Dehydrated and delirious I reached out in front of me, my calloused finger carving patterns in cool shaded sand. Trying to recerate the path the group of merchants I had been traveling with were taking to the next city over. On either side a circle and a square drawn to represent Lithida and Byron. Two out of the four major cities that esesntially function as check points on dests stretch. A 4,000 mile valley that was trading route known for speading culture and opportunity across conintents. With the rumors that go around you’d think the fools who survive through the harsh journey get gifted their own country, that or the fountain of youth to ensure they don’t die on their way back. In reality fools is all we really are. Gold and notoriety don’t mean anything when you’re lifeless body gets burried under thousands of pounds of sand. No truesure in the world can bring back unprotected skin that’s been ripped off muscle from the violent winds. Worthless gains from a dangerous journey. A conclusion I wished to have come up with sooner. Sharp grains of sand cut through my skin small dots of blood following along the winding lines connecting the sand drawn cities. Shapes get thrown around the scene the picture becoming a puzzle being pieced back together. Every landmark, resting place, and unknown clicking into place. The mess of a puzzle stretching out much further than I am tall almost half the room decorated with a make shift map. My spine cracked as I pull myself off the floor, my knees almost buckling from the sudden weight placed upon them.

“What a mess.” I croaked out. My dry throat sticking to itself as the words try to form.

I wipe my eyes in an attempt to relieve the dryness. I take one more out of focus look at the map I slaved so hard to create. My head spun trying to make sense of it before falling to my knees. A sob escaped me as I dug my head into the ground pulling the hair on my head, the wind blowing through the empty windows feeling like blades on my skin. A perfectly drawn map by a boy who was to exhausted to comprehend directions. Too malnourished to stand let alone walk the remaining 1,000 or so miles on his own.

As I lay in the sand crying like a newborn I finally realized the severity of my situation. Even if my physical state was better I had lost all my rations in the storm that separated my from my group. My clothes were ripped to shreds and falling off from all the weight I had lost.

The dests stretch which is known for its deadly terrian that’s so terrifying that kings refuse to send their own warriors into also happens to be home to criminals and theives trying to escape spotlight. The more I thought the more I cried. Survival was impossible.

My sobs turned into soft defeated laughs. The feeling in my legs almost gone, my hands and eyes burning, the glass like sand making my elbows numb as they pressed into it. Dust filled my lungs as I took a deep breath and coughed it out. I raised my head to look at my drawing once more. A map that was never perfect. Never led to Lithida or back to Byron.

As I followed precise lines through my blurry sight each one leading to the abandoned structure I sit it. My head throbbed the sides of my mouth curved into a smile the taste of iron filling my mouth. I thought of my mother who was so worried when I told her of the job I scored as a translator. She had always been so proud of the education I was lucky enough to have received so I expected her to be excited for me. Excited that I could help her support the family so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. I remebered how her expression dropped and the moment of silence between my smiling self and the horror in her eyes. I pictured her crying with her hands covering her face. Her head and shoulders falling into herself as sorrow consumed her. The only light in the room being a small candle we keep in the center of our old wobbly oak table. The flame shaking with each sharp breath she took whispering to herself “too young, my boy is still just a baby”. I imagined watching as one of her hands grasped the clothes covering her heart the other muffling uncontrollable sobs repeating those same words that she yelled at me before my departure. The corner of the deteriorating building I had found cover in no longer felt unsafe but rather empty. Empty of my family, of my future, of hope. The whole desert felt like it was alone with me. No travelers or bandits just endless sand.

My cheeks still wet with tears when I peered over my shoulder to the empty water can I’ve had since I was young, a walking stick I carved with my own two hands with the instructions of one of the merchants I made friends with, and the broken goggles that my sister gifted me as a goodbye gift. The only three belongings I still have all stacked in the corner. Meaningful mementos now useless. I sat up straight my knees still folded underneath me slipped to either side leaning me into the hot sun spilling through the empty doorway. I adjusted until The landscape was fully visible. Bright orange sand sparkled in the light small dried plants peaking through various places. The vast and beautiful landscape was stunning. I was a beauty I had been to scared and busy to appreciate earlier. A never ending scene that once felt discouraging now strangely put me at peace. I looked up in a trance and stared at the sun for hours watching until it set one last time letting the warm rays engolf me like a warm hug. I spent those hours pleading to myself in every laungue I knew in every way I knew for nothing in particular. I pleaded for wishing for someone to hear me over and over until the bright comforting warmth turned to a dark chilling cold.