The man's screams were barely muffled by the harsh wind.

“Telleya, go ask for another bowl,” mother said, handing me the bowl which wasn't even empty.

Glancing to the man, and the two other healers who were trying to hold the man down, I wondered why mother was even bothering.

“Hurry!” she hissed, and I went to obey.

With my haste, I got some of the bowl's contents on me. It had splashed upward.

Although I was no longer bothered by such things, and usually wouldn't have even noticed it... It was enough to make me pause momentarily.

Like my mother, several other healers were also covered in that man's blood. Chances were, before the sandstorm outside even ended, I too will join them in being dirtied to a great degree.

Damn him... Why couldn't he have just died like the rest of them?

Trying not to look at the bowl's contents, or listen to the man's screams, I hurried out of the healing room.

The bowl I carried was rather large, a bit bigger and it'd be more a basket or bucket than a bowl, and was almost too heavy to carry. It was a good thing I was going to be able to dump the contents outside... and not just because of the weight. The dark red liquid within didn't look right at all, it looked too...

Too defiled... as if there was sand mixed within.

Of course I knew there wasn't... I had watched the blood pour into the bowl myself.

A terrifying thought was there really was sand within it... maybe there was sand in all of us.

Sand in our blood.

Would not be too surprising really, there was sand everywhere, always, after all.

As I neared the exit, a new sound joined the heavy wind. A sound that was almost impossible to hear anymore, thanks to having heard it all my life.

Sand scraping against stone.

Unlike most other buildings of the House of Derri, the healing buildings didn't have stone or wooden doors, but flaps of leather. It was intended to allow quick entry and exit if needed... but the heavy leather, even reinforced with multiple layers, weren't enough to keep the sand out. My toes dug into sand long before I approached the flaps.

I had to push aside the leather flaps with my back and shoulder. It wasn't easy to do when they were both heavy and being pushed by the wind.

The moment I left the healing room, I was buffeted by the hot wind. The harsh wind.

The damned sand.

Tossing the contents of the bowl away from me, I made sure to not toss it against the wind. Although it’s been a very long time since I’ve made such a mistake, the nasty taste that I could still remember forced me to pay attention as if I did it just yesterday.

With the sand and wind followed the struggle of moving from the healing buildings to the storage. Fighting against the sandstorm, I hurried without much vision. I dared not open my eyes; I was in no mood to lose my sight for the next few days just because some hot-headed soldier's son thought himself one of the great warriors of old.

Upon nearing the storage building, I had to risk a look to make sure I opened the right door. Opening the wrong door during a sandstorm would only get me killed. Right before I opened the door, I stopped to wipe the bowl clean. I barely needed to scrape the bowl too heavily with sand thanks to the heavy wind. The sandstorm had been more than happy to do most the work for me on the way here.

Once I was sure the bowl was clean enough, I pounded on the door and waited.

It didn't take too long for it to open, and I hurried in. It was closed behind me so quickly that if I had stumbled or tripped, they might have shut it upon me. It was rude of them, especially since there was an elderly woman in the healing rooms still nursing a broken leg from such an event.

“Telleya? What is it, why are you running around during a storm?” Marli asked.

The young girl had a soft smile to accompany her question, but I wasn't in the mood to ruin it. I quickly glanced around and found that there were two others in the entrance, two men. Guards, or at least... men who believed themselves to be.

Unlike the young Marli, the men knew full well why I was here... and their faces told me I shouldn't ask it.

But I had to. If I didn't, then when the man died people might blame me, or my mother.

I had no choice.

“I'm to ask for water, if it can be given,” I said, gesturing to the bowl.

My request had been a simple one, and the answer was apparent... but the young girl mistakenly thought my request was worth repeating to those in charge.

Her soft smile became one of full concern. “Let's go ask right away!” she ushered, gesturing deeper into the building.

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For a brief moment I wondered if I should say anything, but one of the guards behind me snickered before I could. “Water for a dying man?” he disdainfully laughed.

Marli, with all her youth, barely noticed the man's meaning and instead chose to ignore it. “This way Telleya,” she hurried.

With no other choice I solemnly followed Marli as the two guard's remained near the door. By custom, at least one of them should have joined us deeper into the storage room... But neither of them wished to be present when my request was made to the distributor.

Like always the Sands were cruel, choosing Marli to be the one to hear my request. Why couldn't it have been one of the elders, or a male? They could have simply denied it and that would have been that...

“Who was hurt Telleya?” Marli asked as we walked the halls.

“Kleevin's son,” was all I said.

“Oh...” she didn't ask more, but I knew it wasn't because she didn't wish to.

After all, by now even she has probably heard of what happened. And even one as young as her knew not to bring it up. At least not aloud, and not within the very halls of the Derri.

Reaching a large doorway, Marli paused near the entrance and gave a small bow to those within. I waited before the entrance, waiting for Marli to be allowed entry.

“Enter,” a gruff voice said, and I allowed a small breath of relief to follow. He was old and full of tradition, but at least it was he who was on duty. He'd not reprimand Marli or myself for this, although he may grumble and growl over it.

For a moment I listened to the muffled voices of Marli and the others, but didn't try too hard to make them out. The roar of the sand outside was still strong enough to make it not worth the effort.

“You can enter and make your request Telleya,” Marli appeared and said, giving me a small bow.

With her bow, I noticed her stoic face. She must have been growled at, but at least she didn't seem fearful or in tears. A verbal warning was all she must have received.

Stepping forward, I made sure to walk formally as I entered, holding out the bowl as if there were riches within and I was about to give it as tribute.

“I won’t give you water, Telleya... if you've already used your allowances, there is nothing more that can be done,” the raspy voiced man said from behind a table.

“I understand sir. The lad's life depended on it, and as a healer it was my duty to ask,” I said calmly.

“Indeed. He will die then?”

The old man was like his voice, rough from the long years in the sand. And like most elders, the sand and heat didn't just toughen and darken his skin. A calm white eye peered at me as his other good eye focused on his work, writing whatever it was that he always wrote.

“He will sir. He may well be dead already,” I said.

“Just another grain of sand,” the elder said softly.

Coming from one of the head counters of our house, it was rather morbid.

“I shall return then, and see what more I can do,” I said with a small bow.

“I will have Marli prepare the burial,” the elder said, then waved me off.

Marli followed me out of the room, and I hid a sigh. That had gone far better than it should have.

“Sorry Telleya,” Marli whispered as we walked back towards the entrance. Our pace was slower now, especially now.

“It's not your fault.”

“Would water have saved him?” she asked.

Glancing to the young girl, I felt sick when I realized why she was asking... and why she had been so hopeful.

The poor girl had known the boy.

With this new knowledge, I decided to lie to my fellow daughter of the house of Derri. “No. His wounds had been too severe... more water would have only slightly dampened the suffering.”

Marli only nodded, but said nothing. She remained silent all the way to the door, and her head kept itself low as I bid her goodbye.

The sandstorm had weakened, but it was still enough to cause discomfort as I headed back to the healing rooms. Although not in a hurry, I was also not in the mood to get burns or scrapes from the hot sand, so I did run.

Pushing aside the healing room’s leather straps, I immediately noticed the lack of screaming. Brushing aside sand that had accumulated upon me; I headed deeper into the rooms to find my mother.

Only my mother however, and she was no longer attending the man in the corner.

He wasn't moving anymore.

I didn't need to inform her we had been denied, though I noticed her pained face when she watched me place the empty bowl back along the rest.

It was a sad sound, in truth. The dull clank the bowl made as I placed it with the others over a large barrel was somehow tauntingly cruel.

Though I could barely remember what the barrel sounded like when it had been full...

“He died shortly after you left,” Mother explained, writing into the journal of death. The large pen she wrote with was rather dark, and I could see the glint of fresh blood upon it. It was tradition to write the names of the deceased with their blood.

“So they killed all four then?” I asked.

“Yes,” mother said.

Four sons of the house of Derri... there was a time where so many deaths at once wouldn't have even been noticed.

Today however...

Although I knew the young man had joined the Sands, I still glanced to him to make sure he couldn't hear me before speaking, “How many soldiers are even left mother?”

“How many children of Derri are there?” she whispered back.

Sickened by her answer I chose to let it be and return to my duties. I was in no mood to contemplate the perilous situation we had found ourselves in.

After all, it was obviously not going to get any better... only worse.

Far worse.

“We'll prepare his burial once the sandstorm is over,” mother said once she noticed I was already in motion.

“I need to keep busy,” was all I said as I started preparing the body.

Preparing a body for burial was no longer that hard of a job. Ever since it became impossible to properly clean them, and make them presentable, all that was asked of us was to wrap them so they could be burned or buried.

Many preferred to be burned nowadays, liking the idea of their relatives rejoining the sands properly in the form of ash.

The wealthy houses have even begun the tradition of combining their fallen brethrens ashes into sand and turning them into glass work.

Although I've not seen it myself, the House of Hombil is said to have entire roofs and walls covered in colorful glass made from such methods.

It was probably a sight to behold... especially when the sun was allowed in.

But such sights are things I'll never get to see as a Daughter of Derri.

For just like this young soldier, I too was simply another grain of sand.

A grain in a sandstorm.