Ballad of the Desert

Chapter 1 (Part 1)

A small black beetle scuttled across the sand, fashioned into small waves from the relentless howling winds. Small lizards scampered to find shade under the rare and sparse desert greens. The heat was blistering.

To the sounds of her fingers clicking, an immense, black wolf padded noiselessly towards the girl and settled by her feet.

Intricate, brass, tribal ornaments hung from her packed wide belt where small curved daggers were strapped on carelessly under a fluffy, fur lined collar. Many cloth braids hung in rivets throughout her attire, which blended in with the surrounding orange sands.

Clothed in earthen tones of russet orange, dirt brown and faded yellows, the girl gazed off towards the horizon of the never ending sea of sand. Long thick lashes framed large inquisitive eyes, which were set in a surprisingly pale face marred with streaks of dirt, whilst her numerous messy and unruly braids were intertwined with her twisted cloth strand headpiece.

The days flew by like the billowing sands blown by the night winds. In a blink of an eye, I've travelled thousands of miles, but it seems to me to be just a small break from the pain and torment. The desert grasses have been reborn three times already. In a matter of little more than three years, a thousand days and nights, I've returned to the lifestyle of the wolf pack once again. I followed them from the north of the desert to the south. And from the south to the north again. The previous six years that I have spent with Father...it was almost as if they have been buried under the desert sands. A pity that it's only an...almost.

Breaking free of her reminiscence, she trekked up on a cliff, the large lupine close at her heels and cupping her hands to her face, she howled towards the bright sky. The sound floated up and swirled with the winds to ring across the desert plain.

Suddenly, she spotted a trail of camels, like a brown beads flowing on a string, all carrying heavy packs, and ten or so men on horseback. Their pace slowed and looking around, they began to prepare their camp for the night. Hopping down to level grown, she began to creep steadily towards them. Hidden by a curving sand dune, she was able to spy on them openly without worry.

Her eyes creased with silent amusement and mischievousness as she inspected the ratty edges of her sleeve. "I don't know how long this dress will last," she tutted as she leant in close to whisper to her brother. "Brother Wolf, how about I go steal some clothing and along the way, grab some of their salt?" With a small giggle, she prowled silently closer towards them.

A man clothed in a dark purple attire complete with a complementing shawl commanded a man in black, "The Ninth Master is here, prepare the chair quickly."

She looked on curiously and saw that the servant, with the help of another, had quickly wheeled an elaborate wooden wheelchair towards the purple clothed man. Twitching her head inquisitively, she spied a separate camel being led by another man dressed in black. She shuffled as close as she dared to see clearer. 

The young man sitting astride the large rocking camel was dressed in an ethereal white attire, his robes and wispy shawl fluttering softly to the dry winds. Coming to a stop next to a column of luggage where several bamboo poles leant against the netted sides, the young man was greeted by all the men.

"Ninth Master." The man in purple gestured politely towards the wheelchair. 

Although she couldn't see the young man in white's expression, she noticed his eyes creased upwards in a soft smile towards the hesitant men. Turning his head, the man in white looked towards the bamboo poles to his left, grabbed one and as he pushed it firmed into the running sand, he lifted himself off his camel and floated down gently to settle majestically on his wooden wheelchair.