Chapter 11: Quick Travels

"Mhm, we've been travelling for quite some time," have you grown tired? I had turned my face to ask the little girl. By now, she was covered in a thick layer of dirt. A little dagger hung at her waist but chipped against some thorny flora and fauna on the way. 

You look homeless.

And how is it you look perfectly fine! What martial art is this, the Germaphobes Ten Fists?

"Haha! Brat, I know how to move through the land. You will be able to do that in a few decades once you gain my finesse." 

You can just get out of that nasty habit of talking to me. I grow tired of having to read your lips so often.

This is how you speak to me!

While using our hands to speak, we created magnificent gestures while we jumped and moved—a theatric scene to witness. 

"Aish, come on, we are almost to the next town. Stop wasting my time." 

I continued to walk and felt a slight kick to the back of my leg. Over time, the mountainsides turned more beige. Trees and their leafy ends turned the same shade. The flowers filled in the cracks of sediments and rocks were covered by a thin, unknown layer. 

As we moved, the difference became more clear. What had started as a light layer of beige over the forest and mountainside, turned to a reminisce of a beach. But not the same colour nor feeling, as if someone was throwing sand at you and screaming "sunshine!" and "clear waters!" from ten feet away. 

"reminds me of sparkling wine." 

The little girl cocked her head at me.

Alcohol that has some bubbles, it changes the taste, and it feels like I am drinking water that is seizing. It's an interesting sensation, but not alcohol.

Can I try some? 

No.

You're boring. 

I waved my hand and sucked in my teeth. What did she know about me? I am a very cool old man, or at least I had my share of exciting stories. Aish, kids grow up too quickly. When we first met, she was a starving child, but now she is a brat. 

I can see you are making evil thoughts in that head of yours.

And I thought I was supposed to be the supernatural one. You have a gift child. It is not knowing how to mind your business.

I ducked and turned around to see a rock flying past where my head was.

My foot slipped.

Sure, it did. 

We passed the top of the hill and reached our next destination, Gobi. 

Where did all the sand come from?

I didn't bother replying to the little girl and only stared at the once-valley city in confusion. It was now a pit filled with sand. "To think there was so much sand it coloured the nearby foresty a beige.

I moved closer to where the city once was, step, step, step. 

"Ouch!" 

The little girl walked next to me and wiped the ground with her hands, and it was a brick. And it was connected to another one, and another. This time, a window pane stained by many colours. Then, wooden planks. 

"Well, the city is still here."