They walked for days in the blistering heat; their feet rubbed raw from the ragged stones. Following ancient roads they wound onwards, searching desperately. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and years turned to generations. Parched nomads they became, hunting for a miracle.
Soon, they all but forgot their beginning. They knew only of the end, only of their goal.
Two hundred years after the first traveller set foot in the dry, winding passages they found it. First a trickle, then a flood.
Water.
About the Creator
Ash Taylor
Lover of fantasy and all things whimsical. Currently studying Writing and Publishing at UNE in Armidale, Australia. Living on Anaiwan land.
he/him
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Comments (1)
Wow! This feels like the beginning of an ancient tale. Beautiful ❤️