Sandhailer

II. vii

The sandsailer cut a lonely path through the shallow sands.

Long, gentle dunes made for easy sailing, and had done for the better part of the day. Although the sands appeared low, he knew the fine grains reached deep. To go by foot, off of the known paths, was like wading through unwilling water.

But that wasn't his primary worry. Swordeater had been uncharacteristically quiet for the entirety of the day. Even he wasn't able to bear an uncomfortable silence for that long.

"You okay?" He tossed the words in Swordeater's direction without ever glancing away from the horizon.

"Yes." The man nodded, as he laid his hands over his knees and remained still. With the gentleness of the sands he didn't have to hold on or brace much.

"If you are hungry, you can eat." He continued, not believing that he was okay, but also not able to think of what would fix that. Eating something usually worked for him, so he figured it would work for Swordeater.

"I am not particularly hungry, but I appreciate it." The man threw a smile up that was even shallower than the dunes.

At least he had tried, so he didn't bother continuing when Swordeater clearly didn't want to talk. After two sentences he had enough too.

Once evening fell, Sandhailer rested the sailer on a slight elevation above the surrounding sandscape. The edge of the sky still had the intense peach hue of sunset, that softly scaled through yellow, faint green and then blue that fell into the black seas of night. A breeze stirred, the warmth of the sands swirling through the approaching cold.

For a few long moments Sandhailer crouched on one of the skids of his new sandcraft. He still had to familiarise himself with its quirks and oddities when steering, but it was similar enough to carry him through the desert without issues.

His moment of mulling things over did not last long though. He nimbly moved across the wood to the back, loosening some of the food tied there. The rations consisted mostly of dried fruits, nuts, and salted meat. He had some supplies to cook with, but wouldn't tonight since they had eaten extensively before they left.

Grabbing a small pouch of dried apples, prunes and dates, and then adding a palm's worth of meat, he walked over to Swordeater.

"Eat some." He said, as he handed over the meal. Swordeater glanced up at him and nodded, but there hung some melancholy in his eyes.

"You haven't eaten yet today, and you need to recover." Sandhailer clarified, to which Swordeater smiled as if somewhat amused – but then he nodded and took a small bite of the fruits.

Content that he got him to eat, Sandhailer moved to the other side of the sailer, as he had always done.

When he had had his meal, and drank his fill of water, Sandhailer put his veil up again and moved across the craft to Swordeater. The man usually finished before him, but this time he had eaten only half the meal, which wasn't large in and of itself.

"You didn't eat." He stated, as if it was a grave sin.

"I am not very hungry tonight." Swordeater shook his head, his voice soft and apologetic.

Worried by that, Sandhailer hopped down into the soft sands and moved before Swordeater. Using his khinjar he gestured for him to lift his shirt, to check his wound. The man did so, lifting his brown cloak and layers of linen cloth.

Sandhailer cut loose the bandages, and saw the now closing wound. The medicine woman had done her very best, and the salves and bandages had worked. It was not fully shut, but improving nonetheless.