Change Display Name
Two fingers of the sun’s route later, Mareet squatted beside yet another patient and brushed aside a small cloud of flies. Her robes stuck to her skin and she tugged her sleeves elbow-high, yearning for a breeze. At least her hair had been tamed into oiled braids and for once did not add another level of annoyance.
She surveyed the man–no boy!–before her and bit her lip. Another flayed by the sands, but this one had managed to protect his eyes. His arm though… and not a sound from him, even as his eyes fluttered open, revealing confusion and blurred pain. An eerie silence, like the others. No screams or moans, just each warrior’s determination to win over the agony.
She shook her head and ignored the faint shiver that ran down her spine. Unnatural, in her experience, and not drug-induced, since they had so few, and what they did have did not relieve pain or provide a comfortable unconsciousness.
The smells, though. Rotting flesh smelled the same everywhere, although you could not escape it here. And the flies bit just as much as at the monastery.
|What I Write||
I write science fiction and fantasy, novels and short stories.
Since I’m taking nine units this summer *insert horrified expression* and doing school for the first time in forever, I am going to be gentle on myself: Fifty words a day on short stories or the novel.
It’ll be way more than I’ve had all year.