Making his way across the alkali flats, Khasra stopped on top of the outcropping of rocks to gain a better vantage point to view the terrain.
"What do you see?" the caravan master called up to him.
A flash of irritation showed on Khasra's face briefly. "The desert, like always." Looking up at the sky he noted the pattern of the wind as it blew across the sand-scoured feature-less plain.
"Dust storm is coming. We should make camp soon." The leader seemed about to open his big mouth to question Khasra, but then decided against it. The last time he got a sore jaw for a week when he insinuated that the ranger was amiss in his assessment. They ignored his warning and paid the price when water ran out. Some perished, but they listened well after that.
"City dwellers and merchants. Useless lot. All they know is the trappings of being away from the elements, the cold, the heat, and the hunger. They don't care as long as someone else makes their life easier. But not me. The desert is my fortress of solitude, of peace. It calls me, and I must answer, for it is the way of things. That and honor. I will find what I seek if it kills me, and none shall stand in my way. I am resolute, for the desert is my master, my teacher even. As for mother, I shall find out why she left Kelmarane. That and what happened to my father."
He looked at the letter once more. Yes, he would find out why his mother ran away from there. He would know one way or the other, and soon.
Life was hard in the desert. Even the water had to be coaxed from its hiding places. It was only because he knew how to find such locations that made him so valued in the caravans he joined with. Water was the most important, followed by food. As the desert was unforgiving one had to plan carefully, otherwise death would come. Quickly if you were lucky, slowly if you were parched with thirst. No, the desert was alive, though not everyone realized that.
Mother lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Dust storms were common in the area, which led to people going missing at random times. Oddly enough, the desert wasn't frightening to him. From as far as he can remember the desert was calming to him. He spent time exploring the wastelands when he was old enough to head out on his own. Mother tried to dissuade him from going out as he did but to no avail. She said she didn't want to lose another relative to death. Fortunately, that was not the case.
As the years passed, he continued to mature, both physically and mentally. During this time, he became aware of a dark cloud as it were that stayed over his mother. She was often distant to him, even when he was in the middle of talking with her. Something bothered her, but she never revealed to him what it was. This caused him great concern as he loved his mother very much. He would do anything for her, but was unable to help her to be truly happy. This pattern would continue till the day she died.
It was when he had returned from his weekly wandering in the desert that he discovered some townsfolk gathered at his home on the outskirts. Mother was dead. The only thing he could think of was that she lost the will to live. Like she just layed down and died. He sold the house, but not before going through her last possessions to determine what he should keep. In a small locked box he found a letter and some studded leather armor. Upon reading the letter, he discovered it talked of Khasra's father in Kalmarane and how much his mother loved her husband. It also alluded to some event that caused him to want to leave and travel far away from there. Something else was there, a certificate of death.
He died there. What caused this? Why did she never speak of him?" So many questions, so few answers. It was hard to make the decision, but he finally came to it. He would go, and he would discover why things happened the way they did. He would find out who his father really was, no matter how long it took.
