Ocean of Anger

1

Pelekri

The sandy desert

The night went on and on.

There was sand under my feet. There was sand on my hands. I was suspecting there was sand in my nose. The stars shone bright and I walked, and I walked, and I walked.

There were rocky deserts near Mangtena. I’d been to a few. But this wasn’t one. There was only flat sand under my feet, and a few dunes off in the distance.

Oh, and there was some salt, or at least I’d heard. We were close to the salt flats around here. So maybe there were deposit patterns in the ground—those would have been interesting enough to look at. But sunrise was hours away and then it would get too hot to walk, and the moons weren’t planning on making an appearance tonight.

So all there was to look at was the sky. And all there was to feel was the pain in my legs.

Vitalities, I’d forgotten how much I disliked walking long-distance.

I could just barely make out Nena’s silhouette against the light of the stars ahead of me. Her two friends were closer to me and a little easier to see. But I didn’t want them there. I didn’t know why she’d bothered to invite them along.

I had wanted Nena there, though. Even if I’d pretended I didn’t.

And now, I could almost see her ice-blue hair glint in the starlight. Or it felt like I could. I knew my eyes weren’t actually that good in the dark.

But I could imagine it so easily.

Her hair would blow in the slight breeze, there’d be a proud smile on her face. Each of her steps would be confident. She wasn’t leaving people behind. And, even if she was, at least they weren’t people who hated her for it. She brought people with her. She always did seem to inspire that.

I kind of hated her.

It didn’t help that she was so far ahead. That meant she was beating me. So, even if my muscles complained, and they did, I started to charge ahead as fast as I could.

She was so far ahead. And each step I took kind of made me want to die.

But I had to get ahead of her.

I still couldn’t see well though. I’d come from a city of reflected moonlight; the stars weren’t bright enough for me. The sky was black. And I’d left the city where all the light was. I’d come from it, but I’d left it. I’d lied to it, I’d lied to the people who loved me, I’d betrayed them, and I’d left it. I’d—

I hit the ground with a sound loud enough to surprise me. I must have tripped, I figured. But I was also thinking of my betrayal.

It hurt more than my bruised skin.

I heard footsteps and words in a language I didn’t know. When I looked up, I saw one of Nena’s friends starting to sign to me. The one with the weird plant name.

I’ve done that, they said.

I sat up with some effort. I was covered in sand. Right, I remember that, I said.

This was the person who’d fallen down some hours back.

I don’t think my fall was as impressive as yours, though, I continued.

Maybe not, they signed back to me. Do you want a hand?

No, I said, squinting my eyes. I didn’t want help. I got up on my own to prove it.

The person I was talking to—maybe I was going to need to bother learning their name—shrugged at me. You know, they said, you seem suspiciously like you might be pushing yourself.

So what? I snapped back in a quick movements.

If you’re trying to walk as fast as you can, don’t just go your fastest and keep going and going. You’ll burn out and collapse. Rest actually helps, they said.

Fuck you, I signed, and I kept on walking forward.

Half an hour later, I was at the back of the group again—way at the back.

I stopped, but not because I wanted to. Not even because of what Nena’s friend said. I stopped because I just couldn’t make myself take another step. I couldn’t.

And ahead of me, Nena and her friends just walked on.

Away.

Away.

Each moment, they were further away. Each moment, it seemed more and more pointless to even try to catch up to them.

There were stars. There was darkness. I wanted to sit down. What reason was there to continue if I couldn’t make to where Nena was?

Every reason, I signed to myself and kept walking forward.

Though I wished they’d held up for me.

I wasn’t sure how I even made it to the hour before dawn.

But I did.

Nena’d told us we might as well make a fire and do some cooking. It’d get hot after the sun rose and all. She’d told us that, like she was the leader or something.

And now, the fire was just showing up in the middle of all of us. There wasn’t anything to burn. This was magic, but not as good as what I could do. Nena was twitching her hand, and her face didn’t seem half as dusty as mine. Her eyes glowed with the light of the flames.

She looked so good. And she walked so fast. So she’d beaten me. Again.

I think, I started in Nagra, we should see who cooks better, you or me.

Nena laughed lightly; her companions gave me somewhat confused looks. Right, I hadn’t actually heard them speaking Nagra yet. Maybe they couldn’t. Another competition? she asked.

Exactly.

Hmm, she said, and the fire went right out.

My night vision wasn’t good, even with the slight glow in the east. It didn’t help that I’d just gotten adapted to the firelight. Uh, I said.

I heard the voices of Nena’s companions speaking in languages I didn’t know. I heard Nena respond. I heard what seemed to be a sound of surprise.

I had no idea what was going on.

Um, can you get the fire back up? I asked in Nagra.

Well, unfortunately, you sort of un-bored me, Nena said.

"Have I ever told you that boredom is, like, probably the single least cool thing you possibly could have made magic out of?" I said.

Shush.

Someone else said something; Nena responded. Or, wait, she said to me in Nagra. Sedge just reminded me that we have alcohol-powered stoves to cook on.

"The light of a fire from under a pot isn’t exactly going to be very much to see by," I complained.

That’s part of the challenge, Nena said.

"It was my challenge to set, I said. Not yours."

Nena just chuckled slightly. I twitched. "You’d think that the actual competing athlete would be the most competitive one here, she said. But it seems that isn’t the case."

Just shut up and fight me over food, I said.

Even with the alcohol stoves, there still wasn’t enough light to sign.

Which sucked.

To politely ask the names of Nena’s companions, I’d want to sign. And I worded things better in that language anyway. But no, apparently I’d un-bored Nena, which meant that we couldn’t have light anymore.

It made me vaguely tempted to try to bore her now, both to get light and throw her off her game. But I was pretty sure that would be cheating.

And I had to focus on my task, anyway. We were making noodles with dried vegetables and meat. Some kind of stew. And mine was going to be better than Nena’s.

Wait, I said suddenly while spicing my pot, who’s going to judge?

Nena took a moment before answering. That’s a good question, she said.

Your people are probably really biased.

Hm, she said, and I heard shifting. Was she reaching for spices too? Which ones? It was impossible to tell in this light. Even to select my own spices, I’d had to test them on my tongue. Well, she continued, I know Sedge well, but I just met Orange.

Oh. Cool. Those were some names. Sedge, Orange, Sedge, Orange. I’d try to remember those. For all the good that’d do me if I couldn’t actually match them to the people in question.

So, Orange is an unbiased person, is what you’re saying.

I think so, Nena said, and then said something in a language I didn’t know. Why did she seem to know everyone else’s languages, anyway? It definitely wasn’t fair.

Someone I assumed to be Orange responded. They were the one with the higher voice; maybe that would help me figure out which name belonged to who later. There were a few more turns of conversation. I threw spices in the water in frustration.

Maybe too many spices.

Vitalities, I hoped not. So I stuck my spoon into the broth and tasted it. And it was spicy, that was for sure—but it wasn’t bad, not by far.

I was starting to think I might be onto something here.

Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one, I said, trying my fucking best to bore Nena. I badly wanted light. I wanted to actually see the face of my judge as they tried my stew.

Nena sighed, and a fire finally lit in between us, where a normal campfire would be if there was any wood at all in this area.

Thank the Vitalities, I signed. Now, I present to you all: Pelekri’s stew, which, I’ll tell you, is a thousand times better than Nena’s stew.

There’s exactly two of us, someone signed. Which meant I couldn’t recognize whether it was the voice from earlier. Which meant I still didn’t know who this was. "That’s a small audience for a ‘you all’."

I squinted and glared them down. Their hair extended in a roughly upwards direction; hopefully I could remember them by that.

Anyway, Nena said, we’ve both made half the amount of stew we need for the entire group, so please take half a bowl of one of ours first, then half a bowl of the other. Her eyes glinted and the fire went out, but only for a second. It reignited quick.

I was starting to realize that working around her feelings for our basic campfire needs was kind of hard.

We were all hungry, so we served ourselves quick. Then Nena turned to one of her companions—the one who didn’t have the upward hair—and signed, Orange, this decision is on you.

So Orange was the small one who looked down a lot. My faith in zher as a judge was already pretty low.

They tasted the stew in their bowl, saying mm. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign; I somehow hadn’t noticed which stew they’d grabbed first. The anticipation already felt like it was going to kill me.

You should eat too, I caught the one that wasn’t Orange—Sedge, then—signing to me.

They did have a point, so I took a sip of my stew. It was just as spicy as when I’d tried it, the broth thick and filled with leafy greens and meat. And noodles. Somewhere in there.

If Orange really liked noodles, I was totally going to be screwed.

Flavors burst in my mouth. Orange nodded slightly, and served themself food from the other pot: mine. Shit. That meant they’d nodded at Nena’s. What did that mean? Was I going to lose?

They took a sip of mine. Their eyes widened. Shit, shit. Was that good or bad?

They nodded again. I didn’t know what that meant either. I didn’t seem to understand anything. My heart was at the edge of my seat. Which isn’t how the expression goes, but whatever.

I watched them. I was breathing heavily, almost entirely forgetting about eating my own food.

They scooped noodles, vegetables, and meat into their mouth. They took another sip. I hesitantly took one of my own. I watched