Recovering Part 1

JP with Omni and Lorem

Staggering around a bit in her preliminary survey of what used to be their camp, Voah made her way back to Gonyaul who was shaking the sand from his clothes and hair.

"It's awful..." She coughed and asked in a hoarse voice, "Are you alright?"

Gonyaul was so relieved to be able to breathe fresh air again, without the stench of dust and sand or the threat of an invasion at every exposed orifice. He relished it with a wanton passion of a survivor of peril finally finding a safe haven. Of course, they were no where near safe. In fact, things had taken a turn for the worse. Gonyaul though wasn’t quiet focused on these setbacks just yet. In that instance, he was grateful that Voah and he were alive and well as could be expected.

He took assessment of his person. He felt like someone lined the inside of his attire with jagged bark, his skin was raw with abrasions from the grains of sand relentlessly pelting them. Even with the layering, the sand seemed to be able to find its way behind their defenses.

He was clueless as to the mistrusting and accusatory looks from the rest of the caravan. He was more focused on orienting himself and keeping tabs on Voah as she surveyed their situation.

He didn’t have to move from his spot in order to see the devastation caused by the storm. In fact, he couldn’t immediately move at all, and had to dig himself out more; having taking the brunt of the direction of the storm’s path in order to shield Voah. They were going to need to find their belonging in all this mess.

Gonyaul coughed and a cloud of dust came out of his mouth, visible like the breath on a cold day. His throat was raw and his mouth very dry. He literally thought he ate some sand. As he moved sand cascaded from all over him down to join their siblings below his feet.

Gonyaul forced out his reply, “I am good.”he smirked painfully, his lips stung to move. “I think this most uncomfortable ever been. And I been stung all over by bees.”

“Are you alright?” He carefully was trying to brush himself off, but it truly was a pointless attempt.

Gonyaul gave up quickly trying to brush the sand off for two reasons. One, it hurt to move and apply friction across his body. Two, it wasn’t working. He just accepted his sand covered state.

He did locate a water skin on his person though. He had forgotten he had one with him when the sandstorm sprung upon them unexpectedly. As he began lifting it up, going to offer Voah a drink, his growing pleased expression was cut short. While the water skin went up, a noticeable trail of wet and some dry sand formed a moving line from the bag to the ground. A hole must have been beaten into it and it’s life giving contents were lost beyond saving.

Gonyaul lowered the water skin. Losing water in a desert was an awful cost he wasn’t sure they had the ability to pay. He hoped one of their other water skins, if they could find them, was still intact; worst case scenario perhaps one of the recently deceased had water they could collect. It wasn’t ideal; however, it would be necessary.

She tried to help dust him off but her arms ached from atrophy of not doing anything but clinging on to another person for what felt like days. Besides, by this point, every movement of her body felt like brushing against rough stone. Thankfully she had been able to get a few spots of sleep.

“Very… very thirsty. Poor darling. Must… find our things, nnn?” she managed to croak out.

The tent, which they had not yet packed before the sandstorm hit, was no longer anywhere in sight. It wasn’t hard to follow the string of debris that was littered across the desert in the direction in which the wind had carried the sand. They followed it, unburying stray objects from sheets and layers of sand and assisting a few of the Ozainae along the way. The people received their help albeit begrudgingly.

The two of them walked on, or staggered rather, for a quarter of a bell until they spied a glint up ahead. The Holy Sword of Vastad ominously jutted out unsheathed, tip up and slightly tilted from the crest of a dune, reflecting blinding light from its polished silver blade.

Beyond the dune, they spied a haven, guarded from the winds, where many salvageable items had been deposited.