Prompt# 162 - Stalemate - Heat Waves - Tekia - original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: Heat Waves
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Stalemate
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: I don’t even know. Things don’t always go as planned when you decide to follow myths instead of common sense.


The sun was blaring down on the bright sands stretching out before his little wagon. Heat rose from the ground in thin lines of distortion that made Sasha pass a hand over his eyes to keep himself for falling for the old trick of the desert. He sighed and looked back at the old wagon that had brought him so far only to leave him stranded as the axle broke with one too many bumps on the trail.
He sat in the shade the wagon offered and narrowed his eyes, hoping that, somehow, a town, a settlement, a fort, hell, an ocean had appeared on the horizon. Of course, he was still alone out here without another human for miles and miles.
What had he been thinking, going off on his own?
The crow will guild him. He snorted, turning his own dark eyes to the bird still perched on the branch of a long dead tree. “You’re not much help, now, are you?”
The black crow ruffled its feathers and turned his head away, peering down at him through one black eye. Sasha returned his gaze to the sparse desert rolling out before him and silently cursed himself.
The desert will care for you.
He frowned when he remembered his old gram saying strange things to him when he was naught but a child, back in their lush field of green clovers and flowers. He hadn’t known was a desert was, back then. He had followed his gram from the moment he had learned how to walk and had heeded her every word, although more often than not, he couldn’t understand her meaning.
Now, he had to wonder.
She had told him that his skin was different because he was different. He was of the desert, she had told him. His father had raged at Gram for saying such things to him, and his mother had only smiled that small, knowing smile. He hadn’t understood and then the fire had happened that had taken them from him, and he was still left without answers.
Stupid him, he had been gullible when the salesman from out west had offered him a place to make it big. For his last dollars, he had acquired a wagon, food stores, and a place in a caravan, and the first few steps to his future.
The caravan had stopped somewhere along the trail, the family, or rather, clan, having decided to make a town then and there and test their luck. This left Sasha in quite the stalemate as the people began building their new homes and he was still alone in the crowd.
Something had called Sasha further. He had followed the crow, just as his gram had told him, all those years ago, and now look at him. Stuck and helpless.
The crow flapped its wings and alighted from its perch and glided down to peer up at his down turned face.
“What do you want?” he asked, sourly.
The crow chirped up at him and stepped closer, spreading its wings and puffing out its chest. Sasha sat back and glared, mildly startled by the bird’s antics.
“Sorry,” he offered sheepishly before pulling his knees away from the bird. Better safe than sorry.
The bird turned its back on him and Sasha couldn’t resist sticking out his tongue at the creature’s back. Sasha sighed and let his head drop back. Well, this was just great.
Now he’d angered the bird and he was still stuck between nowhere and nowhere. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his folded arms and stared at the heat waves.
He couldn’t die here, Gram had said nothing about the desert killing him, but sometimes grams didn’t know everything. He shivered despite the heat, despite the sweat trailing down his face and clenched his eyes closed against such morbid thoughts. They wouldn’t do him any good. Not at all.
The crow cawed again and Sasha opened his eyes to find the bird had wondered off a bit and was picking at something buried in the ground. Curious, Sasha crawled forward and reached down just as the ground began to tremble with oncoming horses. Eyes wide, he looked up and smiled when he saw a wagon trail approaching.
He looked at the crow and found the bird now perched on his shoulder, the object it had been digging at clasped firmly in its long beak. It was an odd talisman that Sasha couldn’t place, but somehow felt was of the crow’s own people.
His eyes narrowed on the bird, “Did you break my axle just so you could find this?”
The bird chirped.