Sand Storming

Natalia never knew how hot it really was here. Well, until she had spent seven hours on horseback in the desert, away from all civilization. She held a hand over her forehead, blocking the sun from blinding her. It was very annoying, to have to be in such a situation. She needed to find a city, so she can ask them for directions! She wasn't sure if she was actually happy with going home, since she was always stuck inside the palace. No one cared to visit her, and the only person she could stand was her big brother, Ivan. She wanted to marry him, some day.

Stupid Turk! She thought, remembering the fact that she was now bound to him for eternity. Unless, of course, one of them died. And at this rate, it would be her. She groaned, growing irritated with the sun constantly beating down rays and the lack of air. The horse under her was beginning to grow weary as well, having not been fed for hours, along with lack of hydration. Within an hour, the two would probably be stranded, dying from starvation. She sighed, slipping off the horse to lessen the load, hoping it would lengthen their time. She pet his nose, murmuring things in her own language before her eyes locked onto something in the distance: A patch of green in the golden sand dunes that surrounded her.

What greenery could grow in this desert? She wondered, scoffing at the idea that a random patch of greens could grow in such a place. That would require plenty of water- Then it hit her: That would mean the ability to gain water for her and her horse! She climbed on top of the creature, lightly dug her heels into his hips, and they took off towards the only bit of hope they had. As they reached, she jumped off the horse, tearing away at the shawl on her head and shoulders and the robe that covered her body. The water splashed as she thudded in, nearly tripping once her feet were buried into the murky bottom. Her toes squished in the mud, her hot skin growing to be as cold as it normally was in Belarusian wintery nights. Her clothes were going to be soaked, and she didn't want to sleep in wet clothing. She slipped off the pale blue salver and jumped in in her undergarments and bra-like top, a small smile creeping over her face as she rose out the water. The horse was lapping the liquid on its tongue in glee, and she pet it, rubbing her fingers in its black mane.

Her next quest was one of gathering wood and twigs from the trees, and anywhere she could, to start a poor fire that blew out within the hour. She then decided to make a make-shift bed with large leaves and branches, climbing into the tree and covering up with the robe. Although she was sure it was dangerous, it was her best chance at surviving the night. She checked to make sure that her knives were in her salver once more before letting herself drift off to sleep. Though she woke up many times in the night, she could say it was better than sleeping next to her "husband." Natalia slipped out of the tree (or fell, is you would like a more accurate description,) and stumbled to her horse, who was drinking from the oasis. "Well, little one, it looks like we shall start our journey tomorrow. We both need one more night of relaxation." The idea of relaxing and having infinite amounts of food at the oasis were tempting, but she knew better. The trees would not bear fruit for forever, and she needed to get further along.

Natalia slipped out of her clothes, and into the water. It was clean and clear, and she desperately needed to bathe after having slept in the same bed as Sadiq. She dunked her head under the water and scrubbed at her body with her nails, digging the sand and dirt away as best she could. She wished she'd brought some soap, but she expected to be on her way home soon. Natalia broke the surface, the top half of her body drying as it was revealed to the patches of sun through the leaves of the trees. She ran her hands through her hair, slicking it back with a sigh of happiness. She turned around, climbing out of the water, and began to dress herself.

"Little one, you should bathe, too." She called, drying her hair out with her robe, which she hung over a tree branch when she was finished so that it would dry. She looked up, having heard no noise.

Where is my horse? She thought, standing and walking past the shield of bushes and trees to where her horse was last. She pushed through the branches and leaves, her head peeking out after her arms and legs. She felt someone grab her wrist, and she startled. A man with a mask on his face, and long black hair had hold of her, and she could only think of Sadiq.

"You filthy Turks… Thinking you can take whatever you want." She spat, trying to tear her arm free from the man. He was not like Sadiq: He did not smirk, he did not laugh, but he grimaced and raised her high, before slapping her across the face.

"Little witch, you will not speak to me like that!" The man dropped her, his minions tying her wrists and legs. They threw her on a horse, saddled in front of one man. She looked around as they trotted through the desert, seeing that they were going further from where she'd come. "Damn men… What are you doing with me?" The one behind her nudged her with his shoulder, making her snap her head back at him violently. "We do love having beautiful women as our servants. Wonder who gets you, little witch."

"My name is Natalia Arlovskaya! Do not call me little witch, it is an insult!" She declared, hissing at the man behind her.

"Kucuk Cadi is a fitting name for her, boss!" Laughed one, whose mask was old and dirty, and cracked by the eye. Natalia frowned, not knowing what the name could possibly mean, but assumption caused her to think it meant something she would not like.

Natalia was standing behind the head chair at a dining table, dressed in deep red dancer's clothes. Gold henna was painted down her arms and legs, and decorated her hands, feet, and chest. She had no veil to cover her face, which was cold and solemn.
"Miss Kucuk," began the leader, who had never told her his name, "What do you think of the creation of war?" He peered at her over his shoulder, wondering about her position on the matter. When he asked what someone like her was doing in their country, she explained she'd been a prisoner of war. It suddenly became a popular topic.
"I think many of the men who are members of such violent acts should not have been born. Like plenty of men in this room."

All though it was a direct insult, and that she had said it with poison in her voice, the men laughed, cooing over her cruel personality.
"And to think, Kucuk Cadi is married!" The laughter rang even louder at their teasing, before Natalia dropped the tray she'd been holding. The leader snapped his head around to look her in the eye. "What happened?" He roared, nearly grabbing her wrist. She'd already stepped back, too far behind him for the man to reach.
"Clean up the mess, bastard." She sneered, turning to leave the room. The man jumped out of the seat, and wrestled her to the ground in anger. Pinning her arms, he snarled at the woman beneath him, whose face was contorted into a disgusted frown as she felt his weight shift. She gave him a glare, a growl, deep for her and just as threatening escaped from somewhere deep within her chest, causing a cocky smile to cover the man's features. He licked his lips, a hand sliding its way down her bare, slender thigh, before it crept to the inside. "You know, Kucuk, it is said that the best way to tell the difference between a beautiful woman and a witch is to see if even she can seduce a man of my caliber." The men around him laughed, giving cat-calls and encouraging hollers. As he spoke, Natalia pressed the sharpened end of a chopping blade against the man's stomach, pressing slightly to cut the clothing.

"I am no witch, you disgusting commoner filth," She said, pressing the knife further, "And you shall perish in this moment!" She shoved the blade into his skin, slicing open his stomach, kicking him off of her so that the acid would not burn her skin. As he lay on the ground, his body twisting and jerking in pain, his minions ran and screamed and had no idea as to what they should do for the man. She jumped up, wiping the blade off, before gathering more and slipping them into the hem of her skirt. She ran out the door, glad to be bare foot on the wooden surface of the flooring. She ran past other maids and other members of the clan, shooting dirty looks at anyone who dare stare at her too long. She was quick on her feet, and deadly with a blade, and no man could quite reach her. As she slid down the halls, she burst through a door, the long, wooden stairs flying under her feet as she held to the railing for dear life. She could hear shouting coming from above her, but focused on what was below. As long as no person was coming up the stairs, she would have no use for her knives. Just as she was reaching the bottom, the door swung open, a man almost as large as the one she'd sliced stepping through. He gave her one look: One of understanding, and brought his arms, ready to snatch her by her throat.

"Little wench, you'll pay for whatever it is you have done!" He shouted, his curls bouncing in front of him. He was pushed back suddenly by the force of a kick to his jaw, Natalia stumbling out and over the body. She stood quickly. She saw shadows of more coming to find her. Without a second thought, she looked around. A window, at the end of the hallway! She dashed madly for her only escape, diving out of the second story window, onto the wooden horse stall below. It buckled under the force of her fall, crashing, the girl landing in a haystack. She sat up in urgency, and looked for her horse.

"Little one!" She called, before seeing his head look up and find her, and then trotted to his master. She climbed on his back, and kicked his hips roughly, the horse making a mad dash out into the approaching sand storm.

Natalia recently realized the poor luck she'd been cursed with. If she did not find shelter soon, she and her horse would be sent to a sandy grave. She searched repeatedly for some shelter, but found none. She had thought she'd been heading back to the oasis, but obviously, she was lost. She got off her horse and walked, having slipped off her skirt to hold it over her head. At this point, it looked as if everyone was prepared for the sand storm, except for Natalia. She stared at the sky, the sun setting silently overhead. She'd been walking for hours, and although she escaped nearly a full day before, she almost wished she'd waited a little longer. That way she could have eaten and rested, regained her strength, and could have waited out this storm. As they walked, the sky grew dimmer and the little breezes of wind turned into billowing gusts, whipping her hair around in a furious rage. She looked around desperately, but as the winds picked up, she saw no other choice. She hugged the neck of the bulky horse, and whispered something in her language, before moving her arms so swiftly, it looked as if she'd merely jerked them. The horse fell limp to the sand, it's head snapped in to wrong direction, and Natalia sat on her haunches, slicing open the body, tearing out the insides, and crawling her way in as best as she could. Inside, she held her breath from the smell of the creature, biting her lip. She felt disgusted with her own savagery, her own selfish desire to live. As the storm passed, she could feel the weight of sand building on top of the little one, and she felt slightly crushed by the weight. The longer it went on, the more tired she got, and the more tired she got, the more worried she became. She curled up in a ball, having slipped her skirt back onto her body, and said a silent prayer. As she drifted off into unconsciousness, she had only wished she could have not died alone.

Sadiq hurried through the desert, searching for any sign of Natalia, but to no avail. He knew of all the oases near his home, and assumed she'd probably perish before coming close to any of them.

God dammit! Didn't she learn to fucking think in her country? He cursed in his head. As he rode on the horse, its hooves stomping constant reminders in his mind of the oncoming threat, his eyes darted to and fro from under the white mask and veil over his face. Something was leaping and stabbing at his chest, taking his breath form him in a fear he'd never dreamt of feeling. The idea of finding her body, anyone's body, buried in sand, or perhaps mutilated, or maybe alive but mistreated, abused, broken, bleeding, frightened him. She was small, she was frail, and this sun would burn her skin if she spent too much time in exposure to it. He travelled for hours, to village and camp and oasis, to nothingness that is the sand dunes, even through the sand storm. He had found shelter in a small cavern, and had a fire blazing for heat and food he had packed. He uncovered the dried beef and drenched it in water, chewing on it as he laid back, his arms behind his head. At times like this, sleep was certainly something he needed: Not really something he could get. He could hear the angry wind ripping at his hideaway, he could hear the venomous words of his bride, and he could hear a horse whinnying not too far away.

Who would be out in a storm like this?

He pressed his veil and mask onto his face and looked out of the cave, seeing horses and a wagon and colorful people disappearing from him.

"Gypsies? I haven't seen those in a while…" He murmured, recalling his last visit further north-west. He continued to stare, impressed with the amount of silver they had in their clothing, since gypsies wore greens, reds, yellows, blues, purples, and pinks and white, not really gold and silver. He stared, the thought of silver on a gypsy dwelling in his thoughts hauntingly, as if it were something more than what he thought. The material was long, thin, almost like it was still threads, not even clothing. Almost like silver angel's hair-

He jumped out of the cave, slipped onto his horse, and rode through the ferocious winds that almost knocked them over. His eyes were trained in the area the wagon was going, knowing there was only one town anywhere near where he was at. The storm was horrible, his horse finding it difficult to move quickly in the winds. He was breathing in sand and dust, and he got it in his eyes and mouth, and had not eaten nor drank in hours. He felt sick to his stomach, probably having swallowed and digested enough to make him sick. He felt his forehead, but the heat of his hands made it extremely hot. He was sure that he was ill now, form being worried and out in such terrible conditions. As he neared the village, the storm died down, and he felt a ting of relief. Entering it, many people stared at him wide-eyed from inside their homes, until he got off his horse. He collapsed soon after.