By Kit Campbell

Eri pulled her goggles over her eyes, peering out across the dunes. It was growing dark, the heat and brightness dying away into something almost sinister in its absence. They had thought her crazy for venturing across the sands, but she had hoped that another oasis might have the answers her own lacked.

Her sister was dying. A sickness of the soul, the medicine woman had said, one that had eked in over time and was now too entrenched to be healed. This was as sure as the sand that blew into new dunes each day.

“For, while sand flows,” the woman had said, “it never soothes.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eri had asked.

“No, no.” The woman had paused, as if there were something, something she was unwilling to share.

But Eri remembered her sister’s gentle words and how she had always stood by Eri’s side, and she could not let her closest friend fade.

Thus far, her journeying had been in vain. Each oasis had taken her in, the medicine person listening to her story, but none had any hope to offer.

“You’re not going, are you?” This oasis’s medicine man, a small, nervous creature, hovered behind her. But why should she not? She could see the next oasis, its lights gleaming from beyond a nearby dune. And without the heat of the day, without the blinding sun, the journey would so much easier.

Besides, she was running out of time.

“Wait until morning,” the man practically begged. Eri turned, securing her scarf over her face. In the fading light, he looked even smaller than he had before. He would not stop her, and so she left him, heading toward the light and the promise it held.

It was much darker in the desert than she had expected. The shadows between the dunes grew and danced, as if they held forgotten creatures. Still, Eri kept going. The other oasis could not be far, and it would do her no good to go back.

The darkness and silence pressed down on her. Above, the stars sparkled, but they seemed muted, as if there were something between Eri and their light. Tonight, the wind was noiseless. The only sound was the sliding of Eri’s feet on the never-ending sand.

Then, even that was gone.

Eri paused. The stars had winked out of existence. And behind her was a quiet so complete that her own breathing could not break its hold. Though she knew she should not, she turned.

A shadow, darker than a starless night, lurked there, deepest black except for the glow of what might be eyes. It was too tall, stretched out to unnatural proportions, but still oddly human-shaped. It crouched over, its long arms dragging silently in the sand.

Eri spun and fled, her feet slipping uselessly as she flung herself up the side of the dune. The crest stretched eternally overhead. No matter how she tried, it would not get closer. And she could feel the shadow behind her, skulking, stretching out that strange hand…

The stars twisted back into view. Eri stared up at them, felt the sand underneath her back. Slowly she pushed herself up, but the shadow and oppressive darkness had gone. Just beyond where she laid was the cusp of the oasis, its greenery stopping abruptly a step away from her feet. A woman stood at the edge, watching her. She did not wear the trappings of a medicine person.

“Come inside the oasis,” she said in a low voice, “before it comes again.”

Eri scrambled to her feet and across the threshold. Her scarf was missing. “Did you —”

The woman turned away, heading deeper into the green. Lit lanterns hung between the palm trees surrounding the pool giving life to the oasis, and on the far side, Eri could see the rest of the tribe settling in for the night. The woman did not go to join them, but headed to the edge of the water.

Eri followed. “But what —?”

“You are a fool.” The woman stared down at the pool, then sighed. “Do they not teach you to stay out of the dunes once dark falls?” She glanced over at Eri. “You will find no help for your sister here. There is none, not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Look into the water. What do you see?”

Eri glanced down at the pool at their feet. It was a sizeable one, though not the largest she had seen since leaving her own, and the waters reflected the sky above. Was that what she was supposed to say? But it didn’t feel right, and she kept it to herself.

“Before the world ended, there was more water, more green,” the woman said after a moment. “Water that ran deep into the earth. Ancient water. That is what you would need to heal your sister. That ancient water knew things that our shallow water has forgotten.”

Ancient water. Eri could feel a yearning in her gut at the idea, something base and instinctual that stirred her soul. “Is it all gone?”

“If it is not, what is left lies far from here. And there are dangers in the sands.” The woman gave Eri a significant look. “There may not be places that are safe on such a journey.”

Eri wanted to ask about the creature, but could she be sure that she had not imagined it? Her scarf was gone, yes, but she could have dropped it in the dunes. And perhaps she did not remember the trip because she had been tired from a long day of disappointments, or perhaps she had been lost in her own thoughts.

Still, the woman would not be warning her if there was nothing to fear.

“Think on your decision carefully.” The woman indicated the water in front of them. “There will be no guarantee of success. It may be better to return home knowing you did what was reasonable to try and help your sister.”

She turned and headed off toward the rest of her tribe. Eri remained, staring down at her reflection in the water. After a moment, she bent down, trailing her fingers through the surface. The woman was right; her sister and her tribe would bear her no ill will for her failure. Indeed, she might be heralded a hero for heading off into the dunes alone and returning. But ancient water… Eri could almost feel its coolness on the back of her tongue, could almost feel the whisper of its flow.

Her reflection wavered in front of her. When it solidified again, her face looked different, though Eri could not tell what had changed. Her reflection tilted its head to one side, looking off toward the west.

Eri blinked, and her reflection blinked with her, normal again.

“Is there no defense? No charms to be had?” she asked her reflection.

“They do not enter the oases.” The woman was back, and when Eri looked up, the sky was beginning to lighten. How quickly the night had passed. She glanced back at her reflection, but there was nothing of note. Still, the bottom of her trousers were wet, as if she had stepped into the pool, though she was fairly certain she had not. “Some think it is the light that keeps them out, since they are not seen during the day, but I wonder if it is not something else.” Her eyes traveled briefly to the pool, then back to Eri. “Travel during the day if you can. Find shelter at night where there is water if any exists past these oases. If there is not…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish.

Eri stepped back from the water. So it had not been a creation of her mind. “What are they?”

The woman paused, and like Eri’s own medicine woman, Eri got the impression of something more, something unwilling to be shared. “We call them Sandwalkers,” she said finally.

Eri rolled the word around her mouth. “But what are they?”

But the woman said nothing. Eri gathered her bag, pulled her goggles back over her eyes, and headed toward the western edge of the oasis. The tribe was stirring, and several people watched her as she passed, but none came to bid her farewell. It had been much the same at the other oases, after she’d been delivered to the medicine person. She was just passing through, after all, and the tribe always came first.

She took a deep breath as she reached the edge of the greenery. It was still cool, but that would not last, not when the sun was high overhead. She had not remembered to refill her water bag, but when she checked, it was full. Had she done it sometime in the short night? Eri shook her head. Best to go and get this behind her.

How she wished she had not lost her scarf.

The woman was beside her again. “For your travels,” she said, offering a linen bundle. Eri smiled gratefully and took it, tucking it in the top of her bag. She would get as far as she could before the sand started to blow. Though she could see no telltale green in her direction of travel, perhaps there would be an oasis she could stop at around midday.

That first step back onto the sands was surprisingly hard, but Eri forced herself into it, and into the one after. No shadows reared into being before her, though the sun continued to climb. The woman offered no further goodbyes, and Eri did not see the point in prolonging the inevitable.

All that day she walked. She saw nothing but dunes and sand. But the sun set in front of her, so she was still heading in the right direction. Eri clutched her bag tighter, staring at the reddening sky, but miraculously, a tiny oasis rose out of the sands just as darkness began to fall. She hurried to it, to its single tree, and sat, back to bark, staring out in the direction she had come. It felt like there was something there, something following her, though she saw nothing and the stars twinkled overhead.

It took a long time for sleep to come.

The days melted together. Each night, at the last moment, relief and safety came. Eri suspected that was not a coincidence, that somehow these had been set along a path that had been lost to the people of the oases. But the nights grew worse. While she never saw the shadow, she knew without a doubt that it was there, and that the safety of the oases weakened.

The wind had not blown since she’d left. That in itself was so different that the quiet, with only her footsteps to break it, was wearing on her nerves. By the time she reached the oasis each night, she was ready to scream just to hear something, anything.

Was this worth it? Was her sister still alive? Would Eri see her home again? It seemed more and more likely that she would die out here in the middle of the desert, farther than anyone had traveled in memory. Her bones would be covered by the sand, and no one would ever know what had happened to her.

The next morning, the wind returned. But there was a different quality to it, something Eri could not put her finger on. It was… deeper in sound, or there was some other sound that traveled its path with it. But it was a change, a sound, something that said that the world still lived, that Eri still lived.

When she filled her water bag, she emptied the pool that made up the oasis.

Eri dug the linen that the woman had given her out of her bag, running her fingers reverently along it. She could almost believe that she had imagined other people at this point. Something fell out of the fabric onto the grass.

Bending down to retrieve it, Eri found it was a small, hard, clear container of some sort. She picked it up, clicking on the side with her fingernail. Could it be… glass? Had the woman really gifted Eri something so rare? She had seen glimpses of bottles in her medicine woman’s tent, but had never been allowed to touch or even get too close. It must have been a mistake; the woman must have forgotten she’d put the bottle in the linen.

It was filled with water, the open end stoppered with something small and brown. The woman’s words came back to her. I wonder if it is not something else.

Eri tucked the bottle inside her shirt, close to her heart.

She set off into the desert with more purpose, the wind giving her heart. The change must be for good, perhaps a sign that she had left her silent pursuer behind her.

All that day she felt lighter. The sand did not pull at her feet, and the bottle against her chest was a welcome weight. The sun continued its arc overhead, guiding Eri on her quest.

But night seemed to come too fast, the sun not setting so much as becoming hazy and indistinct. It was still a decent height in the sky when darkness began to fall.

Eri did not have to turn to know what would be there. But how could this be? She clutched the bottle through her tunic and turned. Instead of her single shadow, stretched across the sand despite its thinness, there were several. In the growing darkness they were one black mass, discernible from each other only by their glowing eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into those eyes and she could not get it out again. She fumbled for her water bag — empty from her travels for the day — and then for the bottle. It was such a tiny amount, if that was what kept the oases safe, but she had come too far, was too close to something, to go down without trying.

The shadows lurked closer, reaching out for her with their flat, elongated hands. Somehow she’d fallen back against the dune that now loomed overhead. Her limbs were heavy, and it was a struggle to keep hold of the bottle.

No further features became clear as the creatures got closer — there were just the eyes, the glowing eyes.

Eri finally managed to wrench the bottle out of her shirt. The creatures reared back, glancing about as if confused. The weight lifted from Eri’s chest and she whirled, clambering up the now finite dune. The sky lightened, though some of the darkness remained. As she crested the sand, she could feel the creatures behind her, but they were farther away now, hesitant in their following. The sun, barely visible through the creatures’ haze, continued its downward path toward the horizon. Eri knew that there would be no safety, no tiny oasis, tonight.

How long would her bottle hold them off? She held it tightly in her hand, hard enough that her fingers went numb. If she dropped it, she was lost, but it was such a small amount of water and the desert was long. She would need water or she would perish, whether the creatures got her or not.

What would happen, if she gave up and let them take her? She shook her head, pushing on as the darkness around her ebbed and swirled. Best not to think that way. She had come for a reason. She had come too far to give in to doubts. If her sister was still in this world, Eri had to do what she could to save her.

The sun was well and truly setting now, the creature-made darkness tinted slightly red. They were getting bolder. Eri turned around, waving the bottle behind her, though at the moment she could not see the creatures. But it felt like they backed off, though it might have been her imagination.

The sun disappeared, including its rosy trail through the sky. Darkness settled.

She wandered for what could have been an eternity. She could not tell if the sun did not rise because it was still the same endless night, or if because the unnatural night of the creatures had deepened too much. Her limbs grew heavy, weary, and though there was never the wall of sand blocking her, she could not be sure she was getting anywhere.

The wind persisted, though, rippling along her scarf and trousers, though she could not be sure she still heard it.

One foot in front of the other. She could feel a phantom touch on the back of her neck. The creatures, getting closer? Or just death coming for her at last, to take her to where her sister would soon be?

No. She had to go on. She had to.

The sand beneath her feet changed, a new, firmer consistency. Eri barely noticed, afraid to let her focus on moving forward falter. But then there was cold, and wetness, and she realized that she’d wandered into water.

But not water like she’d ever seen before. She stopped, raising her head. The water rolled back and forth, drenching her ankles and then retreating back into a pool larger than she could have imagined. Even the creatures’ haze could not conceal its enormity.

They were on her. Eri sank onto her knees, closing her eyes, as their touches became heavier. She had failed. To have reached what must be ancient water only to fall to whatever the creatures were…

The water rolled back in, and behind her was a strange sound — the creatures — like the wind but stronger, higher. The touches vanished, and when Eri opened her eyes again, the stars twinkled overhead, reflecting across the watery expanse.

She knew without looking that someone stood beside her, but she could not seem to rise out of the sand.

“Thank you,” said the someone, “for bringing my children home.”

Children? Eri wasn’t sure she had said the word aloud, but that didn’t seem to matter.

The someone pointed up at the sky, and Eri managed to look. Small sparks of light danced overhead, rising and falling again to run across the water. Each spark managed to emanate pure happiness, and Eri felt her own soul answer.

These were the same creatures that had pursued her? “But they were afraid of the water,” she protested.

“Not afraid,” the someone answered. “The water reminded them of what they had lost.”

Eri watched the lights in silence for a long time. “Can you help my sister? Do you know what ails her?”

“It is what ailed my children.” The someone laid a hand on Eri’s shoulder. “You yearn for what has gone, the waters and the green places. Some yearn more than others. But I can help her, yes. I can ease her soul. But it will be temporary, and then the yearning will return, stronger than before. What would you have me do?”

Eri thought of the path along the desert, the small oases that were starting to fade. They could not support two people, but, perhaps, if she sent her sister ahead, and then followed, they could both be here, by the water’s edge. “Help her, please.”

“It is done. And now, a token of my appreciation.” The water swirled around her knees, leaving a large, beautiful object, smooth yet spiky along the edges. Eri reached for it, pulling it up onto her lap.

“Sleep now, child,” said the someone. Her voice was distant, though, like a dream. Eri could no longer keep her eyes open and sank into the first peaceful sleep she’d had since leaving her oasis.

She awoke to find herself lying on soft grass, the morning sun starting to warm the desert around her. Her sister sat beside her, knees tucked up against her chest. There was color in her cheeks and life in her eyes. Eri sat up, holding her head, but she too felt rested. Next to her lay both the bottle of water and the water’s gift. Eri picked the latter up, running her fingers down its length. She could hear the someone’s words, but could not seem to recall anything else about them.

Eri offered the gift to her sister, who took it wordlessly. She ran her hand down it, then looked out to the west. Eri rose and went to pack.

It is a little known fact that Kit was raised in the wild by a marauding gang of octopuses. It wasn’t until she was 25 that she was discovered by a traveling National Geographic scientist and brought back to civilization. This is sometimes apparent in the way that she attempts to escape through tubes when startled.

Her transition to normalcy has been slow, but scientists predict that she will have mastered basics such as fork use sometime in the next year. More complex skills, such as proper grocery store etiquette, may be forever outside her reach. She can be found online at http://kitcampbellbooks.com.