Snippet #2679294

“Come in! come in! And let me tell you a story of hope... for I see across your faces bitter pasts. Fear not, my friends, this is not all life has to offer. There is a treasure in these sands. Not of gold or riches but of green grass, fresh water, and wet skies. The Qafar is our home, but it is also our greatest foe. I don't think there is one among you who hasn't seen a friend taken by his wrath... you though you cannot kill the desert, you can change him.”

The walls of the tent creaked and swayed as the sand storm outside picked up speed. A small, robotic creature on wheels moved through the feet of the locals, reaching the entranceway and pulling the fabric closed with a magnetic grip. “How do I know this, I hear you fine people ask?"

The dozen or so villagers inside the tent stared back at the Nomad blankly. A farmer crossed his arms. "We didn't but go on."

The story-teller grinned and pointed up. "I know this because the heavens told me. We nomads follow the stars, they give us knowledge and wisdom." The man speaking could not look less like his audience – his skin was smooth, his black locks soft, and his robes fell off his body in such a way as if they were meant to.

“No doubt you know your walls, your neighbours, your village better than I ever could…. But beyond that how much do you know? The world becomes a map of outsiders and mysteries, for the clans are divided, fractured and apart. But when you look down from the stars the desert is calm, and all of us in it are in one nomad clan.”

From a corner of the tent a woman, Qavi Rova, watched - young, wide-eyed, and with a burnt nose poking out from her heavy hood. And her lips mimicked the story-teller's words line for line.

***

"Let's go! Pack it up!" The story-teller yelled, walking around his caravan as the handful of other nomads hustled to secure their belongs onto the hover-wagon.

"Ow, ok, you-" Rova cursed to herself, attempted to attach the reigns of the wagon to a camel as the sand flew into her face. "Alright," She breathed, tightening a knot before the winds suddenly smashed into her with full force, sending her to the ground.

"Rova, get up," The story-teller hissed, standing over her.

"Mir Fydra, what are we doing?" Rova questioned, looking up to the head of the Naima clan. Fydra raised an eyebrow. "We're trying to beat the sand-storm," He responded, grabbing her roughly and pulling her up. "Come on, girl."

"I mean what are we doing, the village walls are right there!" Rova exclaimed, pointing behind them at the settlement they'd just left. "We shouldn't be out here, Fydra! We should find another city like Yusil. We've been dying in the Sea of Sand and these clans have nothing to give!"

"The Change isn't in the city," Fydra replied. "it's out here."

Rova squinted at the man. "You don't believe that."

Fydra stared at the girl but didn't respond. Instead he raised his hand, pointing out into the dunes. Rova looked where his finger led and spotted a group of three villagers walked out over the shifting sands, toward the mass of brown sand-storm in the distance. She recognized the villagers - all three were in the tent earlier. It seemed Fydra's words had gotten to them. They were going to search for the Change. "It doesn't matter what I believe, Rova," He said. "As long as they do."

***

"It doesn't matter what you believe..." Mirova repeated to herself. "As long as they do."

The leader of the Naima Nomad clan gave a final exhale before pushing the doors of her hotel open. Blinding sunlight poured in, bright coloured booths, stalls, and street performances lining the massive main-road before her. The sounds of laughter, cheering, and music could be heard as a crowd of tourists, animals, robots and villagers from all over navigated the sandy town.

The tenth of June in the year three-nine-three, the first day of the Dol Duna Summer Bizarre. The hooded Mirova gave a tired smile at the great market before her and walked out into the crowds, eager to find her tent and setup. There were travellers from all over the Qafar desert here today, and travellers meant money. Today of all days it was guaranteed everyone would be out and enjoying the festivities…