They’ve been following me.

They maintain a distance of several dunes, never crossing the line, and their steady pace comes off as a sort of graceful flight. Their eyes never waver, steadily focused on me.

I retreated several paces after the massacre and followed the line eastward. My detour lasted for hours, and still they followed me. At one point I retreated far enough into the blue desert that the line and their figures completely disappeared from sight, but when I meandered closer, further east again, their unblinking eyes stared out from the bronze desert.

It was creepy…to say the least.

I drop onto the dune I’ve been standing on, eyeing my stalkers. They don’t sit, at least not that I’ve seen, and even when I pause to rest they don’t lessen the gap between us.

A sigh slips through my lips and curls into a growl.

I feel trapped. I’ve traveled for days trying to escape this cursed blue sand. I escaped a wolf, and left the sanctuary of the tower, stuffing that vile blue dust down my throat all the while, and now I can’t even leave it!

“Ugh…”

I rub the bridge of my nose, considering my options.

I could retreat again, further away from the line this time, maybe even stay away for a day or two and shake the creepy humanoids.

I could wait it out, sit here on this dune and stare at them until they give up. Maybe try and look as dull and innocent as possible until it drives them to boredom.

Or…and this wasn’t my best idea – I could try and cross.

I have to find my family, which means, most likely, I need to get out of this blue desert and find actual people…if they exist here. Every day I’m separate from them twists my stomach a little harder and my already addled mind starts to imagine…did a white wolf find them? Did they run into the snake-rabbit creatures, or the spike-wielding humanoids? Did they escape or… did they…

I cut off the musings with clenched teeth. It’s not good to wonder. The what-ifs will weigh me down, building like a phantom of stress that crushes any desire to continue, and I need to continue. I need to get out of this desert.

Also, I’m sick of this blue sand.

So, risk a crossing? …yes.

It’s the fastest option, and I comfort myself with the knowledge that the weird snake-rabbits hadn’t been killed until they’d eaten, or technically until they reached for more blue sand. So maybe taking the sand was the trigger.

The possibility troubles me, considering I’m possibly lugging contraband in my bag. If there was ever a time for the sand to disappear this would certainly be the ideal moment. Just in case, I retreat out of sight again, even hunkering against a dune to check my satchel. Fortunately…sort of…it’s empty.

“Well…” I’m not sure how to feel.

It’s frustrating that my belongings keep disappearing, but I’d also like to avoid getting speared by mouthless stalkers. It is what it is I suppose…

With the knowledge that I’m free of smuggled goods I return to the border, unsurprised to see my guests still there. However, this time I crossed the dune I typically kept between us, pausing at its edge.

The humanoids twitch, just a little, and the movement is unnerving.

I laugh nervously. Haha…it’s fine… I mean technically they could’ve speared me at this distance, and look at how NOT bleeding I am. It’s great! Probably…

I take a deep breath and lift my hands in the air. I curve my lips into what I hope is a peaceful smile, but then feel terribly stupid. They don’t have mouths. The expression is literally meaningless to them.

“Hello. I…um. I would like to cross please?”

They make no further movement, only continue to stare.

“I’d just like to get out of this desert.” And ironically, into another one. “No harm intended.”

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I shuffle closer, pausing to see if they advance, but instead they sort of…lean…back?

That’s odd.

I take another couple of steps, and their stance shifts again, and it’s starting to bother me now because I can’t figure out what they’re doing. The border is nearly beneath my feet and my eyes catch the closest gaze of a humanoid, and I swear its eyes shimmer blue. Then I stall, toes touching the line and the eyes shift.

It’s…it’s a feeling…like I’ve seen that look before. I don’t know what the word is, but… I don’t like it. There’s something disturbing about it.

My breath rattles in my chest and I clench my fists.

Come on! Don’t lose your courage now! It’s probably nothing…

I step across… and the humanoids move instantly.

They leap forward, practically a blur, and I stumble back, tripping over my feet. My face plants into a pile of blue sand and I spit it out as the sweetness turns bitter. I’m shivering and it’s as I twist around that I recognize the terror I’d last felt with the wolf.

My eyes shift up and I look at the line.

The closest humanoid is frozen on the bronze sand, hand outstretched…

I can clearly see the color in its eyes now, a strange blue glaze that coats twisted black orbs.

I crawl backward until my back hits the dune and I clench my shaking fists against my side. The closest humanoid drops its hand, but it remains at the border. They all do, their eyes ever fixed on me.

I try to assess the situation logically. It takes a second, and I have to take several breaths to calm my heart before reason kicks in. Essentially, nothing bad had happened. I was fine. There’d been no spikes, no overt signs of aggression. As far as I knew they may just want to help.

But…I can’t convince my brain that it’s true.

There’s not even a good reason, no logical evidence for the feeling, but… it feels dangerous. It feels dangerous in a way that set my nerves on fire.

The feeling drives me to my feet and I stumble over dune after dune until the ominous figures fade into the distance. I clench my fist around the strap of my bag and measure the trajectory of the sun.

I’ll need to change my strategy.

I’m not going to cross the border, not now. Not until I can ditch my fervent stalkers. But that leaves a different problem. How do I lose them?

Do I need to travel further back? Can they sense me? And if so, how far away can they follow my presence?

I try to puzzle out other options, but the most reasonable seems to be putting distance between us, and it’ll allow me to deliberate other plans while traveling.

I trek away from the line, glancing back several times to check that the humanoids hadn’t decided to suddenly cross the line. I hunker against a dune when the sun sets, fighting the aching weariness that comes from my hurried pace.

My eyes track the endless blue expanse and frown.

I’ll need to be careful to maintain my direction. It won’t be hard to get turned around without something solid to follow. The ocean is likely several days away and the delta lies eastward, so maintaining until I find the ocean is my best bet. From there I can follow the border, and maybe with time, find another outlet with signs of life that aren’t quite so…hostile.

When the sun rises I’m fidgety. Sleep hadn’t come easy and every shift of sand heightened my senses. It’s the wolf all over again, and I plod through the blue dunes with groggy focus. It’s monotonous and long, and unlike before there are no mystery items to explore between hikes, at least not any I can find.

The ocean appears on day four.

My sleepy musings have turned to food. Waves lap at the beach and I imagine a fat fish flopping onto the sand. I could skewer it with a stick and turn it over a fire. I can just about bring up the taste and the smell lingers in my nose. Hmm… the memory clouds and then fades with a final hint of salt.

I’ve gotten better at it, digging around in my brain. There’s a building familiarity, and I start to recognize what memories will come easy and which will fight it out.

And curiously, I find that there are places I can’t touch, like my name for example. I’ll be wandering about and suddenly find myself prodding at a door, and no matter how much I yank at it or pound on it, I can’t pry it open. There’s a dozen of them at least, tucked here and there between hints of hot rolls and cold, creamy sweets.

It makes my mouth water.

Ugh…I have to get out of this desert!

The site of the ocean makes it worse. I start wondering if the light I saw in the water…what was it, a week ago, could’ve been food? I want fish – some docile, easily caught fish. I can’t quite get the image to leave and I find myself wandering toward the water on several occasions.

I pull myself back though. Considering everything I’ve seen so far, whatever pops out will likely eat me.

Well…I suppose the snake-rabbit creatures died before I could discern their temperaments, but let’s be honest. They wanted sand and I, presumably, was still carrying contraband at the time of their demise.

Hmm…

I consider for the first time that I should find a weapon. Even a stick would do. In fact, that white stick I found in the tower would’ve come in handy if the spike-wielding humanoids had turned on me. Well, unless I died before they got close…which was likely.

I wish the stalkers had thrown an experimental spike while following me. I could’ve used the resource. There’s nothing out here but sand and water out here.

Maybe back at the tower I could’ve pried apart the stone, or tested the vines for use as a weapon, but that option is days behind me, and I refuse to go back. Leaving is probably the bravest thing I’ve done so far and I don’t have the heart to lose it.

Meanwhile, I suppose I can keep filling my bag with sand and use it as a club…

It’s when I punch my eight-times empty bag two days later, bitter sand coating my tongue, that I catch the telltale splash of white peeking over a distant dune. For a moment I think I’m turned around, but I know for a fact that the ocean was on the other side of the last tower.

I stare at the sight, uncertain how to feel, and wondering if empty towers are all I’ll find in this place.

The sand settles in my stomach and the growling quiets every swallow.

It's then that it comes to me…the look that I saw in those blue-glazed eyes.

Hunger.