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Nekharat stood on the western shore of the Crossing and watched the waves rolling in and out, each with a rhythmic shush as they crashed on the sand beneath her feet. She shuddered as she drew closer, the cold sea foam assaulting her narrow pasterns with each affront. The ocean was frigid, and the last thing she wanted to do was freeze to death trying to swim somewhere that was even colder. That meant she was going south first—to the Dunes.

“Siktir et…” she cursed as she dove in. She kept her head as high as she could and pressed forward through the waves until she could no longer feel the soft sand. For what seemed like an eternity she swam, focusing on the position of the sun as it beat down from the highest point in the sky. South.

Nekharat kept swimming and soon found the water more refreshing instead of frigid. It was nice for a time to let her mind focus on the physical exertion, rather than all the uncertainty of the world. The time to ponder complexities would come soon enough.

At last, the familiar gentle hills of sand crested the horizon. The Dunes, she presumed. Though they weren’t familiar dunes, they were dunes all the same, and she knew that she would likely meet the stallion Bahadir again here if he was at all a watchful sentry. It was hard to know what to expect from a new land, other than the obvious—it was warm. Thank Tanrı for that.

The shoreline of the Dunes was vastly different than the Crossing, save for the shift in color of the sands from a pale shell to a deep golden clay. Thirst tugged at her throat and she lifted her nose into the salty coastal breeze, hoping for the slightest hint of fresh water. The desert was vast, and the clock was ticking. She lifted herself into a floating trot and set out to make her way among the sands.

NEKHARAT