In the grand scheme of things, the fall of a single human means so very little. The winds moved sands and the sands covered her tracks, until the signs of her passing were but a moment's memory in time lost. The camp from which she'd come fell into disarray at her leaving and horsemen went in search of her. Loved ones wept and the women put ash mixed with fat upon their faces, in their hair in preparation. That she had chosen to leave was her way and even as they searched, they did not expect to find anything. 

And so the river of moments and hours passed on until the camp had been gone, the jackal gone as well. Heat and cold twisted around one another and then around the great rock, half burying the woman's now deserted body and doing what the jackal did not. 

His name was Zahi Akeem Gabir Hakim Amjad and he was a prince of his people. He carried the weight of his lands and as he crossed the sands on the precious Anat, her golden body streaming under the sky, he felt that given all that had happened, to carry the burden of his legacy and to let it die and be lost would not be a tragedy his father may have thought it to be. Not when such burdens were tainted by the hands of evil. 

He had bled along her side and his blood crackled when it dried so that much of it had come off of her hide. This was a good thing, for she was too bright a star to be so covered in her master's blood. The wound had eventually been staunched yet to move overly much and he would no doubt have opened the cut in his belly once more. Still, they went on, he blindly and she with the wisdom of only the most beloved, until the sun was so high as to make the heavens white and pure, and then she stopped for she had brought him to some place which was cool and in the shade. He crawled off of her side and found himself in the mouth of a cavern. As he leaned against her shoulder, he drew out the water skin at her withers and letting go his side, he clasped his hands and offered her water in the inefficient bowl he had created for her. She drank as delicately as she did all, her velvet lips on his palms, and then she shook herself, her dark mane a corona of fine silks about her crest. With a groan of comfort, she laid upon the sands and trusting to him, the one she had followed even directly after her birth, she laid her head upon the cool and fell to a restful sleep. 

He, however, would not sleep. Not when life was so close and death even closer. With a grunt, the man clasped his hand to his side and stepped further into the break in the stone. It grew cooler as he walked but equally difficult and he, aware he had a charge, would not allow himself full entrance. He stumbled and slowly sank to his knees, the warmth of blood seeping into his fingers once more. With a gasp, he settled into the sand and began to work at tearing away fabric and making a binding for his wound. He had not had time when he had been forced to flee because of his cousin's treachery, but he could take time with the quiet of the desert to protect his pain. 

As the wound was bound tightly, Zahi took his time and leaned against the wall to rest without forgetting his charge. His dearest would sleep only a short time and then she would look over him, perhaps to his death or perhaps to his waking. Then they would be gone once more. So he remained for a time, looking out at the desert beyond and his golden mare outlined by the fierce sun. 

It could be only that he had lost blood and that he was hurt that he did not notice what was under him. He shifted, however, and then something could be felt underneath, poking at his seat. He frowned and with care, moved so as to remove the rock, only to find it was a rib bone. One of a set and as he brushed sand to find what it was that lay there, he discovered the paper thin remnants of cloth, long since discolored, and the second and third of the bones, one atop the other. It was small, a woman or a child, then, and no way to tell how long it had been as the desert kept such secrets. He swept it clean but paused for there, beneath the third, a gleam of metal flashed. 

His head to the side, much like the jackal had in times long past, he reached out and plucked what was soon discovered to be a key out of the earth. It had been brushed by time as well and gleamed as it were newly polished. He let it play in his fingers, forgetting for a moment his pain. A key then? Here of all places? What possibilities lay within a key? 

He chuckled. What possibilities, indeed? “O, that you could give me answers,” he said to it in a hushed whisper, the key which looked to hold promise in its burnished sides. It was a pretty thing and very unlikely a find, for it had not sifted deeper into the sands to be lost. “What say you, my friend? What was your key to?” He glanced down at the bones in inquiry but then, the bones said nothing in return. 

Sleep had taken him without his notice when Anat's warm breath played on his cheek. He startled awake and his hand gripped hard about the key as if loathe to lose it. Looking up, he met her dark eyes and laughed in pain. Then because she was at his side, he reached for the woven collar on her neck and she waited for him to stand. He panted, attempted to catch his breath when each intake pulled and hurt. Unsure if it was his imagination, he chose to not touch his belly and find if he bled once more. Instead, he leaned his head on her neck, his arm over her shoulder, and let the sweet scent of her carry him to safer times when, as a younger man, he had slept together with her and dreamt of glories never come to be. 

Her saddle felt too far away and he did not attempt it just then. Instead he fingered the key and looked beyond her side to where the sun had begun to tinge the world in darker golds. Night would come on soon and they would be better suited to a warm fire and a secure tent, neither of which he could offer her. Instead, he would be forced to ask her to carry him further and she, dutiful daughter of the wind, would do without complaint. He sighed heavily at the care which he could not give his people and thus leveled completely upon her. 

Finally standing upright, he set the key into his sash and shared water with her once more. She was not greedy nor did she begrudge him the little he took to keep himself standing. As he replaced the water skin, instead, she nuzzled him and gave him a soft whicker of camaraderie. 

“Let us go,” he nodded to her and went to try to mount her. But she sidled and tossed her head. 

“My lovely?” he reached for her mane. His delight allowed him the touch but the moment he attempt to mount, she again, sidled and tossed her head, this time, pawing the ground. Each time he chose to make motions toward mounting her, she would move again until he stood and set his hand on his chin, stroked his beard in thought. The pain was great and he could not have attempted many more times, but there was some purpose to her actions, for she was the wise one while he the fool. 

When assured she had his attention, Anat tossed her head once more. He watched her, but she had to do so once more before he let his gaze leave her and turn to look at the wall. Faded paintings stood out on the stone, barely visible with the slanted light of the setting sun. He stepped forward and let his hand run along the lines. Here, a flying horse, there a man prostate. The images meant nothing to him but Anat had no doubt meant for him to inspect them and so he did, as obedient to her wishes as she was so often to his. 

When his thumb caught on a divot, he leaned forward to look more closely. The wall had been smoothed by the deserts and any crack seemed of monumental importance. Even more so, he realized, when it looked and felt almost like a key hole. But it couldn't be! 

Yet, moved to act, he did reach for the key which he had found held in that lost one's rib bones and after blowing it free of sand, found it was, indeed a key hole and in fact, fit the very key which he slotted into it. With a breath of surprise, Zahi turned the key which caught, and then slid smoothly about. As if it had only waited for someone to come along and make use of it.