Slicker than Snot

It turned out getting rid of the snot from Devrim's body was even harder than either the Emperor or Brinn had thought. The slick surface would have been a great water repellent… if there were any water to be found.

It was also a great attractant of sand.

If Devrim had to guess, this special fluid was how the wolves could so easily breath under the dunes they dragged around on their backs. Their noses filtered out any grains that might try to sneak into the creature's lungs.

But Devrim cared less than none about that. All he desired was to be rid of the slime that felt like sludge and smelled just as bad.

Climbing up before the ominous cloud reached them, Devrim immediately pitied the people who allowed him into their wagon. The back of the caravan had not only picked up Metehan, but all of the other stragglers who had lost their wagons.

Additionally, the closest men wanting to escape the sandstorm had also sought out the shelter of the wagon and were now tying the flaps firmly shut.

All of this meant the confined space held too many people and a rank, less than clothed Emperor. The only saving grace was that no one —except Brinn and Metehan—knew his true identity.

Upon seeing the ruler, Metehan immediately cleared his throat. "Do you have a towel?" He asked the wagon driver, who was sitting beside him.

Flustered, the woman dug around and found a cloth which would have to do, and poured a bit of water on it. She passed down the line to the back, where it finally reached the poor Emperor.

Meanwhile, another had found a robe for Devrim to wear, and another had dug out a bandage and ointment to tend the Emperor's wounds when he was finally clean of the green goop.

"What happened to you?!" a child asked, her mouth hanging open as someone tried to cover her eyes and force her to look away.

"Isn't is obvious?" Brinn winked at the child. "Th is man right here achieved his lifelong dream of becoming a human sneeze! It is only too bad he had to do it while the rest of us were fighting for our lives." The elf clicked her tongue, "So selfish!"

Devrim flicked the towel down his arm, sending a shower of slimy snot right at the elf's face and hair. Brinn gasped, then sputtered as the foul smell became a foul taste.

She frantically scraped her nails against her skin and hair, but that only made it worse. By the end, she had a new hairdo that would never become fashionable.

"Forgive me, most honorable elf," Devrim said humbly, "the towel got away from me."

"I'll remember this, Lover Boy," Brinn muttered under her breath, "in fact…"

The wagon rattled and shook as the wall of sand finally hit the caravan. The wind sounded like a wailing woman, making the child who had spoken a few moments earlier bury her head in her mother's chest.

"What about the horses?" Brinn was suddenly less concerned about her hair and more concerned about the dozens of animals left out in the elements.

Metehan answered her calmly. "The Dunesmen's horses are trained to lie down and weather it while using the wagons as shelter when possible. I only hope the Imperial horses have enough sense to follow their lead."

The wagon shook again, this time more violently. "Sh, little one. The wind may be mighty, but the wagon is wide and low to the ground. We will be fine."

Sand sifted through every crevice of the canvas and wooden seams, slowly making the air inside the wagon filled with fine dust.

Coughing on the particles, Devrim found sand was sticking to his skin. He was slowly becoming dirtier with each wipe of the towel.

In response to the cough, the wagon driver passed around a water skin. Each of the Dunes people poured some on their face cloth before wrapping it tightly around their mouths.

When the flask made it to Devrim, there was just enough water for him to pour on his new head scarf.

Putting it against his mouth, the air was fresher. He realized the water helped to filter the air. It allowed him to breath without feeling like he was eating grit at the same time.

After making no further progress cleaning himself, Devrim reluctantly shrugged on the new robe over his tattered clothes and dirty body. It felt grimy, but at least his skin was no longer exposed to the thick dust.

His body was covered in thousands of tiny lacerations. but the ointment he was given would do no good with the air being so dirty. Dervim would have to wait until the storm was over to tend his wounds. Thankfully they were not life threatening. Unlike the wolf's gaping maw...Devrim shuddered.

"You cold?" Brinn suddenly seemed concerned. She had no problem teasing him as long as he was fine, but if there were something legitimately wrong, she needed to know.

Devrim allowed a pale smile. "I am a lot of things right now," he admitted, "but cold is not one of them."

The body heat alone was enough to be stifling. More water was passed around, this time for the people in the wagon to drink. Dehydration was just as deadly as the wolves; the Dunesmen knew this well.

There were so many questions Devrim wanted to ask Brinn and Councilman Metehan. But with so great an audience, he felt that he should wait. And talking was becoming harder and harder anyway.

Even with the water to slake their thirst, the people's throats felt dry and itchy. Outside, the storm raged on. After the first few jolts of the wagon from the wind, it settled into a more steady rocking. The howl of the storm became more familiar, and the little girl nearby relaxed enough that she fell asleep in her mother's arms.

After what seemed like an eternity--but was really less than an hour--the wind stopped as abruptly as it came. The sudden change in noise was jarring. At first the occupants glanced at each other to confirm they had not gone deaf, but all were not hearing the blessed sound of silence.

The front and back flaps of canvas flew open, and the Dunesmen began their routine to get back on the road.

Devrim felt the blinding light of the sun as he exited the confined space. With the sand and canvas, he had been in almost total darkness for quite some time. The sun was equal parts welcome and unwelcome as he shaded his eyes.

The world around them had shifted drastically. The blood from the battle as well as anything left of the abandoned wagons was gone. Either it had been blown away or buried. The result was the same.

Devrim wondered if the people would try to dig up their lost items, and a couple of men did venture off behind them, but most seemed concerned with the present problem. Bushing down the horses and digging out the wagons.

Most of the horses had found a way to take shelter; only a couple had fled when the storm hit, so the women and children who were tall enough took brushes to clear off as much of the saddles and the hair or the horses as they could.

The men, for their part, grabbed special shovels to dig around the wheels of the caravan. While Devrim was inclined to lament that the wagons were partially buried, Metehan reminded him that the sand helped to weigh them down against the wind. So the digging was annoying, but it was necessary.

Trying to help, the Emperor grabbed a shovel and joined the men. But he was unfamiliar with their process, and seemed to be making little progress. No, it felt like he was causing more harm than good.

"Perhaps you should seek out your wife," the Councilman suggested. "We will be on our way soon enough."

Graciously taking the hint, Devrim went looking for Aurora. He passed many wagons, though not nearly as many as he should have.

The number of people, however, seemed more stable. Most of the Dunesmen had been able to escape the wagons which the wolves destroyed.

Spotting the Emperor, Nurlan did a double take before rushing over to give a report. A few of the horses had been lost and two soldiers were significantly wounded, but overall the company had remained in tact.

That was a relief.

What was an even bigger relief was the woman walking quickly toward him. The burning of the sand against Devrim's bare feet matched the flame burning in his heart.

Those blue-flecked eyes got him every time. He was hers and happily so.

"You're alive!" Aurora called when she was in range.

"You cannot get rid of me that easily," Devrim grinned as he repeated Aurora's words from their last similar encounter.

"We really should stop almost dying, you especially!" his wife threw her arms around the Emperor's neck. She immediately recoiled. "What are you covered in?"

Devrim winced. "Uh yeah, about that. Brinn might have a new nickname for me…"