Steely eyes, both blue and gray, watched the ever-shifting desert sands. The curves of the dunes which rose and fell in varying sizes, the oases, the occasional sprout of vegetation - though mostly gnarled, garish vines that twisted angrily across the vast expanse of drought and sand.
He was memorizing the land, much like his father had memorized it. Every dip, every hole was committed to memory to fulfill his self-promised goal of learning every inch the desert by heart.
For there was no one he admired quite as much as his two parents, who shone like undying, immortal symbols of hope and perserverance in his eyes. They were the very embodiment of all that was superior, all that was commendable, and all that represented the Firekin. Indeed, Atesh thought so highly of his parents that he was determined to emulate their success.
There was no war for him to fight and win, but he would become a great warrior all the same. To be prepared for anything was almost like being a part of something special, and that he was determined to be, if only to let his parents know just how much he appreciated them.
