FFD: Shorts

The hot, arid air burns at her throat. The more she keeps climbing, the more she realizes just how unprepared she was for this. Her brother was right; it was never meant to be a cakewalk. If it was then she would've had no trouble leaving. A hand grabs at covering, her body following with it and collapsing in the sand for just a moment. She longs for her bed, the sound of iron hitting against itself, flames crackling and the sweat coming from the hearth.

"Keep up," a woman says, voice hard with a light tap of a sandal to her forearm, "An oasis... That's the next destination. A fool's paradise. ... We'll fit right in."

She can't tell if that was the woman's attempt at humor. A lot of things perplexed her about that woman; she'd never fit in back home. But she doesn't need to. After all, home's halfway across a continent by now.

"I'm good with my hands, Matchstick, not my feet! Why don't we swap sandals and you'll see what I lug around, eh?" The artificer teases, pushing herself to her feet and shaking out her gloves. She's worn, the urge to take off her armor and tie her bandana around her hair is strong. But if she starts slacking then it'll be a disaster! It's as Pilirani always says; *"Ev'ry lil' piece plays a part in a machine. That's what we all are; cogs churning makin' the world go 'round. If one spring wriggles loose, the machine breaks down."*

"Hey, I'! Irit!" She looks over her shoulder, calling to the woman lagging behind, "C'mon, slowpoke! It'll be worth it once we get there! I'll race ya if it helps, just down the dune and *bam!* We're practically there!"

She raises her arms behind her head before winding one back, hearing the joint pop underneath fabric and metal. She watches as Macha is the first to slide down the softer part of the dune, following along until she hears their soft-spoken friend chime from behind.

"Uhm... Actually, Kezo, the map says the oasis is... ten klicks south, not east..."

"What?! Wait, gimme that, no way we've gone that far off the path!"