M doubted she would ever get the sand out of some places. Despite the magical silver fire, the sandstorm and the trek through the desert had managed to embed tiny course grains everywhere. Kress was safe in its sheath though, and somehow the elf had managed to keep his canteens free of any sand.
The water tasted sweet and fresh as M drunk deeply from one of the small metallic flasks. It looked tiny, barely more than a few mouthfuls. But in her hands it felt heavy, as if holding several liters of the refreshing liquid. And despite her long draft from it, it didn't seem any lighter. M shrugged and gave the small but heavy flask back to the elf. So many of these things seemed as if they shouldn't make sense, but they somehow did anyways. There was a sense of suspended disbelief, hovering in M's mind like the wisps of gray fog that hovered over the serene dunes.
The early morning light threw a strange cast on the rounded sandy hills, the edges were sharp and defined, the light was diffuse and bright, making M squint as she surveyed the horizon. A frown pursed her lips, as a thought struck her. She remembered seeing the mountains yesterday, passing through them the day before. She remembered pushing her way into the jungle, but before that she was having problems. It wasn't that there was nothing to remember, M just could not recall it.
It was like reaching for slippery bubbles, and feeling them slide out of her grasp just as she touched them. This did not please M. The elf peered at her, his silvery glowing eyes difficult to read. But he looked concerned, or curious. His eyes remained fixed on her even as the violet-winged Fae of his landed lightly on his head.
"What? Why are you staring at me?"
Not that he could understand her, but the prolonged gaze made her uncomfortable. To her surprise though, he replied. He spoke softly, and the words were foreign to her, but there was a resonance to his tones that made her pause and listen. The voice sounded familiar, like she had heard it in a dream but didn't quite remember the dream.
The Fae on his head flapped it's violet wings and took off, tracing lazy circles in the early morning light. M shook her head and sighed. It was still bothersome, the not being able to remember. But inside, M felt a growing urgency to get where she was going. So instead of venting her frustrations, she pointed, where she felt they ought to be going.
The elf nodded, and began trotting off into the diffuse light and scraps of mist.
M followed.
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