“Mashuu, right?”

“...”

“Now that is the face of Ashojan Mashuu,” Saya gave him the cloth back, and he put it on frantically. She turned around and remembered something from long ago. She slapped herself and whirled back around.

“If we were in the God’s Basin, and near the capital of Tasdaha,” Saya waved her index finger, “We must be in the Dine al-Othoji Dunes. If we head towards the city there will surely be an oasis en route to it.”

Saya then grabbed his arm with a serious face, “You better come or I’ll come to drag you back.”

Ashojan looked away at the blowing sands.

“Tch. Do whatever. We’re gonna die here anyway.”

They traversed the burning dunes of the Dine al-Othoji, the infamous desert that halted the Azu army’s advance in the invasion of the Dineh peoples. Azu battalions were constantly ambushed by the ‘dunes that whisper’, or so it was described in the textbook.

Their aim was to walk towards Dineh Kazaàd ‘Autónoma, situated next to God’s Basin, a large ravine and canyon where sandrivers empty their deposits. To the Azu, it was a great source of metals and coal, where cliff-mining was practiced.

Saya was uncertain about whether they were going to reach the city, but it was worth a try. The distance they needed to cover seemed longer from Al-Shinkyou to Rümqî and Rümqî to Wakoku. There should be routes that miners would take to the city.

“Hey, where were you born?” Saya asked, as Ashojan followed behind her. After she saw his face, he seemed to be more content and tranquil. She could feel the tension slightly dissipating.

“Ta Kuar, a Tasdaha village on the border of As-Z̆onghu̐a,” He mumbled.

“Oh you lived in Tasdaha? No wonder why you speak Azu so well! Are you a Dineh?”

“N- no, I’m half Z̆ongren, my mother’s name is Yu Huai.”

She felt the awkwardness again. Saya expected it, for moments before they were trying to attack each other.

“Where do you live now? I mean, before Al-Wa,” She almost fumbled on her words, “Believe or not, I’m an Azu-Buhang-Khoitan, from Al-Shinkyou Province.”

“Rümqî. I came there for work.”

“Work?”

“As a clockmaker’s apprentice,” Ashojan responded, after hesitating on each word.

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“Clockmaker? You mean those devices that tell the time? So you know how to make things that tell time, interesting,” She patted his shoulder roughly twice. He looked up slowly.

“You don’t think it's lame?”

“No way, there was this ‘boy’ who gave us a clock for free! Clocks usually are expensive, but he still gave it to us when we didn’t have any way to tell the exact time,” Saya grinned as he looked away. She remembered how he fought when he had the knife in his hand. His form was precise and efficient, just like clockwork. Ashojan handled the knife by drawing the angles in hour needles, she came to a conclusion. Not only that, but his sword swings were perfect forty-five degree angles in shooting stars.

The ground rumbled. The grains shook like dust. Alarmed, they quickly ran atop of a dune and scanned the area. Something was coming.

“Ashojan do you know what this is?” Saya took out the knife, as her hands reverberated to the quaking.

“A hashara is here,” He responded, glancing around.

A few meters in front of them, a bizarre bug creature formed from the sands. With a skeletal stature, it had a giant horn on its front. It growled at them and immediately swung its head at them. Saya had never seen such a thing. Was it created from the sand itself? It was bigger than them.

Swiftly they ducked, as Saya pushed themselves to the side.

“Here,” She held his knife by the tip towards Ashojan. “Tell me how to defeat it so we can fight it.”

Hesitating, he took the knife, “It can only focus on one of its prey at a time. But its shell-”

“Then I’ll go distract it, while you slash it,” Saya wrapped things up, clapping her hands. It felt less dangerous than the attack back in the Azu capital.

She ran to the side of it as it turned its head facing her. Saharic particles traced her path, as she remembered the feeling of the current.

Tick. Tock.

The shamisen roared and matched the rhythm of the arcadian beat. The particles transformed into sand, the overture of the clock riding afloat.

Tick. Tock.

“Alam Botok: Sand River.”

Energy ignited from behind her. Saya dashed in a circle around the hashara. The sand flowed behind. She accelerated to the extent where she could trip anytime. Each step sank her feet into the sand. A storm began to pick up. Saya was getting dizzy. Her lungs screamed to the erhu’s ruqin soliloquy. Once the monster fazed itself, she yelled.

Bong.

“Now!”

Ashojan leaped with the knife, holding the tiny blade. It twinkled in a second as two slashes went through the hashara, slicing it in the head. The creature toppled over. Saya collapsed onto the ground, coughing up more blood. She was manifesting more particles than before. Was her sahar level slowly increasing? It felt as if her lungs tried to expand in size. Blurry vision. Saya turned to the sky, the sun’s ray heating her face. Ashojan walked up to her.

“I’m sorry…”

“What was that?” Saya stood up holding her chest, breathing heavily. She parted her hair to see that a portion of it had turned silver.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, alright,” She responded softly, “Alam Jalaya.”

Water spewed from her hand, spraying herself with it. Then she faced it towards Ashojan.

“H- hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Hehe,” Saya wiped her mouth again, smirking. Toqemur’s infamous line.

After they drank, they continued their course to the city. Even if they had two days left, it was the only thing keeping them together.