Eye of Saffiyah |✔️

2

I frown at the sky.

Surely my aging eyes are playing tricks with me. But no, it is indeed sunset—and the air is still uncomfortably hot. 

At least there is a fresh breeze that keeps me company, one that occasionally blows by from the eastern mountains. And this time of year is most enjoyable. Well, it was. But I am determined not to let my pessimistic thoughts get the best of me.

Lost in my thinking, I nearly run over a blur of speckled feathers playing a game of tag. I stumble and come to a halt. The roadrunners squawk in alarm.

I smile apologetically. "Forgive me," I say. I pull out a strip of dried chicken and tear it into little tidbits before offering them to the fledglings. A moment of hesitation passes before the chicken disappears. I chuckle as the fledglings gobble down their fill and chirp happily. 

One fledgling pecks at my feet. Its big, innocent eyes stare at me and it flaps its flat tail. 

I splay my hands to gesture that I have no more. "I cannot offer any more," I say. "It would not be fair to your siblings, now would it?"

It tilts its head and continues to stare at me even harder.

I sigh and walk to a nearby cactus. Careful to avoid its needles, I pluck one of the many blossoms that adorn the cactus' crown. 

"Here," I say. I crouch to meet the fledgling's height. Its hops back. My palm opens to reveal the flower. I have picked a large one, with soft, pumpkin-coloured petals. Young, but bright.

The fledgling considers my offer before claiming it with its beak. In a burst of sand, it runs off with its siblings, leaving a trail of three-toed feet.

Some meters away, the parents stand guard. The female warns me with a guttural hiss.

I put a respectable distance between myself and the birds. Though I stay and watch the family for a bit, before moving on. 

In the bask of the crimson sky, the desert takes on an amber hue. Black pebbles stand out against the pale golden sand, sparkling in the sun's dying rays. Shadows darken behind cacti, sand dunes and boulders. Foxes, lizards, and squirrels scurry about as they finish forging for food. And if you listen closely, you can hear the nighttime creatures beginning to emerge. I quicken my pace.

Before long, I stop to rest beside a boulder. I put a hand to its smooth, cool surface and lower myself to sit. I take out my flask and shake out the final droplets into my mouth. That will have to do for now.

Clothing is the next focus of attention. I take my time to unravel the outer layers of my robes, sighing as the cool breeze kisses my skin. I have always found it amusing when a foreigner would visit and be astounded by how much we Swifts cover ourselves. Part of the reason is our identity; the flowing silk robes of the Swifts are recognized by the rest of the world. Part of it is cultural beliefs; our stories are told by the woven green and brown stitching that border our clothes. But most of it has to do with common sense. The heat can cook you to death if you are not careful.

I then turn to my wound. Any injuries are of great concern to me, as my body is quite sensitive to pain. Thankfully, the venom was slow-acting and I have not noticed any symptoms from it. The herbs I have gathered along the way seemed to help with the swelling, and I have used aloe vera to ease the burning sensation and swelling. I apply another round of the plant, peeling off its rough skin to reveal the fleshy insides. I dab them on my arm.

Not much can be done about the venom, though. It is unlike anything I've seen. Most venom can be cured from various herbs found in the desert, but nothing has worked so far. This may mean the worst-case scenario—I might have to make the month-long journey to the nearest trading port. Before, an adventure across the Swift Desert would not have sounded so daunting. But times have changed. I make up my mind to examine it later.