If only she were here- she would know what to do. I have no doubt that she would have taken the few sticks and somehow made herself a fire to keep the shivering nights at bay. When she awoke, she would hunt something, probably with some trick or phrase she had picked up, and return with a handful of rodents or insects to be skewered and roasted. Just the thought of such a meal made my already twisted insides turn to knots. So far, I had only managed to score a measly few insects, and only thanks to a mistake I had made. I had stepped into a small funnel in the sand, and felt slight pinch through my now leathery bare soles. Lifting my foot, I saw a small bug had its front mandibles stuck into my foot. It gave me the idea to look out for more of the small, conical holes which housed the critters. Results were mixed. They are not the worst I have eaten, but they contain very little in the way of meat, and, worst of all, they are quite rare.

On the second day after I abandoned my camel to the screecher, I had seen bright black and yellow snake. At the time, it was a dumb idea to go after a snake and die a painful death to venom, as I have seen others do, back in the city. Now, however, I think the risk is worth it, even armed only with my slim beltknife which is tucked behind my buckle.

I guess it does not matter, though, since I will probably die from dehydration before I run out of food. The fact that it is close is somehow a comforting thought. I am not going to die a tragic death, surrounded with food but unable to find any water, or one surrounded by water, but unable to hunt any food. Instead I will die because I come up short on it all. My death is not a tragedy, it is just the way of the world. If nothing is to truly be created or destroyed, as Chaghil had said, how is it that I am to become something when I was born with nothing, and no one. It was as if Chaghil had put all of her energy into me. She was the only thing which had given me direction and life. Without her, I am just a crying baby, waiting for the sea to take me away. Some of the little moisture in my body runs from my eyes, burning them with their saltiness. I guess some part of me still hopes I can survive this world; that I could someday be someone. I wish it had been me, instead.

I remember the wail she had let out that night. I had told her she had to come with me, but she had refused. The next night, the night I left, rather than finding her, I found a note telling me she was going away and that I had to go for my own good. Already, there were postings for my likeness, and I had little time before the food she had saved up would take up mold. I should have stayed. Found her. Instead I had accepted that she would be right as always. I should have cared for her. Even without her sight she would find a way to cross the desert. It baffles me that she seems to know the whole of the world while only being a few years older than me.

How had she figured it all out? Who had taught her? The thought of all she had to say dying with me here makes my eyes itch. My feet seem to pick themselves up a little more. I have to hope. I had watered the bushel. I will make it through. Step by step.

A few hours later, the sun has set, and I can feel the air chill through to my bones. Without the insulation of the tent, I might even freeze to death. I should stop, and wrap myself up in the layers of the tent. I cant bring myself to do it, though. If I stop I might never wake up. At least I would be warm. I remember Chaghil’s embrace after I had received the thieves’ brands. The thought warms me a bit, or maybe I am finally succumbing to the madness of the desert. I think of her warm fingers running down my back. Her grin as she opens a purse filled with coin. The sadness in her eyes when she tells me she doesn’t love me in the same way.

The rock formation which I had been following has gotten shorter and shorter as I traveled. Soon it will probably lie under the sand and I will be forced to cross that endless sea of dunes. I will make it to the end of these rocks, and find a town. I must. Step by step.

For all of my resolve, pains in my legs still threaten to make me fall in what feels like the next few steps. I find myself praying, despite the fact that the Gods, if they are even real, have never answered my prayers before. If I stop hoping, I will die. I remember when Chaghil had found me, a boy of only 9 years stealing from market stalls. Back then, it was probably only sympathy that kept me from trouble, or at least Chaghil had told me. That part of my memories has always been hazy- she told me that it was because I was suffering from serious dehydration. If she had not handed me that flask, where would I be now? Sometimes I think I would have been better off, with nothing to live for- but I cannot ever regret having met Chaghil. Besides, deep down, I still want to survive more than anything. Why else would I still push on, even as my limbs scream out and my stomach threaten to spew out of my mouth? I could claim it is all for her, but some part of me acknowledges that I truly want to survive, far more than I want to pass on Chaghil’s knowledge or even care for her. Why else did I abandon her back in the city?

The thought should have brought me to tears, but it instead seems to come with a sense of solace. It made me feel willful, intentional. For years, I had considered death as possibly preferable to life, at least the life I had. Not now. I had simply put in too much effort to give up now- Chaghil would have told me that effort is a distant relative of results. This time, I hope they are a pair of lovers, intertwined so they cannot be told apart. There is always a place for effort, and it must be now.  Step by step.