We walked and walked till I was too tired to go on. When I awoke I lay upon hot unforgiving sand, the sun beating down on my fair skin. My strength had not yet returned but forcefully I pushed myself up, now sitting I surveyed my surroundings. Every direction I looked were rolling hills of sand and rocks, so hot you could see it reaching for the sky. To my left lay my husband. His lips were chapped from the heat and a burn was already visible on his skin. I try to say his name but as my mouth opens I hear another from behind me say “I’ve found them.” I slowly turn and what I see is a man dressed in knights armor, all black, with a helmet shaped of a bull’s head. In disbelief I fell back to the sand and lose consciousness.
I awoke some time later, my environment different. I could feel rocks and heat under me, getting trapped in my clothes and scraping my back. I rubbed my eyes and a figure came into focus, she wore red armor. She was tall and thin with long dark hair falling from her helm, shaped like a dragon’s head. She dragged my husband by his ankles behind her, and she hummed a beautiful tune.
The black knight marched on, dragging me through the sand and dirt, through the sunshine and the moonlight. It seemed like our journey would never end.
And then, there was shade.
For the first time in so long I felt cool. He gently lay me on a bed of blankets and pillows, and walked out of the tent. I could hear voices outside talking in a strange dialect, a man and a woman. Her voice was strong, domineering, and snide sounding. His was rough, gritty and low. They talked for some time before she entered the tent as well.
She came and looked upon my face, her hand slowly caressing my aching burnt skin. “We will get you there, little dove” she said offering me her personal canteen. I sat up, vision still blurry, and leaned towards her. She gently poured the water down my throat. “My husband?” I say, “you were dragging him” she took a swig from her canteen “He’s here” she says “but hes worse off than you” she points to the bed on the far side of the tent.
I can see him, he’s so red. I try to stand but fall to her feet. “He’s in good hands” she tells me, trying to reassure me. The black knight pulls the door of the tent and enters, arms filled with fruits. He walks to my husband and kneels. He reaches to his side and pulls out a decently sized hunters knife, in horror I cry “Please! don’t hurt him!” they both begin to laugh. The man in black smiles at me, reaching for a mango from the pile. “He needs to get his strength back. He is safe, little dove” his knife piercing the mango’s hard skin, he brings a small piece of the orange fruit to my mouth. It was delicious.
Two days and two nights passed, before my husband awoke.