Young Writers Society

As the days passed, it seemed to Asha that they were walking up a gradual incline. She said so to Yuni.

“You are right,” Yuni said.

With each passing hour, the incline seemed to grow steeper and a burning sensation began to make itself known in Asha’s calves. It was barely sundown, but Asha was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from her hairline and blurring her vision. Her lips were dry, the water skins having run out earlier that day. She licked the ragged skin, tasting sweat. It was so much hotter than Merdon, and the fact that summer was coming swiftly upon them did not help matters.

“I think it is time we stopped for the night,” Yuni said, her voice even. It was like the day’s exertions never even affected her.

Though Yuni never seemed to be touched by the rigors of daily travel, she had changed a lot since Asha had first met her. Skin that was once near translucent had darkened considerably in the weeks under the sun, and long, once silky hair, knotted together and formed into ropes of tangles. Asha’s own hair had not escaped Yuni’s hair’s fate. If anything, Asha’s was worse off. She could only dream of the day when they would finally reach Yamuko and she would be able to wash the dirt and sweat from her scalp and comb the matts and tangles from her hair.

Asha flopped down where she was, her back having grown impervious to the uneven ground. Pushing herself up with one arm, she wiped dirt from her eyes with the other. “We need water,” Asha murmured.

Yuni dropped the bag unceremoniously and sat beside her. “We do.”

Those words hung in the air for a moment before dissipating. “I can make it rain,” Asha stated.

“When will you?” Yuni asked. It was a bold question, but her voice was anything but.

“I won’t,” Asha said, gnawing on her bottom lip. She looked at the skirt of her dress, hem ripped and ragged, gray, instead of black, from the dirt. She absently picked at a hangnail, rolling an idea around in her head, and then around with her tongue before she spoke. “I’m going to gather the dew tomorrow morning. It’ll take less energy.”

What she didn’t say was that she had never tried something like that before. Moving water was difficult. To make it rain, you had to herd the clouds until they became too heavy to hold the water inside them. Moving individual droplets was much different.

She did not mention this to Yuni. Better to not give her a seed of doubt now. For once, Asha was able to enjoy someone’s wholehearted trust in her. It was a marked change from the mantra everyone whispered to her during her training: you can’t; you can’t; you can’t.

She sat beside Yuni as the sun went down, staring at the tangerine sky and pink smears of cloud, like a giant artist took up a brush and painted them with long, sweeping strokes, but Asha didn’t really see the sky. Her eyes were open, but they were closed to the outside world. She was locked in the confines of her own head, running through over and over how to gather the dew. How to funnel it into the water skins.

It was hours before the sounds of the crickets reached her ears. Her hands and face were numb, but she still shivered. Finally truly open, Asha’s eyes gazed out into an expanse of darkness. Unconsciously, she gathered the blanket draped around her shoulders closer. Yuni must have done that.

She whispered her thanks into the night.

Not quite ready to sleep, Asha looked up at the sky. A tiny sliver of moon shone in the sky, a sea of glittering diamonds the backdrop to a world as black as ink. A gust of wind skittered across the tops of the grasses, all breathing, hush, in unison.

Yuni shifted in her sleep. Exhaling softly, Asha curled up on the ground, gathering the blanket closer around her chin and laying her head on an arm.

As usual, Asha found herself being shaken awake by Yuni. Nearly moonless night had given way to misty gray morning. Standing up with a groan, she stretched her arms up, wincing as several places in her back popped. “I’m looking forward to actual beds when we get to Yamuko,” Asha muttered to herself.

Yuni smiled agreeably. “There is much luxury to look forward to, but what I am looking forward to, most of all, is cutting these knots out of my hair.”

Asha paused. “Cut your hair? Your long, beautiful hair?” she asked, appalled.

“There is not much to be done for it now, I am afraid,” Yuni replied, holding up one of the matted tendrils.

“I will save it,” Asha said. “Don’t cut it before I try to do something for it.”

“If you insist.” There was a long pause. Crickets chirped. “Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?” Asha asked.

“Gather the water,” Yuni said matter-of-factly.

“I suppose I should get started on that,” Asha mused. Sitting down, she propped her chin up with a hand. “Let me think a moment.”

“What do you have to think about?” Yuni asked.

“I haven’t done something like this before,” Asha muttered. “I need to figure something out.”

“You have no-”

“Quiet!” Asha hissed, eyes blinking closed. She breathed in.

Out.

In. On this breath, Asha siphoned the energy from the grass around her, simultaneously filling her lungs with breath and the place beneath her heart with energy. She didn’t breathe. Visualizing the pull of the water toward her before allowing the energy to flow out, she stilled her body. It seemed the only motions it made was her heart pumping, blood flowing like rivers through her veins.

When it seemed her lungs would burst, she breathed out, expelling the energy with her breath. Reaching out with her mind, she found the dew. Her hands trembled in her lap as she pulled thousands of tiny droplets toward her.

The waterskin. She forgot the waterskin!

Clenching her jaw, she condensed the droplets into a ball of water. “Get the waterskin!” Asha commanded, voice soft as if speaking too loudly would shatter the magic. She opened her eyes. A small orb of clear water hovered before her eyes. Flicking her eyes to the side, she saw Yuni, holding the container open, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

A pit of worry began to eat away at the insides of her stomach, but she disregarded it, pushing the feeling to the back of her head. “Ready?” she asked shakily.

“Yes,” Yuni answered clearly.

Unconsciously, Asha began to move her hands as she fed the water into the container as if she were guiding it with the fingertips. Water snaked from the orb into the mouth of the waterskin. Slowly, the orb began to shrink, reminiscent of a ball of yarn unraveling.

A smile slid its way onto Asha’s face as she fed the last of the water into the waterskin.

“Incredible,” Yuni said, closing the container.

Pride tickled her insides, but Asha refused to allow it to show on her face. “It was nothing,” she said as she stood up.

“It was still amazing to see,” Yuni pressed. “I could never do something so wonderful.”

Silently, Asha disagreed, but she said nothing. There was no time to argue. “We need to get a move on.”

“But we have not yet eaten breakfast,” Yuni argued.

“We can eat later.” Asha picked up her cloak, fastening it around her shoulders though she knew that before noon it would grow too hot to keep on. “Right now, we should cover as much ground as possible.”

“If you insist,” Yuni said. Swiftly, she packed everything in their one bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“It’s just getting too hot to be traveling when the sun is at its peak. We really should start getting our sleep during the day and walking at night.” Yuni didn’t reply, only looking ahead to the path that they were to take. “Let’s go,” Asha said to herself more than to Yuni.