Inside a crowded marketplace, a woman with almond-brown skin and loose braids picks through a table of assorted bits and bobs. Her strong fingers pause on a small stone carving of a mighty creature with a powerful animalistic body, great feathered wings, and an androgynous humanoid face. The woman takes the statuette gently, raising it to her face and turning it every which way, scrutinizing the meticulous details of the carving. Her deep brown eyes shimmer as she tucks it to her chest, carefully makes her way through the throngs of people to a nearby counter and places the model in between herself and the man behind the counter. He looks up from a shelf beneath the counter and smiles warmly.
“Oh, Geo! What can I do for you today, kid?”
“Morning, Ta’Lon. It appears business is doing well.” She softly pushes the statuette forward. “Salt or copper?”
The man, Ta’Lon, carefully inspects the item before him. “Ah, I see you’ve found my daughter’s latest carving. She is so proud to honor the Sphinx. I have you to thank for that, I believe.”
“I would not say that, Ta’Lon. Your daughter is full of spirit, always has been. It is her nature.”
“Even so,” he holds his hand out, palm up, towards her, “salt, please. It was your stories that brought out her shining faith. I have never seen her more joyous than when she is listening to you, kid.”
Geo opens a pouch attached to her belt and smiles. “She has a great talent for art. Send her to me soon, I can show her my altar. I believe this particular carving deserves a place of honor.” She deposits a handful of salt into the man’s hand, takes the stone Sphinx into her palms, and delivers a small but sincere bow. Ta’Lon smiles wide and reciprocates the bow, assuring Geo that he will have his daughter visit in two days. Geo weaves through tables and shoppers, making her way outside of the market.
She walks past various people dressed in similar silks and linens, waving and calling out to some as she makes her way west. A coyote-like animal approaches and rubs against her calf, and she joyfully reaches down to pet it, careful of the statuette still cradled in her arms. Some clicks from a little boy across the path have the animal trotting away, back to the boy waving at Geo enthusiastically. She bows her head gently to him and moves along. A few children kick around a burlap ball. Her walk continues for only a few seconds longer. She reaches a small caravan and pulls open the door, stepping inside. The exterior is coated in paintings, the largest of which is a golden sphinx above cerulean clouds.
Every inch of the interior is covered in hanging fabrics, childish sketches, golden trinkets, and various tchotchkes. A hammock bed filled with cushions of all hues is hung from the back wall. A large circular shield featuring a sphinx silhouette sits proudly beside it. In front of one of the few small windows is a slightly clearer space with a singular blue pillow on the floor, set before a low shelf. Geo kneels down and gingerly sets the new statue beside a set of candles. The sphinx carving fits perfectly among other memorabilia featuring the same creature. With her thumbs linked together and arms crossed, the woman lays her fists on her chest and bows her head before the small shrine. A familiar feminine voice calls her name from outside, interrupting her prayer. She stands abruptly and rushes out.
Geo finds her mother outside hanging linens on the clothesline strung between Geo’s miniature home and the next one. Her younger brother, not yet a teen, sits nearby building sculptures in the sand. “You called, Mama?”
“Sunshine, grab that basket, will you?” Her mother points over her shoulder. Geo moves to help, holding up the basket so her mother can more easily pull out clothes to hang. “The sands are growing restless, you know. Rani says we should be packed by next morning.”
“I’m scouting tonight with Captain Shey and another trainee, so it wouldn’t surprise me.” She readjusts the basket to sit on her hip now that it’s lighter. “Ta’Lon told me his daughter is growing interested in the Sphinx. I bought a beautiful carving of hers just now.”
“Oh, good for her! That little one is so full of light.” They move together along the line. “She reminds me of you most days. You both hold the sun in your eyes.”
“She is coming by the day after next. Do you think the encampment will be set up by then?”
“I’m not sure, dear, though I am sure she would not mind a distraction. Moving is quite a bit of work for a child.” When her mother takes the empty basket from her arms, Geo moves to her brother and ruffles his thick curls. He squirms to escape her teasing hand, accidentally kicking over the sand camel he was trying to make. With the distraction, it is easy for Geo to reach beneath his arms and lift him into the air, spinning around as his indignant squawks dissolve into giggles.
“Geo, put me down!” He manages through his laughter. She does.
“Kisu, I have an important job for you.” She kneels in front of him and looks into his bright eyes. “I’m scouting tonight, so I may not be here when the sun sinks low. Do you think you can watch over my caravan until I get back?” Kisu thinks for a moment. “Now, I would not ask this of just anyone. It is a very, very important task. I trust you, Kisu, to keep my home safe. I know you are the one for the job. Will you help me?” His face lights up, teeth showing through his huge smile. His head bobs up and down excitedly.
“I will keep it safe, Geo!” He adds in his small voice.
“That’s my brave boy.” A bell rings further along the aisle of the temporary village, startling both of them, though Geo recovers composure quickly. She stands and turns to her mother, who takes her daughter’s face in her hands and touches their foreheads together softly, holding her close for a few moments before releasing her. Geo repeats the motion with Kisu before jogging back into her caravan for her shield and walking staff. Kisu takes their mother’s hand in his, both watching Geo rush out and down along the path toward the bell.
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“Be careful, sunshine.” He hears his mother whisper, though his sister is much too far away to hear.
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Wrapped in a tan cloak with her Sphinx-marked shield attached to her back and her walking staff in hand, Geo and two other scouts make their way along the sandy plateau they’re currently perched atop of. Captain Shey, a broad-shouldered woman with dark skin and an amber hood, holds her hand up to stop her followers. She signals to the first, a young trainee named Atomee, and points to a large dune due north of their location. Then she points to Geo and gestures west toward the sinking sun where stone ruins poke just above the sand. Captain Shey tilts her head northeast to a twisting rock formation creating loops of sandstone, holding her palm to her chest to indicate her own task. Geo and Atomee nod silently and stalk off stealthily on their assigned paths.
Geo carefully approaches the ruins, her shield now hooked to her right forearm in preparation for adversaries. She sneaks carefully around the perimeter, accepts that there are no immediate threats, and sweeps along the sand to the nearest visible wall. Broken stones long eroded by wind make up four crumbling sides of a half-buried temple. What was perhaps once a commanding bell tower has since fallen from its perch and shattered into hundreds of shards. Investigating further, Geo can see no trace of whoever left this temple behind, nor whatever they had been worshipping. Besides animal bones and dry vines, there is hardly any sign of life at all. Suddenly, a large screech sounds in the distance, shaking the ruins and sending loose rocks scattering. She raises her arms to cover her head and crouches low to protect herself from the walls trembling around her. After a moment or two, the ground settles once more. The deafening roar rings in her ears as concern begins to soak deep into her bones. After one last sweep of the area, Geo begins making her way back to the original plateau.
The sun kisses the horizon as Geo twists about in search of her scouting party. There is no sign of either Captain Shey or Atomee. Weighing the risks of being spotted by an enemy, she bounces between one foot and the other, head on a constant swivel. Eventually, it is fear that wins out. Geo lets out a loud, shrill whistle, trilling the pitch four times and then sweeping to a lower note. She listens carefully for any signal that her call was heard. The only reply is the howls of the wind. Glancing worriedly at the sunset, she decides the captain can handle herself and begins the trek north toward the dunes.
Cresting the top of the hill and looking down the other side, Geo searches for a sign of Atomee. The winds begin to pick up, a warning of the coming storm. They were due to return to the camp hours ago. As sand buffets her face, she pulls her scarf up above her nose and whistles once more, though her voice is all but lost in the noise that quickly envelops her. The search continues for as long as she can allow. When the last blue of the sky has vanished, overtaken by citrus orange clouds, Geo is ultimately forced to give up her search and begin making her way home, hoping to catch up with the captain or the other scout along the way. Looking once more at the setting sun, she links her arms in a quick prayer, then starts walking.
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She knows something is wrong immediately. While it’s nearly impossible to see further than a few feet in the darkness, the smell of acrid smoke creeps in through her scarf. Something tangy and bitter coats her tongue. Geo quickens her pace from a jog, to a run, to a full sprint. It’s familiar, the taste. She remembers it from combat training, when her instructor landed a swift kick to her face and broke the bridge of her nose. That taste had coated her throat and overtaken her thoughts. In that moment, she knew only two things: blood tastes like the copper filings left behind by her father’s metalwork, and cartilage breaks hurt like hell. She reaches the peak of a sand dune and is instantly halted by the sight before her.
The once vibrant camp was torn asunder, splintered wood and tattered silks littering the sand. Thick black smoke obscured much of the wreckage, blending in with the night sky and coating the stars in an opaque haze. In the few bright spots that were illuminated by wicked flames, dark sand clumped together into rock-like pieces. The ground was stained burgundy, brutal lines torn through the well-worn path. Fingers of a broken hand lay outstretched beside a puddle that had saturated the sand, the rest of the body attached to it thankfully obscured from visibility by rubble. The world goes silent despite the violent winds and burning timber.
An earth-shattering scream tears itself from Geo’s throat. The sphinx shield drops from her grip, thudding heavily against the ground, and her body is quick to follow. Boney knees hit the sand hard and she sinks, almost like the roots of the planet are pulling her deeper into it. Muscular arms tremble as they wrap around her torso, searching for comfort and finding only emptiness. Maybe if she pulls into herself hard enough she can simply disappear, twist her body smaller and smaller, an ouroboros that can vanish into the wind. But no matter how hard she grips her skin, the snake’s tail remains out of reach of its teeth. She remains planted like a tent stake, her entire body shaking. The smoke and the wind and the sand and the sky mock her grief. They crackle and howl, settle and stare. The world spins on, leaving a lonely girl behind in the ruins of her home.
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Dawn encroaches on the destruction as Geo wanders through the hauntingly silent camp, tears falling freely down her cheeks. The wind slams against her, but she can’t find the energy to care. Smoke continues to caress the ruined tents and caravans. Sand has coagulated the numerous crimson pools. Ivory shards decorate the ground. Geo can’t look at anything for longer than a second. Her eyes lock on the horizon as she walks, leaving her ears open to the smallest sound, the tiniest sliver of hope. The wind roars. The sand shifts. The taste lingers. The hope fades.
She trips on something hard that she dares not look back at and falls to her knees, letting the sobs overtake her. Clumsily, her arms link together into a comforting position, and she prays. She begs for the Sphinx to hear her wobbling voice. The words that tumble from her lips are all but unintelligible, deep and tragic sounds that mirror a language dead as weeds. She knows if anyone were around to listen, they would call her crazy. They would shake their heads in pity at the girl who lost her mind to the sands. The words she breathes into the air are nothing but the ramblings of unimaginable grief. But Geo trusts that the Sphinx will understand her. The Sphinx will answer.
A powerful burst of air hits her chest, flowing directly through her linked arms and dispersing once it pounds into her heart. The force is nearly enough to knock her upright from her knees. To steady herself she reaches her hands to the ground, startled by the unfamiliar solidity beneath them, and traces her watery eyes along the outline of the crater she’s found herself in, noticing for the first time the familiar markings of a print. Swaying to her feet, Geo spins in circles as she commits the massive shape of a monstrous clawed foot to memory. As a scout, she’s studied tracking for years. No creature stands a chance against the rage that now pumps through her veins. After all, every monster can be slain.
Her eyes harden as she marches toward the rising sun, the Sphinx shield banging restlessly against her back.