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It's camel lady! She does stuff and meets a person and stuff happens, but nothing's actually completed nor answered.
Table of Contents | Part 2 --->
ETA: Oh no! I was testing something and now it's borked! Shit! Anyhow, I had the foresight to do this AFTER submitting it here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13185532/
Copy-pasted it here:
Isra followed the ancient scent of frankincense. She had smelled it throughout the day, just barely there under the sun-cooked dunes, but once night had settled and the evening winds passed, Isra found the scent lain out like a trail across the endless desert.
She followed, steps slow and even, up the crests and down into troughs. Isra hadn't encountered frankincense since she was a child in the herd, when her great-great-grandmother would pull out a small satchel and tell her all about the caravans and travelers they'd guide across the desert. Silly people meant for forests and rivers, who could only eat a few things and carried multiple skins of water just to survive the trip. The camel people valued the news and tales they brought with them over the textiles and trinkets.
One such traveler particularly smitten had given Isra's grandmother the frankincense. The tiny resin rocks looked like gold or honey, and were worth as much as both combined. She enjoyed to talk about that man, but Isra preferred the stories of cities and empires that had produced and procured these treasures that her grandmother had heard from her grandmother.
The travelers and empires were long gone, though, and without the stories they brought with them, Isra had set out on her own to see what lay beyond the horizon.
She had found many things within the sand, but never such a nostalgic feeling. The smell became overwhelmingly pungent, and as Isra stepped atop a dune, she saw, nestled in the valley between two dunes, a plant.
Plants were not unheard of, even this far away from anything, but they were all low, scruffy, and tough. This one was tall and far-spreading. Small clusters of leaves dappled with tiny flowers shivered in the breezes. And it was bleeding from every branch, sap silvery in the moonlight.
Isra slid down into the trough with it and approached cautiously. The tree stood almost at her height, and she reached out a hand to touch a branch as though that would break the illusion. She just got sap in her fur.
The flowers were all but odorless, but the sap was heavy with the scent. Isra looked down through the sprawling branches. Though they were wide, they were sparse, like a spider's web. Something was twisted up in the roots. Isra hunched down and crawled under the tree to get a better look. She could feel the branches scratching at her hump, catching the cords slung across it, lightly jingling the bells.
She tugged, feeling the cool slickness of metal, then wrenched it free of the tree. It came loose with a crack of breaking wood.
A leather thong was attached to one side, stretching down into the sandy roots. Isra pulled, but unlike the tube, the thong was not so easy to free. It was long enough to give her room to sit down against the tree, however.
Isra sat back on her heels to regard the tube in the moonlight. Sap coated it, and sand coated the sap as it did all things. Exposed parts were delicately filigreed with curling vines and abstract shapes, intricate details highlighted by gems or the holes where gems should be. She twisted open the cap and shook out a scroll.
Isra covered her sticky hand in a fold of robe before unrolling the scroll. It looked almost blank in the weak light, but she could make out faint markings and designs littering the soft hide. She'd have to wait until day to get a better look.
After a few more moments contemplation, she rolled the scroll back into its container. Isra stood and pulled harder, bracing her wide foot against the base of the tree. The thong stretched, but wouldn't break. She relaxed and contemplated chewing it free. It'd be easy enough, and something to chew as she walked.
Isra instead followed the strap down into the roots, feeling around in the dark with her hand. She wasn't afraid of scorpions or biting lizards, as most couldn't even pierce her tough skin. Instead of those, though, she felt soft, cool flesh against the pads of her fingers.
At times like these, Isra wished for a lamp. Rarely could she not wait until day, but this was not how tree nor sand were supposed to feel. She pulled her hand out and flexed her three, thick fingers. She couldn't shake that sensation, like touching silk.
Isra knelt in close, prying at the roots. They broke and bent easily, exposing a pale silvery hand, five fingers tipped in short, rounded nails. It looked glass-like and fragile.
Her fingers wrapped around the cold wrist. The very air seemed to still, whistling winds and skittering sands silent. A faint pulse, slow, easy to miss. Isra wasn't sure how, but this person was still alive, tangled in the roots.
She dug. The roots broke easily, brittle despite the living tree, and perfumed the air with nauseatingly heavy frankincense. Isra felt panic, as though as soon as the person had been found a countdown had begun, but realistically knew that if they had been under the tree long enough for it to envelope them, a few hours more couldn't hurt. Illogical as that entire concept was, she had heard of stranger things in the far distant world. Perhaps the strangeness just took time to cross a desert.
Isra had found the person's face, just below the hand. A woman, she guessed, curled in the roots. She was silvery and furless, A cloth cap flopped over her head and shallow breath moved the fur of Isra's hand.
It took Isra almost the full night to dig the hole deep enough to free her, but she certainly wasn't going to abandon the woman. Even leaving to find help all but assured this place would be lost forever.
Covered with sap and panting breathlessly, Isra scrambled backwards, dragging her over crumbling sand as it filled the hole again. The desert all but ate any evidence of digging while Isra carefully positioned the woman. She untied the scroll tube's cord from her wrist, revealing dark bruising, but otherwise no injuries Isra could find.
Altogether she was a strange one -- and not just because of the tree. She was no animal Isra recognized: earless, noseless, with a strange tendril sprouting on her head and matching her tail. Isra resisted only a moment before flicking the tendril lightly. It drifted to the other side of her face, the filament webbed at its tip glistening in the moonlight.
After trickling some water into the woman's mouth, Isra sat back and waited. The moon reached its zenith, sank slowly toward the horizon, disappeared behind the far-distant dunes.
Isra waited.
The woman sat up, startling her from a light doze. Wide, wet black eyes flicked around. Isra watched, silent and unmoving. Though she seemed to have gone from sleep to wakefulness almost instantly, she still seemed confused. Finally those large eyes fell on Isra.
"Where am I?" Her voice was rough, low and abrupt, completely at odds with her appearance.
"The desert."
The woman was silent a moment, then. "Does this desert have a name?"
Isra nodded. "I'm sure it does, though I don't know it."
"And you?"
"I am Isra."
The woman tried to stand, and Isra was quick to catch her when she stumbled on the shifting sands.
"Careful now," Isra murmured. "You've only just awoken."
Thin, long fingers rose to press against the woman's head. "I, I did, didn't I? What happened?"
"I cannot say. You were bound up in the roots of that tree --" she gestured toward it, only to find it a withered husk being battered by the morning winds. "It seems to have died."
The woman pushed away from Isra to the tree, touched its dusty trunk gingerly. She spoke to it, though Isra couldn't hear the words. Then her gaze fell on the bruise around her wrist, dropping next to the dune beneath their feet.
Isra held out the scroll tube. The woman snatched it from her hands and nearly toppled again. She fell into the tree which shuddered. A few, final dry leaves fell off.
"Can I help in any way?" Isra asked, reaching toward her. The woman was already pulling out the scroll and unrolling it. What she saw seemed to disappoint, however, as she slumped against the tree and tilted her head back.
"It's ruined."
"It's still legible," Isra tried. "Somewhat."
"You read it?"
"Though I don't know the language, I could make out some symbols."
"Good good -- it must have been so long ago." The woman trailed off. "I'm an Emissary of the Global Consciousness."
Isra blinked her large, dark eyes. That sounded impressive, but really meant nothing to her.
"May I call you Emissary?"
The woman was apparently expecting a different reaction, but she eventually nodded. "That's acceptable. I was delivering a message."
Isra politely refrained from looking around at the empty desert."To whom?"
"The ruler of a nation that -- that should be here. Had been here."
"There hasn't been a nation here, at least not one with a ruler, for longer than I've been alive. Perhaps you are lost?"
The Emissary looked around again, then flicked her large tail, also webbed with filament, up to her face. It glowed as she tapped at the webbing. "I'll need a well," she said, then pointed. "There's one that way." With nary another word she packed the scroll and scrambled up the dune.
Isra followed after. Though she seemed unbothered by the heat of day, Isra had no clue how well the Emissary would actually fair. Despite the woman's lighter build, Isra was made to scale dunes and caught up to her quickly.
"You can't rush," she said as the Emissary stumbled, caught herself, and tried again. "Your feet are so tiny, they'll just sink in."
"Then I won't walk," she said, and pushed off the ground. Though she dipped a bit and wobbled, eventually she was stable enough to drift up the dune, a few inches above the sand.
Isra bit her tongue on any questions she had, and silently plodded along as the woman floated down the other side. Her flying was a bit awkward and ungainly, but it did go faster than trying to fight the sands. The Emissary didn't seem opposed to her following, so Isra would do so until either told to leave or given answers.
If she was looking for a well in the middle of the desert, there was time aplenty for Isra to get those answers. And she was nothing if not patient.
Table of Contents | Part 2 --->
ETA: Oh no! I was testing something and now it's borked! Shit! Anyhow, I had the foresight to do this AFTER submitting it here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13185532/
Copy-pasted it here:
Isra followed the ancient scent of frankincense. She had smelled it throughout the day, just barely there under the sun-cooked dunes, but once night had settled and the evening winds passed, Isra found the scent lain out like a trail across the endless desert.
She followed, steps slow and even, up the crests and down into troughs. Isra hadn't encountered frankincense since she was a child in the herd, when her great-great-grandmother would pull out a small satchel and tell her all about the caravans and travelers they'd guide across the desert. Silly people meant for forests and rivers, who could only eat a few things and carried multiple skins of water just to survive the trip. The camel people valued the news and tales they brought with them over the textiles and trinkets.
One such traveler particularly smitten had given Isra's grandmother the frankincense. The tiny resin rocks looked like gold or honey, and were worth as much as both combined. She enjoyed to talk about that man, but Isra preferred the stories of cities and empires that had produced and procured these treasures that her grandmother had heard from her grandmother.
The travelers and empires were long gone, though, and without the stories they brought with them, Isra had set out on her own to see what lay beyond the horizon.
She had found many things within the sand, but never such a nostalgic feeling. The smell became overwhelmingly pungent, and as Isra stepped atop a dune, she saw, nestled in the valley between two dunes, a plant.
Plants were not unheard of, even this far away from anything, but they were all low, scruffy, and tough. This one was tall and far-spreading. Small clusters of leaves dappled with tiny flowers shivered in the breezes. And it was bleeding from every branch, sap silvery in the moonlight.
Isra slid down into the trough with it and approached cautiously. The tree stood almost at her height, and she reached out a hand to touch a branch as though that would break the illusion. She just got sap in her fur.
The flowers were all but odorless, but the sap was heavy with the scent. Isra looked down through the sprawling branches. Though they were wide, they were sparse, like a spider's web. Something was twisted up in the roots. Isra hunched down and crawled under the tree to get a better look. She could feel the branches scratching at her hump, catching the cords slung across it, lightly jingling the bells.
She tugged, feeling the cool slickness of metal, then wrenched it free of the tree. It came loose with a crack of breaking wood.
A leather thong was attached to one side, stretching down into the sandy roots. Isra pulled, but unlike the tube, the thong was not so easy to free. It was long enough to give her room to sit down against the tree, however.
Isra sat back on her heels to regard the tube in the moonlight. Sap coated it, and sand coated the sap as it did all things. Exposed parts were delicately filigreed with curling vines and abstract shapes, intricate details highlighted by gems or the holes where gems should be. She twisted open the cap and shook out a scroll.
Isra covered her sticky hand in a fold of robe before unrolling the scroll. It looked almost blank in the weak light, but she could make out faint markings and designs littering the soft hide. She'd have to wait until day to get a better look.
After a few more moments contemplation, she rolled the scroll back into its container. Isra stood and pulled harder, bracing her wide foot against the base of the tree. The thong stretched, but wouldn't break. She relaxed and contemplated chewing it free. It'd be easy enough, and something to chew as she walked.
Isra instead followed the strap down into the roots, feeling around in the dark with her hand. She wasn't afraid of scorpions or biting lizards, as most couldn't even pierce her tough skin. Instead of those, though, she felt soft, cool flesh against the pads of her fingers.
At times like these, Isra wished for a lamp. Rarely could she not wait until day, but this was not how tree nor sand were supposed to feel. She pulled her hand out and flexed her three, thick fingers. She couldn't shake that sensation, like touching silk.
Isra knelt in close, prying at the roots. They broke and bent easily, exposing a pale silvery hand, five fingers tipped in short, rounded nails. It looked glass-like and fragile.
Her fingers wrapped around the cold wrist. The very air seemed to still, whistling winds and skittering sands silent. A faint pulse, slow, easy to miss. Isra wasn't sure how, but this person was still alive, tangled in the roots.
She dug. The roots broke easily, brittle despite the living tree, and perfumed the air with nauseatingly heavy frankincense. Isra felt panic, as though as soon as the person had been found a countdown had begun, but realistically knew that if they had been under the tree long enough for it to envelope them, a few hours more couldn't hurt. Illogical as that entire concept was, she had heard of stranger things in the far distant world. Perhaps the strangeness just took time to cross a desert.
Isra had found the person's face, just below the hand. A woman, she guessed, curled in the roots. She was silvery and furless, A cloth cap flopped over her head and shallow breath moved the fur of Isra's hand.
It took Isra almost the full night to dig the hole deep enough to free her, but she certainly wasn't going to abandon the woman. Even leaving to find help all but assured this place would be lost forever.
Covered with sap and panting breathlessly, Isra scrambled backwards, dragging her over crumbling sand as it filled the hole again. The desert all but ate any evidence of digging while Isra carefully positioned the woman. She untied the scroll tube's cord from her wrist, revealing dark bruising, but otherwise no injuries Isra could find.
Altogether she was a strange one -- and not just because of the tree. She was no animal Isra recognized: earless, noseless, with a strange tendril sprouting on her head and matching her tail. Isra resisted only a moment before flicking the tendril lightly. It drifted to the other side of her face, the filament webbed at its tip glistening in the moonlight.
After trickling some water into the woman's mouth, Isra sat back and waited. The moon reached its zenith, sank slowly toward the horizon, disappeared behind the far-distant dunes.
Isra waited.
The woman sat up, startling her from a light doze. Wide, wet black eyes flicked around. Isra watched, silent and unmoving. Though she seemed to have gone from sleep to wakefulness almost instantly, she still seemed confused. Finally those large eyes fell on Isra.
"Where am I?" Her voice was rough, low and abrupt, completely at odds with her appearance.
"The desert."
The woman was silent a moment, then. "Does this desert have a name?"
Isra nodded. "I'm sure it does, though I don't know it."
"And you?"
"I am Isra."
The woman tried to stand, and Isra was quick to catch her when she stumbled on the shifting sands.
"Careful now," Isra murmured. "You've only just awoken."
Thin, long fingers rose to press against the woman's head. "I, I did, didn't I? What happened?"
"I cannot say. You were bound up in the roots of that tree --" she gestured toward it, only to find it a withered husk being battered by the morning winds. "It seems to have died."
The woman pushed away from Isra to the tree, touched its dusty trunk gingerly. She spoke to it, though Isra couldn't hear the words. Then her gaze fell on the bruise around her wrist, dropping next to the dune beneath their feet.
Isra held out the scroll tube. The woman snatched it from her hands and nearly toppled again. She fell into the tree which shuddered. A few, final dry leaves fell off.
"Can I help in any way?" Isra asked, reaching toward her. The woman was already pulling out the scroll and unrolling it. What she saw seemed to disappoint, however, as she slumped against the tree and tilted her head back.
"It's ruined."
"It's still legible," Isra tried. "Somewhat."
"You read it?"
"Though I don't know the language, I could make out some symbols."
"Good good -- it must have been so long ago." The woman trailed off. "I'm an Emissary of the Global Consciousness."
Isra blinked her large, dark eyes. That sounded impressive, but really meant nothing to her.
"May I call you Emissary?"
The woman was apparently expecting a different reaction, but she eventually nodded. "That's acceptable. I was delivering a message."
Isra politely refrained from looking around at the empty desert."To whom?"
"The ruler of a nation that -- that should be here. Had been here."
"There hasn't been a nation here, at least not one with a ruler, for longer than I've been alive. Perhaps you are lost?"
The Emissary looked around again, then flicked her large tail, also webbed with filament, up to her face. It glowed as she tapped at the webbing. "I'll need a well," she said, then pointed. "There's one that way." With nary another word she packed the scroll and scrambled up the dune.
Isra followed after. Though she seemed unbothered by the heat of day, Isra had no clue how well the Emissary would actually fair. Despite the woman's lighter build, Isra was made to scale dunes and caught up to her quickly.
"You can't rush," she said as the Emissary stumbled, caught herself, and tried again. "Your feet are so tiny, they'll just sink in."
"Then I won't walk," she said, and pushed off the ground. Though she dipped a bit and wobbled, eventually she was stable enough to drift up the dune, a few inches above the sand.
Isra bit her tongue on any questions she had, and silently plodded along as the woman floated down the other side. Her flying was a bit awkward and ungainly, but it did go faster than trying to fight the sands. The Emissary didn't seem opposed to her following, so Isra would do so until either told to leave or given answers.
If she was looking for a well in the middle of the desert, there was time aplenty for Isra to get those answers. And she was nothing if not patient.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Mammal (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
Listed in Folders
I first read this through FurWriters - without any references to Isra being a camel - and kept imagining your character as a cat because most of my desert-dwelling characters are cats.
I have no idea how you might solidify Isra as a camel, but any indication of her camel-ness would be welcome so others don't commit the unspeakable fallacy of camel-cat confusion.
Blah, some of your word order bugs me because it is your word order and not my word order.
Specifically, "Isra instead followed the strap down into the roots"
I like it better as, "Instead, Isra followed the strap down into the roots"
Just rolls off the tongue better.
There may or may not be other fiddly bits like that, but that's the only one I really focused on.
Damn fiddly bits... Editing would be so much faster without them...
All in all, an interesting story. Really the plot you have there, makes me want to read more.
I hope you give it a more final conclusion ^_^ I have a special love for desert stories.
I have no idea how you might solidify Isra as a camel, but any indication of her camel-ness would be welcome so others don't commit the unspeakable fallacy of camel-cat confusion.
Blah, some of your word order bugs me because it is your word order and not my word order.
Specifically, "Isra instead followed the strap down into the roots"
I like it better as, "Instead, Isra followed the strap down into the roots"
Just rolls off the tongue better.
There may or may not be other fiddly bits like that, but that's the only one I really focused on.
Damn fiddly bits... Editing would be so much faster without them...
All in all, an interesting story. Really the plot you have there, makes me want to read more.
I hope you give it a more final conclusion ^_^ I have a special love for desert stories.
Ty for the critique! You've definitely picked up on one of my weaknesses: character description. It doesn't matter so much when dealing with human characters since aside from particulars they mostly look the same, so translating over to furry writing I find it hard to work in what the characters look like, much less what species they are. I tried to put in a few hints here and there, but they are p. far-spread so don't really make a cohesive whole.
And I looked at that part with the instead. You're right, that is awkward. Esp. as there's another instead right after it, too. That would definitely need some reworking to flow better.
I love desert stories, as well. This is my only furry-based one, though, and with the feedback I've gotten I am considering continuing it. Currently it does just sort of peter out of existence, so it wouldn't be unfeasible to polish it up and give it a proper ending.
And I looked at that part with the instead. You're right, that is awkward. Esp. as there's another instead right after it, too. That would definitely need some reworking to flow better.
I love desert stories, as well. This is my only furry-based one, though, and with the feedback I've gotten I am considering continuing it. Currently it does just sort of peter out of existence, so it wouldn't be unfeasible to polish it up and give it a proper ending.
That's a new word to add to my vocabulary: frankincense.
I felt like this was different to stories I've read recently. The topic is not so typical. The setting of the desert and the plant, and the woman, all come together to create a refreshing story. I didn't expect the woman to be alive still - and I get the feeling she's been under the sands for some time. Your dialogue between the characters reminds me very much of Ernest Hemingway's, in the way it is directly and simply put.
You said "Illogical as that entire concept was", but I didn't think the concept of a few more hours not hurting the woman was so illogical. It made sense.
Anyhoo, I enjoyed reading your story. It was uncommon.
-Sini
(P.S. - I'm planning on submitting a journal in which overlooked submissions - including yours - will be noted!)
I felt like this was different to stories I've read recently. The topic is not so typical. The setting of the desert and the plant, and the woman, all come together to create a refreshing story. I didn't expect the woman to be alive still - and I get the feeling she's been under the sands for some time. Your dialogue between the characters reminds me very much of Ernest Hemingway's, in the way it is directly and simply put.
You said "Illogical as that entire concept was", but I didn't think the concept of a few more hours not hurting the woman was so illogical. It made sense.
Anyhoo, I enjoyed reading your story. It was uncommon.
-Sini
(P.S. - I'm planning on submitting a journal in which overlooked submissions - including yours - will be noted!)
Ty for the comment, and yeah, that line does kind of stick out.
I'm glad the setting and bits of unexplained strangeness didn't throw you off from the story, and that you were able to read into it, even. I always find myself trying to include all the information, or accidentally including not nearly enough.
Thanks again for the comment (and the comparison to Hemingway -- while I'm not a rabid fan, I have always enjoyed his writing style for just the reason you mention).
And thanks for promoting my piece again! I don't know if mine's exactly overlooked, since I got some very helpful comments, but I appreciate it and the work you all are doing in the group.
I'm glad the setting and bits of unexplained strangeness didn't throw you off from the story, and that you were able to read into it, even. I always find myself trying to include all the information, or accidentally including not nearly enough.
Thanks again for the comment (and the comparison to Hemingway -- while I'm not a rabid fan, I have always enjoyed his writing style for just the reason you mention).
And thanks for promoting my piece again! I don't know if mine's exactly overlooked, since I got some very helpful comments, but I appreciate it and the work you all are doing in the group.
Now this is an interesting piece, quite stands out from the regular furry themes I seem to encounter. It has a kind of La Petite Prince feel to it.
What I would do with it, is to expand it to four times it's length. This would be the first part, in the 2nd and 3rd part explore the Emissary's past and the world, and in the 4th part make Ilsa reflect her own life compared to what the Emissary would do (say something, call a dropshi to pick her up, die, jump into the well, etc).
What I would do with it, is to expand it to four times it's length. This would be the first part, in the 2nd and 3rd part explore the Emissary's past and the world, and in the 4th part make Ilsa reflect her own life compared to what the Emissary would do (say something, call a dropshi to pick her up, die, jump into the well, etc).
Ty for the response. It's been years since I've thought of that book, but always enjoyed it, and appreciate the comparison!
This is definitely still a work in progress, as you clearly picked up on. While I'm not quite sure where it's going myself, the suggestion is greatly appreciated. It's nice and neatly broken down already for me, and can give me some direction if I'm stuck.
This is definitely still a work in progress, as you clearly picked up on. While I'm not quite sure where it's going myself, the suggestion is greatly appreciated. It's nice and neatly broken down already for me, and can give me some direction if I'm stuck.
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