secrets of the sands [Mazuku and Whirlwind] [CLOSED]

He heard the soft step, the whisper of air as Whirlwind moved closer to him, and there was something strangely reassuring about someone moving towards you for protection. Not away from you. As if you could be trusted.

His ears twitched, uncertain as he glanced at the screamer once before looking ahead, watching as the light steadily grew stronger. The air was growing more crisp and cool, and he drank it in greedily, scenting the cougar as he moved steadily onward. He made no secret of his approach, hooves clopping down onto the stone and echoing. As they rounded a corner he gazed out into a small opening, big enough for them to squeeze through one at a time, and he signed at Whirlwind briefly.

Let me go first.

He poked his head out, listening for any sign of the Aodhians, but before him was just an empty stretch of land until the next low canyon wall. To his right, it stretched out into open plains. He scanned slowly, ears swivelling until he locked onto a flash of reflected light.

The cougar was crouched above him on a boulder, long tail twitching back and forth as she stared at him, eyes shining in the gloom.

Slowly, he stepped out, grunting as his shoulder brushed the cave wall.

His eyes stayed on the mountain lion, her tail sweeping against the rock as she watched him as well, letting out a low, warning growl as he began to walk towards her.

“We don’t want to fight you.” He said firmly, wing fanning out to its full size, feathers bristling along his chest and back. “Go.”

He watched her, unblinking, wing still fanned out to his full length, feathers splayed in a rare display. His wing ached whenever he stretched it out like this, but he held it out steadily.

His ear twitched, hearing the distant shout, and he cursed under his breath, risking a glance back to Whirlwind.

“Please tell me there’s a pit of snakes near here we can lead them into,” He groaned, even as he took a threatening step towards the cougar, ears flat. His voice was a little louder, a little rougher, intent on encouraging the lion to keep her distance from them. He didn’t want to hurt her, but would if there was no other option.

Gently, his teke covered Whirlwind’s blade, slowly pushing it back into its sheath.

“We can make a stand here, get them as they have to come out one by one, or we can try to hide and let them run past us. We’ll never outrun them, unless it’s nearby.” He said, meeting the screamer’s eyes.

He watched him, unsurprised at the way his face changed at the notion of taking care of the rest of the Aodhians. To Mazuku, it meant little- what were more dead equines, to add to his long list of sins he’d never atone for?

Whirlwind, though. Whirlwind had a clean record. He hadn’t had a choice in the cave, and maybe one day he would make peace with that.

He nodded, glancing once towards the cougar, keeping one ear pointed towards her as he moved to follow Whirlwind, limping as quickly as he could go, teke sputtering and glowing as he too made an effort to cover their tracks, once they were away from the cave.

Maybe, if they got lucky, the Aodhians would see the blood and tracks, and the mountain lion waiting at the mouth of the cave, and assume they had turned back, fled deeper into the tunnels rather then face the predator. He could only hope, for Whirlwind’s sake.

He made his way steadily as he could, and was grateful for Whirlwind not coddling him, even when he stumbled and swayed. His shoulder flared in pain, because of course it was his bad shoulder, the one where nothing had ever healed quite right and now was almost a daily pain. His muscles screamed as he hauled himself up the last short distance up to the outcropping, settling down onto his stomach with a low grunt of effort, making himself as hard to see as possible from the cave entrance.

And besides, he needed a minute.

“I think so too,” He grunted agreement, ears swiveling constantly as he listened, alert for any sign of approach from the Aodhians, the cougar, or anything else that might come looking for them. “We can rest up a minute, then try to make it for that cave you mentioned.” He said, teke glittering dimly as he adjusted his bloodied scarf, craning his head to get a look at the wound on his shoulder. It wasn’t as deep as he feared, and so he doubted it would need stitches, but it was long and still bleeding, and probably full of all sorts of debris from their trek through the cave and up into the rocks.

He gave a mental shrug- physical one would hurt too much- and turned his attention to the rest of him, checking over the other collection of injuries he had gathered. He would tend to them later, merely taking stock of severity, glancing over towards Whirlwind.

“You hurt?”

He allowed Whirlwind his quiet, his grief, merely being a silent presence at his side. He had nothing else to offer him.

His breathing slowed over time, less rapid but still labored, heart finally returning to a steady, slow rhythm in his chest. He could depend on that. He lifted his head, following Whirlwind’s gaze to the stars, and for a moment a strange sense of longing flickered over his face, staring up at the empty sky above them. Winds he would never taste again, a goddess lurking above who turned her back on him long before, but maybe he had turned his back to her, first.

He didn’t know. It hardly mattered. All he knew was that no one was looking out for him. It was all up to him.

But maybe a little part of him envied Whirlwind, envied that ability to look up and see a goddess looking back, when Mazuku just saw cold light, impossibly far away.



He pushed himself up to his hooves, shaking the dirt from his coat as he leaned his head down, giving Whirlwind a nudge with his nose.

“Let’s get going, before somethin’ else decides to go wrong.”

He let out a dry, humorless rasp of a chuckle, shaking his head tiredly as he looked at Whirlwind, quirking his mouth in a weary ghost of a smile.



“It’ll hold,” He promised, because he knew it would. He had no other options. He refused to allow it to fail him.



He glanced once behind them, ears swiveling as he listened for any sign of danger, before he nodded to himself, adjusting his bags before he took the first painful step, teke glowing as he automatically covered his own tracks. He knew Whirlwind could cover his own, and if Mazuku left any trace of himself behind, he would cover that as well. It felt selfish and weak, to allow someone else to pick up his slack, but he had little other options. He was just selfishly grateful that he wasn't alone, but he kept it to himself. He doubted that Whirlwind wasn’t aware of it.



The walk was, thankfully, uneventful. They were lucky, Mazuku thought, and a tiny voice wondered if maybe Whirlwind’s glance to the sky had been a prayer for protection. He wondered if the sky goddess was listening to one of her children, even if he travelled with someone like Mazuku.



It wasn’t as comforting a thought as it might have been, thinking the sky goddess had her eyes on one of them, but not the other. It just hurt.



It was long later by the time they reached the cave, the first hints of dawn beginning to bleed into the sky, a watery gray dimming the stars on the horizon. He gazed out at it, face somber, before he turned and stumbled into the cave, barely pausing to do a cursory check for any sign of other inhabitants before collapsing onto his stomach. He was keenly aware of his legs trembling and did his best to ignore it, tucking his forelegs under himself so hopefully Whirlwind wouldn’t notice, teke fumbling through his bags as he looked for recently pilfered medicine and bandages.



“I’ll take first watch. I can’t sleep until this is all done.” He grunted, tearing bandages. “Rest up while you can. I’ll wake you later.”

He was grateful Whirlwind was sensible and rested without a fight. Most of the time he got into arguments with Serorans on who took first watch- he had a reason to stay up, he doubted he would get much rest at all, honestly, and he was thankful Whirlwind didn’t stay awake to coddle him. He could take care of himself, and he was glad for the silence that descended onto the cave, broken only by the distant sounds of insects settling down for sleep, the birds beginning to wake as dawn made its first brushstrokes on the horizon.

He worked quietly, cleaning and bandaging wounds with a long practiced ease. He used the barest amount of medicine, just enough to ensure it wouldn’t get any worse, figuring he’d barter for a savior’s treatment later in exchange for work. It was a common practice he had done in the past, after all, and it was easy to fall into old habits of bartering and trading instead of using money. It was so much simpler, dealing with shards, but Serorans were not a simple people and sometimes, in the deepest parts of himself, he could admit that he liked that about them.

He waited until he was fairly certain Whirlwind was deeply asleep, Mazuku’s wounds all tended before he quietly removed the screamer’s weapon from its holster, frowning at the bloodied blade. Whirlwind had put it back in immediately after the kill- a rookie mistake, but he couldn’t blame him for it. It wasn’t as if he was used to it. The holster would need a thorough cleaning as well, but it was less important than the blade, and Mazuku didn’t dare try to unbuckle it and risk rousing him.

It wasn’t a bad blade, honestly. Probably wasn’t very old. He gave it a look over, testing the balance and staring down the metal, looking for imperfections in the craftsmanship. Serorans were deeply practical in their weapons, but they didn’t mess around with them, and he appreciated the simple artistry of it. It was a simple matter to clean it, removing the dried blood and polishing away any sign of the struggle. He ran over it with his whetstone, the soft scrape barely audible. He had used it earlier, on his own blade, so he hoped that Whirlwind would not wake at the sound.

With great care, he put it back on Whirlwind’s harness, blade gleaming like new. He could not undo the events of the night, but he could spare the screamer the task of cleaning his first blood off his weapon.

He removed his bags, tucking them under his head as he shifted, spreading his scarf over himself more as he settled down, wing ruffling at his side as he laid down.

He gave Whirlwind a soft nudge with his teke.

“Hey. It’s morning.” His jaw cracked in a yawn, already closing his eyes. “‘M just gonna rest for an hour or so, then we can go.”

His ear flicked towards him at Whirlwind’s soft gasp and jolting movement, but he didn’t open his eyes, giving the screamer a private moment to come back to himself. He ruffled his wing, tucking his nose underneath it as he grumbled tiredly.

“Not really,” He said bluntly, eyes still closed, muffled by his wing. He hadn’t preened, the feathers sticking out at strange angles, blood mixed in his dark plumage. The mangled remains of his other wing fared even worse, only hinted at from where it peeked out under his scarf. “But if you need to hurry back to the caravan, we can just go.” He mumbled, barely resisting pulling his wing over his head. He could go days without sleep, if he needed to, catching cat naps like this where he merely rested his eyes. It was hardly ideal, but he could keep going.

He grunted an affirmative, finally pulling his wing fully over his head, and fell silent immediately after, the only sign that he was resting the slow, even fall of his flanks.

In truth, he did not sleep. It was too hard to sleep after a night like that, and as much as he respected Whirlwind, it was still hard to sleep near someone he had only met the day previously. His guard stayed up, much as he tried to lower it, too damn tired to hold it up but it stubbornly remained. He dozed lightly, jerking awake any time he started to drift too deep, his wing fluttering every so often as his body rejected a deep rest, too afraid of what lay beyond the dark, of being vulnerable.

True to his word, it was only an hour later when he remerged from his wing, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. He didn’t give himself time to wish for more rest- it was the bare minimum he could continue on with, and so he pushed himself up to his feet with a groan, joints popping as he stretched.

He stepped out into the sunlight, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the glare coming off the rocks and sand all around him. He’d never really get used to it, this exposed brightness, so opposite of everything he preferred. He was born and raised in the twisting forests of Sirith, had forged himself in shadows and dark pathways, had moved in the night and rested in the day. Standing out in the already beginning to boil heat, he could only sigh, feathers lifting to allow himself to cool off faster.

“Ugh.”

He smoothed his wild hair back, tightening the little ponytail to keep his hair off his neck, glancing at Whirlwind as he spoke. He was unused to the praise, to the thanks, ears flicking back as he blinked at him.

“Better with them then Aodh,” He grunted, shifting his weight as he fastened his hair. “And you were half the work too, don’t forget that.” He pointed out. He knew Whirlwind hadn’t accounted for the supplies in Mazuku’s packs, that he had counted up himself while Whirlwind rested. He knew they were all worth a fortune, he could barter them away for about anything he wanted, but the only things he needed were what he carried. There was no reason to hoard the supplies, and he had no intention of trying to bargain for them.

He thought of foals with no energy to play, thin coated equines with empty eyes.

“You did well.” He said lowly, focusing on each step as they walked off onto the plateau. He was exhausted still, and his heavy bags tugged at his back and shoulders. The bandaged one strained under the weight and motion, but held. It would be enough.

He had no qualms about telling Whirlwind he had done well, because he had, and he doubted the screamer was quite aware of it. He had almost been able to hear him doubting himself the entire night. He didn’t look at him as he spoke, ears swivelling slowly, aware of every sound around them as they made their way slowly but steadily back towards the caravan.

The sun blazed against his coat, growing hotter with every step until the sunlight felt like a physical weight on his back, and he could already feel himself darkening with sweat, the ground under his hooves scorching. Ugh, indeed. Why had he come back, again?

He huffed at Whirlwind’s comment, ear flicking as he glanced his way once, brows raised a fraction before he glanced away again.

“Not half bad,” He replied gruffly. The screamer was definitely one of the less annoying Serorans he’d spent time with. And he had met a lot of annoying Serorans. It was borderline impossible to admit it, though, and so he danced around actually admitting that he did not dislike Whirlwind.

“Have definitely had worse team ups,” He grunted as he lifted his head, squinting into the haze of the horizon, keeping a lookout. His gaze flickered towards Whirlwind again, then away.

“If you or your bands ever need a merc… look me up.” He swished his tail, scanning the land around them and pointedly not looking at Whirlwind. “Believe me, I know it will not be paid work.” He added dryly.

I’ll remember you well.

His ears twitched, face suddenly heating up, a rare show of embarrassment as his feathers ruffled in response, turning his head away with a huff.

“Shut up,” He grumbled, reaching out to lightly thump Whirlwind’s side with his wing, but a brief show of his face revealed the hint of a smile.

It was a rare sentiment expressed to him. It was rare enough to even say that he would see someone again, but for someone to tell him to his face that not only would they remember him, they would remember him well made something in his chest ache strangely. He tamped it down, did his best to ignore the odd warmth pooling in his lungs like heartburn. He was hot enough as it was, stuck out in the ceaseless Seroran sun, burning high above without a shred of mercy.

The return to the caravan was uneventful, though long. They could not run with Mazuku’s shoulder injury, forced to keep to his stumbling pace, though he stubbornly kept from resting, wanting to push on at his slow, laborious gait. It was late afternoon by the time the pair limped towards the caravan’s camp, and Mazuku was relieved to just finally be done with their little adventure. It was still just where they had left them, the camp sitting quietly, only a lone fire going, but with none tending it. The few equines he could see all appeared to be resting, listless, keeping watch but none had noticed the two approaching yet.

He paused at the sight of the camp, reaching out to touch Whirlwind with the tip of his wing, a silent gesture to stop.

“Hey.”

He hesitated, ever present frown deepening as he looked at the screamer.

“Just so we’re clear. I’m not going to make any attempts on any Aodhian camps for a while. You should lay low, too. Keep that hood up if you ever come in contact with any Aodhians.” He warned. “They’ll be looking for us for a while. I don’t think you’re dumb enough to try for a camp on your own, but no heroics with any soldiers, either. If they recognize you, they’ll kill you.” He said bluntly.

In Mazuku’s own language, it was an act of care. A warning was a declaration of interest in the other’s well being- he wanted Whirlwind to stay safe. He didn’t know how long he would stay away from the camps and soldiers, long enough to heal and for him to fade into the back of their minds, but he knew he would act again. Alone this time, to keep the screamer from having to make a terrible choice once again.

He scoffed at the reply, but there was not heat behind it, his ears tilting back in feigned annoyance. He didn’t look at the screamer, staring past him at the camp, thinking about the last time someone had asked him to stay.



“...I’ll stay to rest my shoulder, but I’ll be gone by first light.” He grunted. Stay, stay. A little voice pleaded. “Trust me, your caravan doesn’t need one more mouth to feed, and I attract trouble like carrion attracts vultures.” He snorted.

He cuffed Whirlwind over the head gently with his wing, limping past the screamer.

“So get that sappy look off your face. You’re stuck with me for a few more hours,” He called behind him, saluting with his wing to the few equines who whinnied a greeting towards him.

He huffed something that might have been a laugh, leading the way with his slow limp. His ears twitched in surprise at the last offer, turning his head to look at Whirlwind with his brows raised.

“Would be much obliged,” He admitted, inclining his head gratefully. He knew Whirlwind wouldn’t offer if it was too much trouble, and he was appreciative of that. As gruff and dry witted as Whirlwind was, he was still Seroran at heart, and part of Mazuku wondered if Whirlwind even recognized that as the screamer offered him such valuable information. He wasn’t about to comment on that- he knew his own Seroran heart would be revealed as well. If it hadn’t already.

As they returned to the camp, Mazuku quietly made himself scarce, allowing an exhausted Saviour travelling with the caravan to tend to his shoulder and force him to eat something before collapsing in a shady spot. The only thing he really wanted to take from this caravan was a safe place to rest, and he could only allow himself that luxury for today. By nightfall, he’d be long gone, moving on to the next caravan, the next town, the next dead end.

He slept like the dead, and in his dreams he walked through an eerie empty, silent landscape where ash fell like snow. All around him was gray, and broken glass crunched beneath his feet, soundlessly digging into his flesh.

In the distance, a funeral pyre burned without sound.

He woke around sunset.

Feeling about as tired as he’d been before he napped, but with a considerably less pained shoulder, he rose up to his feet, ready to get going.

He’d kept the contents of his saddlebags to himself. He assumed Whirlwind had already divvied out what he’d brought, unsure if the screamer even knew Mazuku had shoved supplies into his bags as well.

He left almost everything piled neatly beside a little pile of rocks, a screamer sign scratched into the sand denoting it as an open cache, the only way he could think of to ensure Whirlwind wouldn’t think he’d left them by accident. It was the only language he knew they both could read.

With his bags considerably lighter, he adjusted his scarf to cover his bandaged shoulder, making his way quietly to the last place he had seen the screamer. He made no secret of himself, grunting a reply at the Serorans who greeted him when he walked by, or simply flicking his tail in acknowledgement. He had no energy to talk, but they didn’t seem to have it either. Normally he couldn’t cross a camp without at least two horses stopping him to talk or invite him into something.

He went on in near silence, but the mood was considerably lifted from yesterday. Whirlwind had probably divvied out the supplies, then. He was grateful for it. Tonight, no one would go to bed hungry, at least.

The sun was just casting its last rays over the camp, turning Mazuku into warm shades of brown and nearly lilac gray. It had only been yesterday, that he’d come here looking for information, and was only just now getting a map.

Funny, how things worked out.

“Hey, Twister.”