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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Young Adult Readers And Writers

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Capítulo Uno

Submitted: November 13, 2017

Reads: 419

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Submitted: November 13, 2017



I feel like I'm gonna fall over. I'm gonna die. Out here, in the middle of nowhere. My death won't even be dramatic like in those books. The maggots will feast on my flesh and bones... how will I ever present myself before Ari looking like that...

Maybe I am being very slightly dramatic. But for a good cause.

I feel thirsty.

My body gives me a strangled and desperate cry. "Dilute me with some water, Kongo! Your blood's turnin' to powder!"

Never mind the fact that the sun is beating hot and hard on my back, legs, arms. All over. I want to shout at it. The big, smug circle that hung in the sky on an invisible thread, laughing down at us stupid humans and our pain. That sadistic ball of heat.

Born and raised in the desert you'd think I'd be used to it, brush it off like a stray hair. The truth is there's no "getting used to" it. Only stumbling forward with your pores squeezing out every last drop of liquid they can manage. But I've heard that people in the Frozen Lands don't like their weather either, so I can't say I'm alone in these thoughts. However, if the sky opened up and decided it was prime time to shower fist-sized chunks of ice I wouldn't object. And I would probably get a sound sleep as well, maybe a concussion on the side.

Yet the wishes of my soul and my wanting for cold is futile. There are at least five more hours left until the sun sets which makes it the sweltering noon, the absolute worst part of the day. I squint behind my sand goggles and look into the horizon. A small black dot is attached to the farthest edge I can see. I take another look at my map now that the town was in sight.

"Five more miles...," I groan. Five more miles may not seem much to the night traveler, or even to the early morning traveler. But two hours more in the sun is not an easy task, especially when you're nearly dead out of water. The temptation to just rip my map in half is great.

I take my metal bottle out of the side pocket of my backpack. This causes me some wrestling, as my pack is hidden safely under my long robe. Trouble as it may be, necessary precautions must be taken to keep safe from the greedy hands of desert thieves.

I tip the bottle back to take a sip. And back, and back, and back. Now the bottle is vertical. Scratch nearly out. I am dead out. Bleh.

I set my eyes again on the long sandy stretch in from of me. These walks were the worst, when there were only sharp rocks and prickly shrubs sticking out of the sand to keep you company. No big trees, no hordes of animals, not even a fellow traveler. To the latter nothing is to blame, as no one with a brain would travel during this time of day. I should've left last night. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Dragging my sandals through the sand, I suffer for an hour longer as the town grows bigger and bigger. Houses and shops and stands reached their hands over the horizon, welcoming and comforting. My mother's home village of Massango, seated at the foot of the smallest of the Burnt Land's mountains. A fatigued smile crosses my face.

"I'm back."

© Copyright 2018 B.S. Son. All rights reserved.


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