, echoes of a grief that still clouded her thoughts. For a time, she simply stood still in the tent, trying to ignore K'ile's scent, the flashes of memory, of her daughters' smiles or Thalen's warm hands. She tried to ignore the fire that raged as a nightmare in her mind and that left a pit deep in her belly charred black and empty.

 

K'piru had wanted K'ile's comforts to be enough, but the pain was not receeding, and even his simple presence seemed only to make it worse. The guilt that hazy thought came paired with nearly brought her to her knees again, but instead she stumbled forward sightlessly until she was, very suddenly, standing outside under a sky obscured by a shadow of smoke and dust. She didn't remember walking, but once she started, she found she couldn't stop.

 

Like a ghost, K'piru slipped wearily around the edge of the small camp, expression dazed and lost and desperate. In the twisting of her chest, that fiery grip around her heart, she found only a need to escape. Her daughters voices haunted her, and she turned many times to her left or right at a familiar weight at her side only to find Thalen's memory fade and burn. These delirious thoughts pestered her at a frenetic pace, dogged her every step until she wanted to drop into the sand, scream, and simply die. Her body did not obey this want, however, and through the shroud of ghosts around her, the only other way she could think to flee those faces and smells and memories was to leave entirely.

 

In the middle of the night, without a single word to the rest of the remaining tribe, K'piru simply disappeared. If one checked later, they would find a chocobo missing - the eldest and least valuable - as well as a small portion of water, though no food.

 

***

 

Hunger had caught up to him. By the time he'd tried to eat anytihng, shivering and pale, his body was ready to collapse, and so it had. K'ile lay still in an exhausted haze at K'piru's side, taking solace at least in the fact that she was fairing better than he was. As long as he survived, and she did better than he did, then she would be just fine. He stared up at her, but all he saw was shadows. All he heard was his own breath.

 

K'ile concentrated on the scent of her, as it wavered in the tent, as the stink of death and fire seeped in and tried to obscure it. He held the scent at the front of his mind, and for maybe a few seconds, he actually pondered why he so feverishly needed to reach K'piru, and way she was so intangible. The answer he found strangled him, though, smothering out his thoughts and senses until all that was left was inky numbness and the strong, all-important scent of K'piru at his side.

 

The scent decieved him, though, for it lingered longer than she did. When he was finally able to stir from his state of exhaustion, his body's desperate pleas for food, water and sleep were like distant echoes that he just barely heard, and ignored outright. K'piru's scent had aged. She was gone.

 

The Tia was a pathetic thing tracking that scent around camp, picking out the shaman's footprints in the sand. She'd gone this way, then there, where was she going? To him, there was nothing else around him. There were no tents, no tribe, the smell of fire and the ehat of the desert were just the sensations of an empty world.

 

It wasn't difficult, once he'd tracked her to the chocobos, to discern what she had done. He didn't even need to count them. The mingling smells and the tracks in the sand told him everything he needed to know.

 

He lingered in his haze, for a time. His body was shivering. He'd stopped sweating, dehydrated. There was a voice of reason in his mind, shaking him, telling him to go find food.

 

K'ile wasn't the best at riding chocobos. He hated the animals so greatly that he refused to even take one on hunt. But everything was upside-down right now. Any sense of comfort or reason, even basic needs like food, were now secondary to this new, bizarre need that he did not completely understand. He thought, it probably wasn't even about K'piru, and yet...

 

He'd taken the first Chocobo he'd been able to get his hands on, barely taking the time to throw a saddle on it, securing its straps with his shaking fingers, before he took off to follow K'piru. The desert around him was wounded, with vast black scars, but he onyl cared about the scent of K'piru and the chocobo she'd taken.

 

***

 

K'piru had found north, an easy task even in her half-delirious state thanks to decades of plotting the skies of Sagolii, and set the old, confused chocobo on its path. She had no real concept of what lied beyond the desert save for scattered stories of trading towns brought back by tribe members on their occasional forays for goods, but as she half lay over the chocobo's back, hands shaking around its reigns, K'piru found this didn't matter. She wouldn't stop in Thanalan. She knew it wouldn't be far enough.

 

For a brief moment, she wondered if she could find the battlefield K'ile had returned from, but no sooner had this thought skittered across her mind did she recoil from it. Against the backs of her eyelids, she saw the bodies of her daughters, of Thalen, splayed out on decimated ground and shriveled the same black as the corpses she had spent an endless week tending to already. Her stomach wrenched and she nearly toppled from the chocobo's back as she gagged back bile, then buried her face in the feathers ringing its neck. The beast chirped in confusion but continued on; she hadn't given it the signal to stop.

 

The dunes rolled by unnoticed by K'piru. At some point, the chocobo's pace slowed as it tired, and she became aware of a dull hunger pressing at the edges of her stomach. It had not seemed right to take much from the tribe, not even in her manic state, and she knew enough about the lay of the Sagolii to find her way to food of some kind when she needed it. But for now, the grief in her gut crowded out much of the hunger.

 

She didn't notice when the chocobo lifted and turned its head, sensing the approach of someone familiar.

 

There was no hesitation in K'ile's approach. He spurned his chocobo into a full run as he sensed himself nearing the source of the scent, and the younger, stronger chocobo caught up the K'piru's easily. Overcoming the summit of one final dune, K'ile's mount uttered a warble to alert him, and he urged it in the direction. He instructed it to ride faster, not slower, as they approached, and the only thing that stopped the two birds from colliding was the stubborn good sense of K'ile's Chocobo. It stopped and squawked, feet tearing up the sand, feathers on its neck rubbing against the feathers of the other bird.

 

"K'piru!" K'ile said, harsh and breathy, reaching out and taking hold of the reins of her bird. "What are you doing!?"

 

For several, long seconds, K'piru sat in confusion, hands hanging limp where they had once held the reins. Then that achingly familiar scent caught up to her senses, bringing with it memories that once had been warm and caring but now carried only fire and death. She cowered as though hiding from it, or K'ile's words, or K'ile himself.

 

"I can't," she whispered, voice cracking. The chocobo beneath her had stopped and had begun to exchange a few, quiet chirps with K'ile's, but K'piru tried to urge it forward. "It's too much. Just leave me... leave me be. It's better--" She could feel her throat clenching and her body wrapping around sobs, but she'd run out of tears a day ago. That didn't mean it hurt any less. But it was better. She was useless to the tribe like this, and she knew, without any shadow of doubt, that she could not overcome this. Not like she had overcome K'aijeen's loss. This was just too much.

 

His hand tightened on the reins of K'piru's chocobo. They tightened so his hand hurt, and his teeth ground. He could feel himself starving, but for everything except food. The woman felt far away, and she was getting farther. "That's not..." She didn't understand. She wasn't listening. "K'piru, there is nowhere to go. The world is barren. It is empty. And there's nothing in the tribe, either! There's just... us." He pulled against the leather, and looked down into the sand. "I could be everything K'thalen was, if you need me to be. I'll learn how."

 

"You can't!" K'piru nearly screamed into the empty night, and her thoughts flashed back to that singular, first moment - stifling heat, the shadows of a tent, and that grinning boy promising he wouldn't give away her secret, that he'd let her be what she wanted. Then that boy was wreathed in flame, his image shrouded in smoke, and there was nothing she could do. He had left her. Her daughters had left her. She was alone.

 

"You can't!" She repeated and turned her face to finally look at K'ile, eyes wide and shaking. "They're gone! Nothing--no one can replace... I can't be..." She could only hold the look for a few seconds before the sight of him became too much and, feeling utterly trapped with the ghosts closing in all around, she slid down the opposite side of her chocobo and dropped unsteadily into the sand. It wasn't rational. It wasn't reasonable. To anyone but K'piru, it would have been an act of stupity. But she could not be here. It was all she knew.

 

"I can," he said, but the words were uncertain and weak. "You just... Won't accept..." K'ile wrenched his hand free of the other chocobo's reins and threw his arm out angrily, "I'm not trying to replace anything! I'm not Thalen! But I know I can be enough if you'd just accept that! I'm alive! But that doesn't mean anything to you!"

 

She started to walk. The chocobo K'piru had taken turned its head to watch her and shifted its large feet in the sand anxiously. At his words, she flinched, hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms about her stomach in a childish gesture. The tattered and dust-and-blood stained wrappings she word shook in a faint, brief breeze just like her voice shook when she spoke without looking at him, "It means..."

 

She swallowed. She should be glad K'ile had made it back. If not happy, then at least relieved. Maybe she could have been if his return had not also meant the absence of his brother. There was a keen guilt in that acknowledgement; K'ile didn't deserve resentment, didn't deserve the arrow of her grief and cowardice.

 

"It means you should go back to camp, and care for the others left alive," she finally managed. Her tone was low, defeated, lost. In a far corner of her mind, where the flames did not reach but for the press of thick shadow, a somber voice told her that whether she made it out of Thanalan or died in the desert didn't matter. At least she would escape.

 

"And what if I don't care about the others?" K'ile steered his chocobo towards her, causing more confusion in the older bird that she had abandoned. The thing warbled in bemusement and followed awkwardly. K'ile followed K'piru slowly, distantly, as though there were some reason to stay away from her. "What if you're the only thing left I care about? What if I'd rather go with you into that empty world than go back to the tribe alone?"

 

Squeezing her eyes shut until she saw small spots of light against the backs of her eyelids, bright flashes that echoed the seemingly sourceless explosions of flames that had battered the tribe to ashes, K'piru hesitated but did not stop her walking. She couldn't. Her legs moved without her conscious input, carrying her slowly away from the ghosts.

 

Then without warning she stopped, so suddenly that her body swayed forward before she jerked in place, spinning around to stare wide-eyed at K'ile. Her chest ached, heart pounding wildly against the cage of her ribs, the dull beat of blood mixing with the roar of flames in her ears. She wanted to flee and hide and cry and scream. Instead she found her voice tearing from her throat in a broken shout, "I can't keep you with me!" A blinding heat distorted her vision, and she leaned back, turned away, suddenly breathless. "I can't," she added smaller, quieter. "I need to go away. You need to..."

 

In a sudden bout of frustration, K'ile kicked himself off of his chocobo suddenly enough that the bird started in ran a short distance away. The Tia hit the sand heavily and reached out to grab K'piru by one arm. He considered, however briefly, forcing her to stay. He could hold her until she came to her senses, and she would come to her senses. She might die out here in the desert if she just walked off like this. Especially if she walked off like this.

 

"K'piru, we need each other. You want to run away, but you need to stay." He felt the muscles in his arm and hand lock down about his grip on her arm, his fingers numb. "Everything will be alright, if you stay. I promise."

 

"Please don't," the words shook from deep in her chest as she leaned away from K'ile, against the pull of his hand. She didn't want to hear his words, didn't want any more reminders what she was abandoning, what she had no choice in abandoning. 

 

His scent pressed in all around her, suffocating. His voice merged with the warmer tones of Thalen's, and she cried out, suddenly frenetic in her attempts to get away. "Just leave me alone! I don't want you to--I need to go! I can't... Leave me to die if I so choose!"

 

Part of him tried to let go, but most of him couldn't. Just like his starving body was supposed to be seeking desperately after food, he was driven to hold onto her, to drag her back. "You choose to abandon home, and family. You won't be okay. I won't be okay! There is nothing! Why would you choose that?"

 

He pulled her towards him, a forceful gesture. "I'm not going to let you walk off and die. You wouldn't even make it out of the desert like this."

 

Wasn't that half of the point? If she died out here, if she made it out of the desert, out of Thanalan - it made no difference. The flames had held no pity for her daughters or Thalen; she would take none either. When he dragged her forward, K'piru brought her other hand up between them, palm flat against his chest as though to ward him away. Her face she turned away from him, denying his presence as much as she could.

 

"I don't need you," she choked out, shivering with overwhelming emotion. "I need my daughters. I need Thalen. I don't--not you. I need /them/, not you!" Her hand curled into a fist and she slammed it against K'ile's chest with her last cry.

 

K'ile let go of Antimony suddenly, releasing all the force with which she was pulling away, and said sternly, "You don't get to die."

 

Behind K'ile, both chocobos chuffed and chirped in agitation, sensing their riders' distress but unsure of the source. When K'ile released her, K'piru stumbled back, nearly falling into the sand. When her feet found purchase, she hunched away from K'ile, hugging herself.

 

How could she respond to that? Her mind churned, along with her stomach, and soon those ghosts of memories were vying for her attention once more. She couldn't bring herself to say that it wasn't his place to tell her such things, that if he had lost as much as she... but that wasn't fair. K'piru knew it wasn't fair, but it hurt too much to care. She shuddered and could only beg once again, down towards the sand, "Please, just let me go."

 

K'ile turned and took hold of the reins of both of the chocobo. His hair hid his features, and in the dark, his fire-red hair seemed dim, as if burned down to a coal. His tail hung limp about his legs. "I could just force you back to camp and hold you there. You would get over this. You would learn to live, if you just waited."

 

"No," she uttered, the word dropping from her lips like a stone, matching the weight pulling down her gut. Her ears drooped, nearly disappearing in disheveled hair. "Not with--not with you... with everyone... Without Thalen. My--my baby girls." The words came with effort and from a tight throat, but the tone was final and somber, as though delivering a death sentence.

 

Walking back to K'piru, reins of both chocobos in one hand, the birds seemed hesitant but complied. They both huffed and pulled back in surprise when K'ile reached out and grabbed K'piru by her clothes, just at her neck, pulling her towards him again. "You don't get to die. Not when the whole reason we went out there was to protect you. Respect that. It's why they're dead."

 

A strangled noise of protest escaped her throat as he spoke, and she tried to pull away from him, shutting her eyes tight. "No, it's--that's not--I didn't ask him--I didn't ask them to... it's not my fault!" She shrieked and turned, heedless of his grip on her clothes, and shoved roughly at him. "Don't say that--I couldn't stop them! I didn't want them to go! I want them..." Her limbs went limp, including her tail. "I want them back..."

 

When she turned away from K'ile, there was the sound of tearing cloth, but he ignored it. On impulse, he let go of the reins and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her against his body with a powerful desperation. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I should have brought them back. K'piru, you can run if you want to. But you can't die."

 

K'piru sobbed lowly, hanging limp in his arms. Like this, with her back pressed against him, if she closed her eyes, she could almost...

 

"Let me leave," she shuddered out, and her hands moved up to clutch at the forearm holding her firmly in place. She didn't pull and struggle against it, though, just gripped it white-knuckled. A long silence settled over them until, barely audible over the dull thudding of her heart in her ears, "It's okay. I won't... I won't die. Please just let me go."

 

"K'piru," he exhaled, and lowed his head so it was against hers, filling his senses with her smell and warmth, and the taste of the air she breathed. "You're my sister. I love you. Be alright." And then K'ile ripped himself from her and stepped quickly away, almost stumbling. He spun so he wasn't looking at her anymore, taking another step. "And take the chocobos. Trade them for supplies. No arguing."

 

When K'ile removed himself, K'piru felt suddenly very, impossibly small, a single grain of sand in an endless desert beneath an equally endless sky. She felt as though she would be crushed by the weight of that perception, but then he spoke again.

 

She lifted her head, blinking slowly through the tears that still refused to fall in confusion and turning her head slightly to catch K'ile's form out of the corner of her eyes. "You..." She couldn't finish the thought, tried to swallow back the sob that wanted to stutter from her chest, clawed at the loneliness that settled in at his actions. This is what she needed.

 

She wouldn't argue though. Her head bowed and she sighed out, "Okay."

 

Okay.

 

K'ile paused, and his entire body seemed to tanse to the breaking point and shutter against its confines. In that moment, K'ile had a thousand thoughts about K'piru, each of them unwise, beyond reason, and impulsive. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to cry. He wanted to carry her back to the tribe kicking and screaming. He wanted to set her on fire and watch her burn. He wanted to throw her down in the sand and...

 

And he wanted to do all of it, right then. K'ile decided to do everything that occured to him, and to do them all at once, but when he tried to move in a thousand different directions, he just stood still and closed his eyes. In his chest, he uttered a curse so powerful that it had no words, no thought. It was the darkest thing he'd ever felt, a point of black that would make even the scales of the dragon that slew Thalen seem bright by comparison.

 

But in all of this, he paused only a moment, before he continued to walk away.

 

K'piru did not move, did not breathe. She said nothing as K'ile walked away, though her ears strained to catch the fading shift of his feet in the sands. When another gust of wind picked up, she felt as though she would join the sands, broken apart into a million pieces and washed away in the dunes, forever forgotten.

 

As the sounds grew so distant that they merged with the white noise of the desert, she was gripped with a desperate urge to turn and charge after him. She even felt her legs moving, muscles burning and straining to carry her through the sand, but when she blinked, K'piru realized she had not moved at all. One of the chocobos chirped behind her, a low trill, and nudged its head against her back.

 

Something hollow and dead tolled in her head, echoing against the inside of her skull, and K'piru dropped to her knees in the sand. One hand moved to loosely grip the reins of the chocobo that had wandered near.

 

She remained quiet and alone in the sands until well into the morning. Then, when the last of the dew was evaporating off what few plants eked out an existence in the Sagolii, she stood, climbed onto one of the chocobos, and continued on the same northward path she had begun.