[center] SAKABANATU [/center]

The hot desert sun burned savagely over the running boy. Clouds of sand shot out from under his sandaled feet with each kick, and his ragged breath sucked in the hot wind. Scarlet blood caked his face, hands and down his torn linen tunic, cut off at the knees. Each pounding step caused his heart to shake and lungs rebuke the hot sandy air. His legs burned and his ribs hurt, each thud of his sandals causing a piercing pain. 

	Above him the sky was a cool blue, cloudless and taunting. Looking up from the endless dunes the boy felt his mind longing for the sky to fall on him, and wash him away in it’s infinite blue. He let his crusty eyes close for a moment, sinking into thought as his legs pumped his ragged body on its doomed journey. He tried to imagine water, rest, but all he could gather was the feeling of his parched throat and cracked lips.

	His ear jerked at the sound of a horse galloping. They had caught up to him, his heart hurt as it bounced against his chest. He didn’t want to look, he couldn’t. Looking up to the sky he pleaded, his lips whispering prayers. The horse whinnied and he was cut short in his tracks as the slim desert beast turned into his path.

	Skidding he nearly crashed into the beast. Without the momentum of his run, his knees buckled and he collapsed to them. The sand sear his bare skin, but his body ached too greatly for him to noticed as his chin dipped downwards, his neck failing to look up. 

	“Brother,” a voice called to him, sandals falling from the horse and planting next to him. The boy turned to the legs sprouting from the sandals and let his forehead rest on the shin. The man who called out to him knelt down and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, shaking him gently, “brother!”

	The boy felt his brothers arms snaked under his armpits. He felt his body leave the sand as he was picked up and placed on the horse. He laid sprawled out on the tiny horse. His brother worked quickly to secure him. Pressing his forehead to the boys he spoke, but his words were muddled as the boy’s mind began to close. His brother looked frustrated, mad even. There were yells, and galloping hooves in the distance, then one loud crack as his brother slapped the horse’s rump. The desert wind returned as the horse escaped the scene, boy atop. 

	The boys eyes drifted in and out of conscience, and it was at this point that he wished he had let his exhaustion conquer him, but he didn’t. Struggling to sit up in the saddle, he turned to look at his brother. The wind screamed in his ear as he turned, and in the distance he saw his brother, laid in a heap in the sand, three riders standing over his corpse. Blackness.

	A sudden splash woke the boy up, his body has slipped from the horse and into a shallow canal that cut through the unforgiving desert. He rolled out, letting his body soak as he laid back on the dreaded sand, the lukewarm water offering some coolness to the heat. He rolled on his side, his eyes drifted over his brothers horse. It was a strong beast yet small, a pouch fat with bread was tied to its rump. 
	The boys eyes focused underneath the belly of the horse, in the distance, across the canal, a being stared back at him. The being was slender and tall, the sun seemed to avoid it, caressing its body instead of beating down on it. It was unnatural how relaxed it looked, how it’s shadow grew from its figure, almost ghostly, yet very corporeal. Intricate blue lines segmented and decorated its body in between strange tufts of long and colorful feathers. The boy squinted to see the creature better, but as his eyes narrowed the sand erupted around the feather cuffed entity and it was swallowed by the desert. 

	Rollin on his other side the boy laid there, eyes wide and thoughts traumatized by everything that had happened. He was so much in shock he didn’t register the roguish looking character approach him, knife drawn. 

	“Is this your horse,” the rogue said, but the boy didn’t answer. A few more questions rang, each more aggressive than the last, but the boy could only watch as the man drew closer, knife threatening him. As the man grew into a few feet away, the sand erupted once more and the tall figure across the canal shot out of the desert itself. 

	The rogue thrusted his knife but the creature side stepped, gliding on the desert breeze. It’s feathered cuffed arm shot out and snatched the man’s hand, a sudden spin and the other feathered arm bent at the elbow and smashed into the rogue’s arm, breaking it backwards. The rogue screamed and the creature suddenly spun, its legs sweeping down, and ankle shooting out, swiping the rogues own legs from underneath him. As his body fell horizontally, the feathered leg shot straight up and quickly fell back down to the desert, its heel planting into the temple of the rogue. Soft, pain filled breaths was the only response the laid out rogue returned, consciousness long lost. 

	The desert creature approached the boy, and the boy reeled in fright. His eyes scanned the face of the entity, but what he saw was indescribable, yet unforgettable. This was a ghost of Sondoper. It’s hand shot out towards the boy before softly laying a palm on his head. A sudden burn seared across the boy’s skull and very mind. He tried to struggle but the strength of the hand holding him was unbelievably steady. He couldn’t move as his mind was set on fire, his very thoughts an erupting volcano. Then suddenly, cool drips of knowledge fell onto the fire in his mind, and with each drop, a new thing learned. The drops formed rivulets and before he knew it there was a chilling cascade of information flooding his mind. His breath retreated and as the hand left his head, a scar the shape of the palm burned into his scalp, he felt the blackness conquer him once again. His eyes slid closed and he collapsed back to the sand. His mind slipped into the void of dreams, eventually finding the darkness of subconscious. 
	
	The boy, now a man, convulsed violently in his sleep, a dark haired woman shaking him roughly. His eyes opened wide, two pools of silver under dark eyebrows and an eerie scar the shape of a hand. 

	“Mozkurtuta! Mozkurtuta!” The woman leaning above him whispered harshly. Mozkurtuta’s arms flailed, “wha wha where am I!” His eyes narrowed on the woman, confused, “Emagaldu?”

	Emagaldu pursed her lips, “you stumbled into my yurt in a drunken stupor again.” She answered, seemingly used to the scenario. Mozkurtuta sat up, a thin linen blanket falling off of his bare chest. Looking around the yurt, everything was toppled over or misplaced. It looked as if there was a massive fist fight in the tiny leather yurt, even the bed of furs he laid in was strewn about carelessly.

	“Looks like we did more than stumbling,” He looked back at her, but was met with a unamused frown. Before she could answer the flap to the yurt was thrown aside and a burly man dressed in red scarves and a white skirted tunic came roaring in, “EMAGALDU!”

	“H-husband,” the woman quickly stepped away from the side of the bed, revealing the naked Mozkurtuta. 

	Emagaldu’s husband looked his wife up and down. She looked fine, her curly hair tightly braided and her long brown dress and cloak unwrinkled, but looking to Mazkurtuta’s all he saw was a naked slob with a messy beard, bald and scarred head accompanied with the stench of alcohol. The scene was up to interpretation, and the bull headed husband was quick to see an opportunity a lot of men in the tribe had been looking for, his wife be damned. 

	Pointed a hairy knuckled finger he shouted, “Adulterer!”

	Emagaldu screeched, “WHAT?” 

	Mazkurtuta burped. 

	“Muda, Husband, what is this nonsense?” 

	“Quiet, adulterer, speak only before the council of our elders, I shall see to it that justice is served,” Muda spat into the yurt, ignoring that it was he who owned it. Turning he let loose a shark’s smile as he left the yurt.

	“MAZ!” Emagaldu whacked the drunk upside the head, “go settle this and tell him what really happened.”

	Mazkurtuta looked up at her, “I mean I would but I can’t remember the last two days as it is, no thanks to you,” He rubbed his head, ”Besides it is in the elder’s hands, they will see the truth.”

	“Drunken idiot.”

-------------------------------------------------------to be continued--------------------------------------------------------------------

(Got lazy, made it a two parter, sue me)