I don’t try to do much more than smile politely when Najya mentions how ‘well I’ve fared on my journey’—for fear that the tears that sting might surge free, or that these silent sobs might roar into cries of frustration and anger with the world and all of its unfairness and brutality. Yes, I have made it to—Helovia—alive, but that doesn’t do anything to sway justice or happiness in my favor. The hellhounds of that godforsaken oasis still bite at my heels, and the flames of its sins still burn through every memory (even every sip of joy) that I’ve ever had. Tell me—how is that ‘faring well’?

But I don’t dare challenge the russet mare with questions even I can’t fathom the answers to. I have long since given up trying to make sense of the world’s injustice, or trying to understand the reasons why some things happen to those who least deserve it. (Why pompous, cruel men sit comfortably on their wealth and women, while the humble ‘filth’ of society is only being pushed further and further into the dirt). I swallow these things like I have always done, shuddering from reasons other than the bitter cold.

With large, flat eyes and hollow breaths, I listen when Najya suggests some food and drink. “I—” Instinctively I begin to reject her offer, never wanting to trouble anyone else or be more of a burden than I already am. However, I am suddenly, painfully aware of the dryness of my throat and the throbbing of my empty stomach; I try to remember the last time I had drank or eaten anything. “I could probably use some water, thank you,” I dip my head to her again, barely making eye contact.

The winter wind howls distantly through the trees. It’s deeper than the whistling moans of the desert, the frost biting like the sands, and grating against my skin until I feel both numb and sore at the same time. With one ear slanting back against the cold, I train the other towards Najya, limply cupping her words. She calls her home the Dragon’s Throat, and explains that there are three other herd lands in Helovia. With a twist in my gut, I realize that perhaps it is not unlike the politics of my own home; how each region is divided, fending for their own people, alienated from one another. I wonder if there are carnal oases like that of my own desert prison home; where empty promises were whispered and sweet nothings forced from bared teeth while you give up your body for the lonely hope of food. Where the poison of reality is glossed over and hidden by the flare of bright colors and supple hips.

“The desert does offer many things,” I whisper brokenly, uncertain if the others would even be able to hear me (and unsure if I even want them to). There are too many secrets within Dorobian sands that I clutch close to my heart (and not for their precious qualities, but for the contrary—for their black, writhing, and venomous nature, secrets that should not escape their obsidian, locked prison).
They mustn’t know.

Feeling the increasing throb of my heart in my throat and the quickening of cursory, rasping breaths in my ears, I turn my eyes away. Feverishly I blink away the threat of tears, clearing my vision of the brief blur of mangled emotions. They will only recognize it as exhaustion, I try to reassure myself, hoping that it is convincing enough. Fighting the urge to simply run, I lean back on my haunches, closing my eyes tightly and holding a breath before I return to the conversation. “I do appreciate your offer. It would be nice to rest a little while and get my bearings in order,” I direct most of my attention towards Najya, though my eyes soon flicker towards Kiuaji. “I appreciate your concern as well, Sir.”

I say it out of courtesy more than anything. While his concern, if genuine, is appreciated, there is a larger part of me that would just rather be ignored. A conversation is often far too difficult and strenuous to sustain between strangers. “Uhm,” I stutter before continuing, shifting my weight and turning my eyes again to the other woman, “Where is this water you mentioned? If you wouldn’t mind, I should probably rehydrate before I start travelling again; I might not make it much farther otherwise.” I attempt a humorless laugh, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I tell myself that it won’t be long before I can relax again.
Soon it will be over.


notes; SO excited!! First pony in the Throat :D
“Speech.”