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Description
It's night. There's no movement in the desert air, nothing to suggest that this night is different from any other, and then it happens. The sand heaves. A moment later, all is still. There is no sign that anything has happened except the presence of a humanoid body that definitely wasn't there before.

It's a few moments before the thing sits up. It does so in a sudden movement, hands raised to protect its face. After a moment, the hands drop to the ground, which it scrabbles its fingers through. Sand pours through the digits while it watches and time passes.

Eventually, the thing tires of watching the endless fall of sand, and rises. It moves with a lurch, like it's forgotten how to walk properly. It's an eerie sight, the staggered jerking of limbs making a mockery of human movement.

It looks to the left, where the edges of a town graze the horizon, but it shakes its head and walks the opposite way. Step by ponderous step, the creature makes its way through the desert and the night. Time holds no meaning for it so when the night ends, it continues to lurch on through the passing of a full day. As the moon rises above, the terrain begins to change. Voices can be heard and the smell of meat hangs heavily over an almost hidden encampment.

"Tourists," breathed the creature, then paused in confusion. It isn't sure where the word has come from or what it means to her. Her. Another concept that is gradually awakening in the creature is the knowledge that she is, in fact, a female. It's all irrelevant right now, though, and she is so hungry.

Still, she senses that it's dangerous to go in unprepared, so she perches her awkward body into a half crouch, and listens.

"I rolled a five," one voice calls into the night, interrupted by its sneering and indignant counterpoint.

"You never. It was a two, I saw it."

There's the brief sounds of a spat before the first one concedes. The meat smell seems to grow heavier and she almost lets out a whimper. She thinks about just taking one, and slipping away in the night. Her body jerks forward without her consent. She needs a way to get in and out, she needs it. There's something about that voice, too, that pulls at her but she can't think because of the smell of the meat.

Her hands find her pockets and she pulls out a matchbox, two pieces of string and a penny. She works quickly, hands-a-twinkle. Something about this, too, is familiar, a working of magic that she remembers in her bones. She holds it up. A make-shift slingshot. She's not quite sure how it's holding together but she thinks it'll do the trick.

She's ready. She lines up for the shot and -- oh. Shit. Something is wrong. Her slingshot falls to pieces around her, two pieces of string, a matchbox and a penny again. The old magic is gone, she cannot macguyver this, and the noise has alerted the encampment.

The owner of the first voice comes out, yelling, with a sword. He's a hotshot and he's shouting, "I'll protect you!" The other man is useless, he's falling over his own shoelace even as it's all happening. The first thrusts his sword through her before she can convince her slow limbs to respond, but as he does so, their eyes meet.

She uses her last breath to force out a question.

"Kidlat?"

Description
It's night. There's no movement in the desert air, nothing to suggest that this night is different from any other, and then it happens. The sand heaves. A moment later, all is still. There is no sign that anything has happened except the presence of a humanoid body that definitely wasn't there before.

It's a few moments before the thing sits up. It does so in a sudden movement, hands raised to protect its face. After a moment, the hands drop to the ground, which it scrabbles its fingers through. Sand pours through the digits while it watches and time passes.

Eventually, the thing tires of watching the endless fall of sand, and rises. It moves with a lurch, like it's forgotten how to walk properly. It's an eerie sight, the staggered jerking of limbs making a mockery of human movement.

It looks to the left, where the edges of a town graze the horizon, but it shakes its head and walks the opposite way. Step by ponderous step, the creature makes its way through the desert and the night. Time holds no meaning for it so when the night ends, it continues to lurch on through the passing of a full day. As the moon rises above, the terrain begins to change. Voices can be heard and the smell of meat hangs heavily over an almost hidden encampment.

"Tourists," breathed the creature, then paused in confusion. It isn't sure where the word has come from or what it means to her. Her. Another concept that is gradually awakening in the creature is the knowledge that she is, in fact, a female. It's all irrelevant right now, though, and she is so hungry.

Still, she senses that it's dangerous to go in unprepared, so she perches her awkward body into a half crouch, and listens.

"I rolled a five," one voice calls into the night, interrupted by its sneering and indignant counterpoint.

"You never. It was a two, I saw it."

There's the brief sounds of a spat before the first one concedes. The meat smell seems to grow heavier and she almost lets out a whimper. She thinks about just taking one, and slipping away in the night. Her body jerks forward without her consent. She needs a way to get in and out, she needs it. There's something about that voice, too, that pulls at her but she can't think because of the smell of the meat.

Her hands find her pockets and she pulls out a matchbox, two pieces of string and a penny. She works quickly, hands-a-twinkle. Something about this, too, is familiar, a working of magic that she remembers in her bones. She holds it up. A make-shift slingshot. She's not quite sure how it's holding together but she thinks it'll do the trick.

She's ready. She lines up for the shot and -- oh. Shit. Something is wrong. Her slingshot falls to pieces around her, two pieces of string, a matchbox and a penny again. The old magic is gone, she cannot macguyver this, and the noise has alerted the encampment.

The owner of the first voice comes out, yelling, with a sword. He's a hotshot and he's shouting, "I'll protect you!" The other man is useless, he's falling over his own shoelace even as it's all happening. The first thrusts his sword through her before she can convince her slow limbs to respond, but as he does so, their eyes meet.

She uses her last breath to force out a question.

"Kidlat?"