[Flashback] What We Once Were

[Hirem]

71st Day of Summer, 505 A.V.
[Private, Tag: Nahali]

Hirem wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm, blinking in the fierce desert sun. His body ached with weariness, feet sore and painful in his sandals. His tunic was damp from the sweat of his exertions, providing another uncomfortable aspect of his travels through the desert. Yet he could not go back, and he could not rest. All around him was the endless sands of the Burning Lands, occasionally dotted with vegetation. Other than that, he was a simple dark speck in an otherwise pristine sand ocean. He sighed, and started to trudge forward.

All around him was the sound of the Burning Land; the simple, shifting sound of sands churning about in the wind, a sound that provided both comfort and madness. The sun blazed up above in the sky, a constant reminder to press forward and find shelter. Every man, woman and beast in the desert served the sun's will; in the desert, the sun dictated everything. Hirem, in his isolated and long travels, privately wondered why the sun was so cruel.

Hirem, despite his physical exhaustions, enjoyed this time in the desert. Away from the din of Yahebah, he had a quiet, solitary life meant for reflection and pondering. He didn't even try to think about what his destination was. Yahal was picking his every step out, laying down every trail that Hirem would travel. His mind was left to its own devices, questioning the strange dream he had recieved many days ago. The answer to the dream had not yet come upon him, but he trusted his god. Eventually, all things would be revealed to the faithful.

Still, he had to worry about food and water, which was not laid out in his pre-determined path. His pack was heavy and full on his tired back, but he still found some nights wanting. He was able to keep up his food supplies by finding a Benshiran tent and aiding them in their tasks, who then supplied him with a decent amount of food, and Hirem would set off again. Life lasted this way, but sometimes he ached for lasting company.

What he really ached for right now was a place to rest, talk and be merry, like the Mashas of his tent. He remembered those young days fondly, but he was content to travel on this path of Yahal. With that in mind, he started to pick up his pace, travelling swiftly over the dunes and rises, letting his god pick out his way for him.

[Nahali]

As Nahali gently urged her flock along unde the supervision of her youngest uncle Labran, she blithely sang one of the walking songs the shepherds had taught her:

"Oh, I am an owl of the desert
An owl of the desert, oh!
My eyes of gold are sharp and keen
To watch the mice come and g-"

She cut off in the middle of her song and pointed in the distance, where she'd just spotted a dark speck against the sand. Excited, she called out to Labran, who was lagging behind the goats to keep a lookout for strays, "Uncle, uncle! What's that ahead of us? Do you think it might be something dangerous, like a jackal or a wolf?"

Heeding her cry, her uncle took a look and burst into laughter. Even muffled behind his head-covering, the sound was enough to make her flush in embarrassment. "No, child, that's only a rock. It might be dangerous to your foot if you stepped on it, though."

Nahali grumbled to herself. Everyone was always praising Uncle Labran's clear eyesight and saying how he could spot a hopping-mouse at three hundred paces.Whenever she tried to challenge him and show off how sharp her own eyes were, her uncle would always correct her. Even so, Nahali couldn't help trying now and then anyway. After affirming for herself that the dark speck was indeed a harmless rock, she resumed her interrupted song.

"An owl of the desert, oh!
Soaring high above the sands
I live a life that's wild and free
Deep inside the burning lands

For I am an owl of the desert
An owl of the desert, oh!
Upon the desert wind I ride
And-"

Abruptly, Nahali broke off again when she thought she noticed a faint blur of movement to her left. She squinted her eyes for a closer look, not wanting to give another false alarm. Before Nahali could raise an alarm, she heard the familiar thwack of a bullet being fired from a shepherd's slingshot. As she spun to watch, the bullet whizzed past and struck the skulking desert jackal right between the eyes. The jackal yelped, and Uncle Labran turned to regard her reproachfully.

"Why didn't you tell me about the jackal?" he scolded her. "I saw you glance that way, so you must've caught sight of it."

After that, Nahali stopped singing altogether and maintained a vigilant scrutiny over her surroundings. When she wasn't guiding the goats through the sand, she was constantly scanning the area around her. As the sun descended low in the sky, she finally noticed something unusual: a moving pinpoint of red and brown moving down the slope of a dune. Immediately, she pointed it out to her uncle. Even he had to narrow his eyes against the setting sun to identify what it was.

"A man. A Benshiran man," he murmured at last. He hurried forward, waving his arm to the approaching speck of color and calling loudly, "Greetings, stranger! Come share the hospitality of our tents."

[Hirem]

Hirem felt the heat of the setting sun behind him and knew he would have to set up camp soon. The Burning Lands could be quite cold at night, which was why Hirem wanted to find a suitable shelter instead of just setting up a tent in the middle of the sand. Still, if he couldn't find anything, he would still be warm enough inside his tent to survive the night. After all, why would Yahal let him die on his journey?

He absentmindedly felt his steps become more vertical, more sluggish. He felt the gradual slope of the ground rising, and he started to put more energy into his footsteps, if only to make the rise of the dune. He bent his head down as he walked up the rise, trying to begin another prayer for Yahal. Yahal, I walk the paths for you. Yahal, I follow in your guidance. I am grateful for all you have given me... Abruptly, he felt his feet start to fall down more than he intended, and he took awareness in his surroundings once more. He was travelling down the large dune now, and from here he could get a nice view of the desert. The only thing that disrupted the perfect golden vista of sand and dust was the two large specks a small distance away, larger than natural rocks. People.

They seemed to notice him too, and the largest speck started to wave it's arms, and on the graceful wind, Hirem heard its call. The cry was one that welcomed him and offered hospitality. He smiled, and started to speed up his walk, eager to reach these new people. Hirem had spent far too long alone these past few days. It would be nice to meet someone new. He raised one arm in greeting, waving it jovially at the newcomers.

[Nahali]

While her uncle hurried forward to greet the man they had just spotted, Nahali stayed behind to watch over the goats. They milled about her legs and bleated plaintively, as eager to return to the tents and the warmth of the evening fires as Nahali was herself. She calmed them with soft words and touches, while watching as her uncle met the man at the foot of the dune and spoke with him animatedly. Idly, she wondered who the lone man was and why he was wandering alone through Eyktol. He was certainly fortunate to have encountered Nahali and her uncle on his journey. Her grand-uncle Abiel always liked to tell the story of how another Tent had taken him and his flock in when he lost his way, and in their memory, he had taught his descendants to be welcoming and generous to all strangers, particularly to other Benshira.

Ahead, Uncle Labran had now taken the stranger's arm and was urging him to follow them back to their camp. The other man, who looked somewhat weary, offered little resistance. Very soon, the two men had caught up with Nahali. She signaled for the goats to return home, and they turned and plodded back without needing further coaxing, while Nahali, her uncle and the newcomer brought up the rear.

"We would be honored to hear of your experiences in the desert," her uncle was saying to the man. "You must take supper with our family tonight and tell us of your journey. I am Labran, of the tents of Abiel, of the sons of Jeroab, and that is my niece Nahali. Once we return to our camp, she will show you where you may find water and a place to rest."

She looked up at the sound of her own name and looked boldly at the man's face. Nahali was startled at how large he was, almost a head taller than her uncle and with broader shoulders. Like all Benshiran men, he wore a light, flowing coat to keep off the sun and wind, as well as a simple head wrap to protect his face. In the fading light, all she could see of his features was the flash of his eyes as he turned his head to regard first her uncle and then herself.

Hastily, Nahali remembered her courtesies and lowered her eyes modestly. "You are welcome to share our tents and our evening meal," she recited solemnly. "Our camp is not far from here. I hope you're hungry, for Mother has been preparing a big pot of lentil stew and spiced lamb since early this morning."

[Hirem]

Hirem wearily let the man take him away to his companion, feeling the sudden flash of fatigue overtake him. Maybe it was the siren's call of a place to rest and have food and drink, but Hirem would like nothing better than to fall atop a warm bedroll and sleep for hours and hours. This wasn't exactly an entirely new process, but it gave him a warm feeling each time, one of acceptance and trust. Benshirans were hospitable and friendly nomads by nature, and this gave Hirem no small degree of pride.

As soon as he saw the goats, Hirem smiled as memories leapt to his mind. Not long ago, he had been in the same position as these two, watching his tent's flocks as if it was his sacred duty on this earth. He felt a little pang of regret, and half-wished that he could go back to that. Still, there was no time like the present, and in the present he wasn't a shepherd, but something else. That mysterious duty was why Hirem had ventured into the desert in the first place. It was definitely not shepherding goats like in his youth.

Hirem took a glance at the girl, the man's niece, and was startled to see her staring at him with something in her eyes. Humbled, even intimidated. As she quickly bowed her head to welcome him and describing the meal that awaited him, he smiled once again. Perhaps it was the head-covering that obscured his features, leaving only the eyes visible.

Hirem lifted a hand, and unclasped the circlet that held the cloth in place, pulling it away from his face and crushing it into a ball. He wrinkled his nose in irritation in the soft wind and his features felt the full force of the sun now, but he felt that it was safe to leave his face bare. He nodded at the girl, giving her a full and happy smile. "That sounds lovely indeed." His Common was spoken with a heavy slur, but it was a Benshiran sort of slur for a people that spoke a vastly different language.

He turned back to the uncle, and gave another smile, inclining his head. "Thank you, Labran. It has been an exhausting day, and I am humbled by your offer. My name is Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa." He quickly raised his hands in defence, chuckling. "Don't mistake me for someone of higher stature though. I am a simple wanderer, not a Rapa."

[Nahali]

Both Nahali and her uncle blinked in surprise when they heard the newcomer, Hirem, respond to their greetings in Common, rather than in the Shiber they had been speaking. Neither had thought it needful to use any other language with a man whose clothing and bearing appeared so distinctively Benshiran. Indeed, Nahali had only recently started learning Common from her parents, so that she might be able to understand and communicate with the traveling traders who occasionally came to Yahebah seeking desert herbs, spices and teas. So far, she only knew a handful of simple words like "sun," "water," and "hello." Thus, most of Hirem's answer was incomprehensible to her, except of course for the Benshiran names.

However, Labran's Common was good enough that he was able to reply in kind, though his words were as heavily slurred as Hirem's. "Any child of Abiyram's blood, whether they be a priest or a goatherder, would be welcome among us. However, if you would be so kind, my niece does not speak Common very well. Perhaps we should use Shiber, so that she will not feel too left out."

While the men spoke in their awkward-sounding language, Nahali busied herself with keeping the goats orderly as they walked back to camp. Every now and then, she darted an inquisitive look at Hirem while she moved among the flock. She was curious about this man who seemed to find Common more natural to speak than Shiber. He carried no traders' packs, as far as she could see, and his feet in their leather sandals were creased and ingrained with yellow-white sand, as though he had been walking through the desert for days. Nahali could deduce nothing from these observations, so she hoped his conversation would prove more telling --- and understandable! --- once they reached camp.

His smile was kindly, though, and not the condescending smile that most men cast her way when they saw how gawky and gangling she was. At age thirteen, her adolescent body had shot up to its full height but had forgotten to notify her flesh to fill out more with muscles or womanly curves. For a while, Nahali had looked like she consisted of nothing but knees and elbows. A year later, the situation had improved a little, but Nahali still felt more like a stumbling yearling colt. She was thankful that Hirem, whether out of understanding or simple politeness, had not immediately regarded her with pity or amusement.

After all, it wasn't like Nahali was a child anymore. By now, she could do most of the things that the adults of her Tent did. There couldn't be that much more that separated her from true adulthood.

[Hirem]

Hirem chuckled at the realization that he had been speaking Common, and quickly switched back to Shiber as they walked in the sands. "I'm sorry for that, Nahali. It's just I've been meeting a lot of people that speak Common, not Shiber. The desert is home to many people, and many languages, after all." Hirem had indeed met other groups than Benshiran tents, though his exchanges with them were which more business-like in nature than his hearty stays at a tent. In truth, he was trying to make Common easier to remember than Shiber for meeting with other people and conversing with them rather than deliberately sticking to Shiber. Who knows, maybe Yahal's grand design for Hirem was one that required sole use of Common.

Hirem smiled out into the desert, happy to know that a safe haven was just around the next few dunes. It was the feeling that all travellers got when they realized their journey was almost at an end, and it was time to rest and relax. Hirem, however, would not have his journey ended any time soon. Still, he was grateful for the chance to be at peace and to stop walking in this endless ocean of sand.

Labran and Nahali both seemed very polite and kindly, and he was relieved to find them very willing to let him rest at their tent. He probably wasn't going to stay much longer than a night, but maybe he would stay longer. Yahal could surely forgive him for that. Hirem definitely had a feeling that this journey and his unknown duty would take a long time to find, and he could afford some relaxation.

"My journeys in the desert, is it? I am afraid they may not be the dangerous adventures and wild tales that many like to hear, but if you still wish to hear them, I would be honored. You, after all, may find my life more exciting than I do, and conversely, I may find your life more satisfying than mine. Who knows?"

Hirem shifted his gaze to the goat herd, and examined them as a shepherd did, inspecting each one as if a delicate newborn child. "This is a beautiful flock, nice and strong animals. I trust that they have been good to you and your tent?"

[Nahali]

As Nahali and her uncle led the way back to their tents, they both affirmed that their Tent had been blessed with healthy and numerous goats, which their shepherds worked hard to maintain. Hirem made a few more polite inquiries about the state of their flocks, revealing an understanding of herding and animals that delighted both Nahali and Labran. Nahali especially prided herself on being on such good terms with her goats that she often boasted she knew them all by name, so she tried to answer as many of Hirem's questions as she could. Their lively conversation made the trek back to their encampment go by much more quickly as darkness fell around them.

As promised, once they reached the stretch of sands upon which the thirty-odd tents of their Tent had been established, Labran took charge of the goats while Nahali led Hirem away to where he could refresh himself. Despite her light, skipping steps and easy smiles, it was clear Nahali took her duties very seriously. Inside her family's tent, she offered him a cushion to sit on and a plate of olives from Yahebah with all the solemnity of a ritual.

"The evening meal will be served in half a chime," she announced self-importantly, glancing outside the tent flap at the darkening sky. "Then will come the time of Masha, of course. Because it will be warmer tonight, there will be singing and dancing. You should tell your stories as well, if you would not mind."

For a few moments, Nahali fell silent to allow Hirem to eat and rest in peace. After a while, though, her curiosity got the best of her and she asked, "What made you set off on your own like this? A man who knows animals as you do should have a good place in any Tent. Are you on some sort of secret quest, maybe?"

[Hirem]

Hirem almost collapsed in relief when he reached the tent. Instead, he just sat down on the cushion immediately after she offered it. His muscles started to relax and he felt his eyes droop for a second. Guess I was more tired than I thought. He forced himself awake and blinked when she offered the plate of olives. Slowly grabbing the plate and setting it on his lap, he grabbed a large juicy black one that caught his eye. Eating it carefully, he smiled, and set the bowl to the side of the cushion, chewing the rest of the olive thoroughly.

When she asked about his journey, Hirem glanced up at Nahali. Tall, stumbling girl caught in the time of growing, stuck between one place and another. He remembered that age well, though he didn't grow up physically as awkward, already being a large boy. She showed promise however, with a serious attitude to her jobs, no matter how trivial, and that was something Hirem admired. Yes, this girl would soon grow out of this strange period and turn into a strong and dutiful woman.

Hirem frowned, thinking of ways to describe this venture of his. Finally, he shrugged. "Secret quest seems like a good way to put it. I can't really tell you what it is I'm out here for because it's something that speaks to every fibre of my being, but no one else, like an instinct. I just had the inclination to leave my home and walk deep into the desert, searching for something. A purpose." Hirem half-chuckled, staring blankly, deep in his own thoughts. "Maybe I'll never know what that something is."

He glanced back at Nahali, and lost the deep, brooding look, instead taking on another gracious smile. "Really, though, it's not something that should concern you and your family. All you need to know is that I am a weary desert wanderer that is grateful for your family's help."

[Nahali]

Nahali listened, puzzled but respectful. Hirem's talk of a secret quest that spoke to him alone reminded her irresistibly of how Biyram left his father's lands to create a new nation in Eyktol. She looked Hirem over again, wondering if she could divine a sense of holiness about him or if he only imagined Yahal had a special purpose for him in mind. But who could tell? Had any of Biyram's brothers or father known that he was the favored of Yahal? She rather thought not.

Yet, the secrecy he maintained about his quest irked her a little. Perhaps he did not wish to be thought a madman for venturing out alone to search for something he didn't even know, or perhaps the scope of his quest truly was beyond her understanding. But she had been enjoying how he addressed her as an equal, or at least nearly an equal, rather than as a child, the way everyone else she knew did. That was the disadvantage of living your entire life surrounded by the same people, Nahali thought sourly. No one saw you as you are, because they were so used to thinking of you as you were. Maybe there were some merits to just walking out by yourself into the desert for a while!

At the same moment that she realized she had fallen silent, leaving an awkward gap in the conversation, she also realized that Hirem likely didn't mind, considering the contented way he was munching on his second olive. Nevertheless, Nahali spoke up again. "You must be very brave to undergo this quest," she began, then stopped at once. What a foolish thing to say! If Yahal had spoken to this man and told him what to do, then of course he would do it if he had any faith at all. Bravery didn't enter into it.

She tried again. "I believe that you will indeed find that 'something' you are searching for. Yahal has a place and a purpose for all of us. Perhaps it is the wandering itself that is your purpose, and you are fulfilling it this very moment." At that idea, Nahali made a slight face. "It would be a difficult purpose, if that were so. Surely, it cannot be easy journeying alone, especially in the heat of summer."