It was a full day until Mede returned. gany had covered a lot of ground and slept at the home of a grandma she’d helped collect fruit. the next morning she offered her water and a lengthy story about how she ended up alone, which was rather unheard of in this land. usually, children stayed within their parents until they married and even then they’d move their parents back in with their new family. this old woman was the survivor of her family after a Djamon attack some years before. half of her village had been taken, she’d recalled with glistening eyes.

  “But God saves who He wills and I was a lucky chosen one. I will always count my blessings.” said the old woman. She pressed some mangoes and peanuts wrapped in cloth into Gany’s hands and bid her farewell, waving until Gany could no longer see her over the hill and shrubbery.

  Despite her slow pace Gany could already feel the trickles of sweat about her body and she raised the back of her hand to her forehead. Her coils hair had already begun to stick to her forehead and she could feel her temperature rise as though the sun best in front of her face. The sand was of no help either as it seemed to reflect the heat back up at her, wrapping her from below and above in inescapable warmth. Just then, a cool shade shadowed her head. She turned around to see Mede skulking behind her, a wing extended. It simply nodded ands] she nodded back in acknowledgement.

  “So what lonely soul did you suck this time?” Said Gany casually. She kicked a pile of rocks apart as she walked and a flurry of lizards scattered to find shade.

  “Far away.” It said, as if to say it was unimportant. This was true, as usually they didn’t see any consequences for one or two missing people from Mede’s feedings.

  “It better be,” said Gany. “I don’t wanna get caught for what you do and you keep using my body. Someone might recognise me.”

  Mede huffed. It never spoke more than it needed to and today was the epitome of that.

  They walked in silence the rest of the day, pausing by a well where goat and camel herders watered their animals so that Gany could rest her feet and eat her mango. Mede glanced at it in question.

  “A nice grandma gave it to me.” She said. Under the shade of an acacia, the smell of burning wood filled her nostrils her eyes followed it to a man bent crouched by a fire, prodding and poking it. He set a metal teapot ontop of the crackling wood which no doubt had water in it and probably cardamom and tea leaves. Mede scowled at the sight.

  “Why tea? It’s so hot.’”

  Gany laughed. She’d never thought of this before. It was such a normal occurrence to drink tea on hot and cool days that she’d never thought to consider it from an outsiders perspective. Now that she did it made perfect sense why Mede was bewildered. The workings of humans sometimes transcended rational action. Tradition was in the bones of their society and no more was it evident than where that made crouched with a long line of herders forming nearby. To think these thirsty, heat lagged men and women would exacerbate their condition by indulging in a hot drink was akin to a bird making a nest to lay its eggs. She’d never taken account how her body felt when she did drink tea but now, she could feel the warm beverage in on her tongue and throat. This heat was not like that of fire or sun, this heat was the warm embrace of a loved one. Tea was often drunk in company and every memory that arose was paired with a face and a feeling. Nights spent sipping tea and conversing with her sisters, or evenings with her elders in the lanai, mornings with her mother as they prepared breakfast and tea and bonded over their care for their family.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Nothing would bring that back now.

  She buried the mango pit in the dry sand, which Mede also cocked her head at, and set off to walk again. Mede grabbed her by the shoulder.

  “He follows us.” It said, tilting it’s head behind them. Gany peered around to see a tall, slender man. She instinctively held her pouch with one hand and the back of her waist with the other where she kept her dagger. The man raised his long arms and splayed his equally long fingers in surrender.

  “I come in peace,” he said warily. He glanced between the two women before him. Gany didn’t budge. “You’re from Baido right?”

  Gany tensed up. “So?”

  “I-“ he paused and swept his arm under his robes. Gany stepped back and Mede inserted itself between the two. He brandished something soft and faded from his cloak.

  “Why do you have that!” She demanded. Tears began to well in her eyes. It was the toy elephant she’d sewn for her baby. She tightened her grip on the dagger and then, as though the man sensed this, he got hunkered down on one knee and held the toy out to her.

  “I’m also from Baido. I knew your husband, Subane. May God rest his soul, and everyone else’s.” He put the toy down, realising she wasn’t going to take it from his hand, but then she grabbed it and held it to her chest, one hand still on the dagger. She could still smell the faint remains of smoke on the fabric. Slowly, she lowered her hand from her weapon and his shoulders relaxed at the same time. He was not a threat anymore.

  “How did you get this?” She said.

  “I was coming back from work and saw the remains of our village. My family was gone so I looked for my friends or anyone else and found this in your home,” he took a slow, deep breath. It seemed he was also afflicted with haunting memory, or anger or grief, the same darkness that clouded Gany’s eyes whenever she thought of her home. In some way, he was less lucky for at least she saw with her own eyes the tragedy of events. She had proof of the disaster that befell her people. He did not. He likely returned from work expecting life but witnessing death, or rather the remains of it. He held a hollow feeling in his chest for the gap between existence and ruin.

  “Thank you.” She said it so softly, as though it was meant in private for her little elephant, but he heard her well enough that some corner of the hole in his chest cracked. Even if he had no memorabilia of his home and family, the blood and dialect he shared with this woman of the same tragedy gave him some grace in his suffering. A shared sorrow was maybe half a sorrow, and even though he delivered this little toy to her and was about to depart, he found himself rooted to the ground and yearning for more and more of this respite from his loss.

  “May I accompany for some time. I wish to grieve in company.” He said. He lowered his head somewhat, as if there was shame in not wanting to be alone, but she understood him all too well. Even though she had lost everything and everyone, she was not alone. As alien as Mede was, it was still a presence she felt beside her almost all the time and in any case, silent or not, feeling or not, having someone was better than having no one.

  “What’s your name?” She asked.

  He looked up. “Garad.”

  She glanced at Mede who was staring at some birds perched on a tree nearby and retracted wanting to to introduce the two — human custom didn’t apply to creatures not human.

  “I’m Gany,” she smiled at him. “Over there is my… companion, Mede. She doesn’t talk much. We’re going north to see someone important.”

  He stood, seeming somehow lankier, and nodded her to lead the way.