Midday in Numubya

Being caught outside in a heatwave was like being without your lover when you needed them. You felt it everywhere, and there was no escape. 

Two empty canteens were slung around Springa’s neck. Forty six more rested in either side of her saddlebag. The uneven ground and the sloshing water made every step murder on her back. Her shroud kept the sun off her fur, but it was slick with sweat and trapped sand against her skin.

She looked up to gauge the distance she had still to travel. Another mile and half to Numubya.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be pregnant, she thought. It probably wasn’t--she’d seen local mothers in the deepest months of their pregnancy run like panicked antelope at the approach of her army. Right now, she couldn’t run if her child’s life depended on it.

Beside her, Peque let out a deep groan. It was the kind of sound grandparents made. The kind of sound that made grandkids uncomfortable, that they themselves might one day be so pained. Victims of genetics. 

On Peque’s back was a metal drum, also full of water. 

“It tastes like piss,” he said, in a low, lumbering voice. “It’s all sandy.”

Springa nodded a little. Any extraneous movement might throw off her balance. 

“The beasts will hate it. They--”

“Shut up,” Springa said. 

Peque, perhaps surprised, closed his beak and trudged along beside her for a few more minutes. But silence itched like sand in a sweaty boot. Peque couldn’t help himself. 

“I can’t take this anymore,” he said.

“We can’t rest out here.” 

“Not that. I’m talking about the rest of it. This desert’s bringing out the worst in me.”

“It’s only two weeks til the city well opens back up,” Springa said. “We can wait.”

“Can the civilians?”

“They’ll wait, too. Once they get their water rations and we pay them, they’ll calm down.”

“We’re paying them?”

Springa furrowed her brow in annoyance. “Twenty eight civilians drank from the well and died.”

“But we didn’t make them drink.”

“But we’re occupying the city. And if we weren’t occupying the city, no one would have poisoned the well.” She stepped on a particularly sharp rock and let out a hiss of pain. She dared not shirk her hoof away, though. She’d fall for sure.

Peque shook his head. “More treasure lost. We’ll run out soon.”

“Equestria will send more.”

Peque suddenly stopped. Springa turned around. It hurt to look at him. The sun’s glare invaded her eyes from every direction. Vast empty desert spread out every which way. She saw the oasis behind him, its two meager buildings and the few scant trees hovering glasslike half a mile in the other direction. 

“We can’t stop,” Springa said. 

“They don’t care if we die.” Peque’s tone was not accusatory. Just tired.

“They care about the mission. And we have to carry out the mission.”

“Yes... the mission requires bodies, and bodies require water.”

Springa nodded. She rubbed her tongue on the roof of her parched mouth and prayed he would shut up and start walking again. Please, please don’t make me stand here any longer. My legs hurt so bad. Please. 

He seemed to read her mind, and started off again.

“You couldn’t have known this new well wasn’t poisoned, too,” Peque said, his voice low and strained. “They don’t give medals for testing the water. But I see you. I know what you did.”

“Don’t mention it,” she mumbled.

Springa looked up again, her eyes squinting against the glare of the sun. One more mile to Numubya.

Comments

[n3k1dsk1llz]

hhnnnnnggggg

so good.

this little world you're creating is so good.