Deep in the deserts of Harena Wastelands, where everything was dry and hot, was a creature that did not belong in such a hostile climate. Everything shriveled and shrank under the oppressive dry air given time. Water was such a precious commodity that it was not so easily spared to the women slotted to be sold. Yet, due to this one creature’s unique connection with the soothing liquid, it was kept well out of her reach, kept out of sight. It kept her weak, and, they hoped, complacent enough to pawn her off to be someone else’s concern while they walk away with heavy pockets.

Jalaya Uisnech was yanked to her feet and pulled out of a wagon. She tried to block her eyes from the glaring sun, only to stumble to her feet as they yanked on the rope on her wrists. “Get up, bitch,” the slavemaster growled, yanking on her already choppy hair. The poor girl could not even muster the strength to whimper or yelp at the sudden pain on her scalp. It was all she could do to shuffle her feet forward as they led her somewhere. Her oceanic eyes gazed around the sandstone and clay buildings of the society that claimed this corner of the world.

There were many who kept their eyes cast down, bound in some way as they toiled away. All of them looked weary, broken as they were cruelly commanded to their next assignment. Jalaya knew freedom, and captivity. Now, she was learning slavery. Ahead of her was a large area where the mingling crowds were a strange mix. On one side, people seemed to be bidding on freshly branded slaves. There was a massive fenced area where many waited to be sold. The opposite side, however, held something that glowed with the intensity of the sun. A man had many long sticks resting in the miniature sun, removing one every so often to press the flat end into the exposed flesh of a poor soul. Underneath the screaming, yelling and sobbing, however, was a sound so peaceful, one would miss it in the cacophony. She was entranced by it, invigorated once more to renew her efforts to regain freedom.

Near the blacksmith was a large barrel of water, allowing him to use it in his craft, to put out fires, and to consume when he began to thirst. She gave her captor a sidelong look. Either he had forgotten or he had not noticed the error of his ways. Jalaya reached for the water and called it to her, thin tendrils whipping at many in its path. "Crap! Stop her!" But it was too late. Her captor was holding his nose, having been snapped in the face by the water whip, his dagger now in her hands. The water created a wall around her, forming octopus tentacles at its base to keep everyone at bay while she cut the ropes that bound her. Without dropping the water, Jalaya ran through it, soaking herself in its sweet hydration while distracting those trying to prevent her escape.

The commotion she caused encouraged several others to begin a riot around her as she darted and weaved through the crowd. Yet, the bastard was on her tail, his screams and commands falling on deaf ears as she rounded a corner, hoping to find someplace to hide for some time until things can quiet down enough for her to slip into a caravan out of town. What she didn't expect was to find her nose suddenly pressed into the clothing of someone, their hands suddenly around her arms to steady her. Jalaya lifted her oceanic eyes to gaze up at him. Will he release her? Or will he give her back to them, to be sold into a life she was not born to live? "Help me, please…?"

The desert sun was merciless. Its brightness was blinding, while the heat and lack of clouds caused sweat to drip from Camthorn’s brow. Even his stallion’s black coat was dirtied with sweat clumps and sand. While the rider had a sash wrapped around his shoulder, head and mouth to keep the sun off of his skin, his horse didn’t have the same protection. His fur was like fire whenever Camthorn would pat his neck. Black absorbed heat like a sponge under the sun. And it didn’t help that the horse was carrying not only a rider, but his belongings and a heavy saddle. Camthorn leaned forward and patted the stallion’s neck, listening to his loud and swift breathing. “There’s a town up ahead. We can rest there,” he told the steed with a soft smile. Sitting up, his eyes squinted from the sunlight and he looked ahead. He was about to enter a bustling town. He could already feel cool water on his throat and washing over his body, washing away the sweat and dirt. “Try not to scare anyone,” he said with a playful smile as he looked down at the drooling and panting dog padding next to the stallion. Kronos seemed to have no care in the world that they were in a ruthless desert. His dark eyes were still wide with glee as he trotted along, his rolling tongue hanging out of his jaws.

As they neared the entrance to the town, the horse was commanded to halt. His hoof stomped on the ground one last time with a loud huff. Camthorn dismounted and pulled the reins over the horse’s head. He led the stallion into the town, Kronos padding happily by his boots. Crowds were filling the streets, making it difficult for him and his animal companions to get through, much less buy the things he needed. Persistence and patience was key, though. Eventually he managed to buy some food from a small shop, and fill his canteen with water. The last thing he did was find a trough for his horse and dog to drink from.

They were gorging themselves while Camthorn arranged his things in the saddlebags. They had enough food to last a few more days, enough to reach the next town. But water would be tougher in this merciless desert. Perhaps he should buy an extra canteen or two. He sighed and wiped sweat from his brow as he turned around. Just then, a woman came bursting out of the crowd and collided into him. The shock of her sudden arrival nearly caused him to stumble back. His hands went to her shoulders without hesitation to steady her as he looked down, blinking. Her aquatic pools locked with his golden brown eyes, pleading. Her skin was dry, her lips cracking from lack of water. She was clearly dehydrated.

“What’s the matter?” He asked with concern. How could someone be starved of water in a bustling town where there was plenty to go around? Why was she asking for help, appearing distressed? Why was she running? Only one clear answer came to him, and his brows furrowed, eyes hardening seriously. “Are you alright? Has someone hurt you?” He asked.

What's the matter? Her very existence was at stake! Had they hurt her? Does keeping her from water count? "They want to kiss my skin with a rod bathed in the child of the sun! They mean to mark me! Please…" Jalaya jumped when she heard the men catch up behind her.

"There you are! You there! Release that which is mine!" He demanded. She shook her head, half moving to dart behind the stranger as he was already pulling her in that direction. Despite her fear of returning to their control, Jalaya poked her head around him, holding onto his belt for stability. "Be a good girl and come here. Now!"

Jalaya tightened her grip on the stranger, already feeling safer with him than she had felt in a long time. "Fishnapper!" Her aquatic orbs lifted up to plead with her possible savior. "He lifts his hand against me, took a dagger to my hair. I just desire my return home."

He made a quizzical face at hearing her response. Kiss her skin with a rod bathed in the child of the sun? What does that even mean??? Although he didn’t know what child of the sun meant, he understood rod against the skin, and the phrase “mark”. It made no sense, but it was enough to give him a loose idea. It sounded like someone was going to scar her skin, most likely branding. Either way, it wasn’t a pleasant thought. And she was obviously distressed. She then jumped as the voices of men sounded up ahead, behind her. There was his proof. Someone was after her. A group of men, chasing after a single young woman? It gave him an angering suspicion.

Without hesitation he pulled her behind him and met the men with a stern face. He kept his arm in front of her protectively, while his other rested “nonchalantly” upon the hilt of his hip sword. He was ready for a fight. Although there were many and only one of him, they were in a busy area. Escaping wouldn’t be too difficult. Especially when he had a horse to ride, and a massive dog that would be more than happy to knock them down and keep them there.

“What is yours?” He repeated firmly. The girl strengthened her grip on him from behind as the man told her to return to them. She refused to go, looking to Camthorn for help. He’d already seen the terrible shape she’s in; he had no doubt she was being mistreated. He couldn’t just give her back. He wouldn’t. In response to the other man labeling Camthorn as a “fishnapper”…whatever that meant, she countered by offering vague details as to what had been done to her.

“Why in my right mind would I let you have her?” He said to the man. “This young lady appears to have been severely mistreated. I am not one to stand idly by, or turn away, while a group of men are having their way with a woman,” his eyes hardened like daggers, able to slice the men apart if they could. “And the fact that you have claimed her as your property only makes me want to slice your throats. No woman belongs to any man. She deserves freedom in body and choice.”

The man she had bumped into did not hesitate to hold out his arm protectively, putting a barrier of some form between herself and the fishnappers. She feared that he would give in to the business side of things, to force her back to them when they explain things. But the stranger saw the dangerously drying skin, the painfully cracked lips. It hurt to bend her fingers. Her oceanic eyes gazed up at him with relief at his bold words.

“Mistreated? You know how often she used that water to attack us? How much damage she’s caused? The money we earn from that bitch in the auction will barely cover our expenses at this rate. Freedom in body and choice? That’s up to her next slave owner.” She held her breath, waiting to see what her protector would do. While she didn’t know what she was expecting, it wasn’t for him to buy her instead. The men scoffed as the one caught the small coin bag, weighing it experimentally. “Do you really think this enough to sway our minds?”

One of the men behind him whispered in his ear, a scowl appearing on the leader’s face momentarily. “Fine! You want her so badly, you can have her. I’ll warn you now, keep her away from water. It’ll be your death.” Laughing, the men turned and disappeared. Jalaya straightened and watched them walk away with confusion. What had happened? ”Water is life.” She looked up at her protector, an almost defiant yet hopeful glint in her eyes. ”Do you mean it? Freedom in choice?”

Their way of thinking was twisted. Camthorn could see that she’d been kidnapped. It’s why she was running from them, seeking help. Why she appeared to have been in such terrible condition. They surely kept her bound, denying her proper nourishments to remain healthy. Why keep her in peak condition when they could sap her strength? Make her incapable of fighting back? And yet, they blame her for using water to attack them and destroy their things. Did they honestly expect a young girl to do nothing after being taken by force? She didn’t know what they’d do to her—kill her, force themselves on her, or what her new “owner” would do once she’s bought. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have taken her,” he scoffed. But as much as he hated hearing their point of view, they did bring an idea to mind.

He slowly took his hand off his sword and reached to the back of his belt. From the inside of a pouch he took out a small bag full of coin. “An auction you say,” he tossed the coins to one of the men. “Then I would like to buy her from you. Now. You’ll be selling her anyway.” Mocked him, but his unfazed face told them exactly how serious he was. In response, he said with a shrug, “I have much more. That is my starting bid.” He was prepared to give them every coin he had. His parents were wealthy nobles—he knew how to make money. He didn’t look the part with his commoner wear, but he had more than enough money to offer them.

However, one of the men spoke to their leader. He didn’t appear pleased by what he was told, for he wore and ugly face of disapproval. But to Camthorn’s surprise they didn’t accept his offer of more coin. They simply “warned” him, and they laughed—laughed as if they expected him to be attacked by her and her water like they were, as if she had any reason to. He watched them walk away with squinted eyes. It made him uncomfortable knowing men like them were running around, taking innocent girls from their homes and selling them for petty cash. And yet, in his current position, Camthorn hadn’t enough power to shut down that kind of business.

He turned to the girl with a soft blink. “Of course. I meant every word,” he answered. Briefly he reached for his saddlebag and dug out a canteen. “People are not houses, they are not jewelry, not any inanimate object that can be bought and sold.” He took her hand in his and looked down at the damage that’d been done to her, his thumb running over the thin, bony, pale phalanges. “People have feelings, wishes, and thoughts. The life of a person cannot be bought. No amount of riches can make up for how much a life is worth, because they are priceless.” His eyes flicked to hers. Camthorn released her hand and offered her the canteen with a small smile. “It is your life. What you wish to do with it is your choice, and no one else’s. No person, no thing can take that freedom from you. I only offered them money to satisfy their greediness so they would let you go. Young miss, you are free. Go wherever you please. There is no one holding you back now.”

Large eyes watched him as he reached around her, his hand disappearing in the bag on the back of the land horse. She listened as he spoke, questioning his speech, quizzically gazing at him as she wondered what each unfamiliar word meant. House sounded like home, which meant personal shelter. Jewelry was harder to place, not having anything similar to it. Inanimate objects? That was even more alien. But apparently each of the words was something that could be traded. Her protector took a hand, his skin seemed dry and rough, but held a certain sense of gentleness within them as he touched tender skin.

Feelings… wishes… thoughts… the words eluded her as he spoke, the elemental drinking in every sound. The world he believed in sounded pure and beautiful. Absently, she took the offered canteen, just gazing up at him with the stunned realization that he was serious. He had purchased her from those men merely to set her free? Tears would have welled up in her eyes if she had the excess moisture to spare. Jalaya carefully walked around him to peer around the horse and down the street to see the vast desert sprawling just outside the town. "No one, perhaps. However, that dry ocean is cruel and I don't have any knowledge of this land." She turned back to him and gazed up at her protector, clutching the canteen to her chest. "As soon as I am plucked from sea, I become lost."

It was then that she realized that the canteen was even in her hands. She held it before her as she examined the rather plain looking thing, shaking it experimentally. Something within sloshed promisingly. Jalaya tried to pry the cap off. When nothing happened, she frowned and poked down on it with no results. "Um… How does one get to the contents within? I do not understand the contraption." It was one of the few words she had picked up a few years ago from a sailor, the first realization for Jalaya that the surface dwellers had a vastly expanded vocabulary than herself.

His eyes followed the path of her own. In the distance, beyond the crowds and shops, the harsh desert stretched into the horizon. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was brought from a foreign land. If she was from the sea then she’s far from home. She was free, but she had no way of knowing how to return to her rightful place. How could she escape the desert and its heat? And if she managed to find the sea, how would she know it was the right one? That’s if her words were taken literally. Only someone who’s never left their home would become lost once they step outside of it. She likely wouldn’t be able to find it on her own.

“I see,” he said simply. From the sea. That must’ve been what fishnapper meant. Was she a mermaid perhaps? Or something else? Either way, she didn’t know her way around this strange land. But he did. “Perhaps I can help with that,” he suggested, glancing back at his stallion. “My horse is more than capable of carrying the weight of two. I am skilled with the sword, and Kronos here,” he patted the dog’s head as it sat beside him, its long tongue rolling out and dripping slobber. “He is swift on his paws and has frightened grown, armed men.” He looked back at the woman with a sweet smile, “You would be in capable hands. Should any more ruffians attempt to harm you, you can be assured that none shall get by Kronos and I.”His eyes fell towards her hands, fumbling to open the canteen. He lifted a brow. Had she never seen a canteen before? Did she even know what one was? “Allow me,” he took the canteen and twisted the cap until it came off. He handed it back to her, “It contains water. You appear as though you’ve been neglected hydration.” He glanced over her thin figure, taking notice of her visible bones. She must be starving. Looking about the area, he searched for a place where he could get her some food. He spotted a fruit stand nearby. That should last them until they manage to find an inn to rest and fill their stomachs at. “Come,” he took her hand in his own and slowly guided her through the crowded street until they arrived at the stand. “Welcome!” Greeted the stand owner. His skin was dark, head wrapped in a sash to protect his head from the blistering sun. “How may I help you?”“We need something to last us across the desert,” Camthorn replied.

The stand owner nodded with a knowing look and started picking through his stand. “Shall I fill you a sack of ‘em?” He asked. Camthorn nodded, “Yes. Enough for the lady and I.” The man smiled and began filling a small sack with various fruits. Figs, apricots, mulberries, apples. When it was filled, he tied the top and handed the sack to Camthorn. With a word of thanks, the man was paid, Camthorn took the sack and turned to Jalaya. He opened it and pulled out a fig, “Try this.”

Oceanic eyes gazed up at the stranger with hope as he suggested he could help. The “horse”, which honestly looked nothing like the horses she knew, was apparently strong and the creature on the other side of him was a swift “Kronos”. Whatever a Kronos is, it truly did look as frightening as he suggested. But she was interested in opening the containment object for the liquid inside. He took it gently from her hands and she watched as he simply twisted the top off. Jalaya was genuinely shocked as she took the canteen back. With the mention of water, Jalaya could not drink it fast enough.

The water was refreshing, soothing her parched throat, and cooled her. Suddenly, her hand was grabbed and he guided her through the streets before she was done with the drink he had provided. Jalaya gazed upon the new stranger that her protector spoke to before turning her sights upon the myriad of colors before her. She could not name all the colors, some being new altogether. Fuzzy round fruits, shiny reds, even bumpy long dark small things were packed into a sack. He handed her a purple thing about the size of his palm.

Curious, Jalaya took it from his hand and tentatively sniffed at it, which caused the stand owner to chuckle at her softly before turning to his next customer. She bit into the fruit, an explosion of flavor hit her tongue as liquid gushed into her mouth. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. So delightful. ”What is it?” she managed to ask before taking another bite and then offering the fruit to him. His cheeks began to glow as he hesitated before accepting it. ”It’s delicious, you have my appreciation.” Even with the water and fruit, however, she still felt dry… and hungry. As she licked her hand of the excess juices, she overheard him ask for the nearest inn. ”What’s an inn?”