If there was something staying with Hesi until her death, it was the heat. Scorching, infernal heat. She clicked her tongue, wiping the side of her face with her exposed arm. Her skin glistened with sweat, particles of sand clinging to it like hungry leeches. No matter what she did, the sand wouldn't fall off until the world cooled for the night.

She glanced at the sky. It was a long way off.

A squeal uncharacteristic of the harsh desert erupted behind her. She whirled in alarm, her hand swinging directly towards a pile of thorny stalks. Pain shot up her wrist. Darpeh.

"Give it back!" Pai, her sister, chased a smaller boy—their youngest brother, Unsu, her hands outstretched. In his hands was her scarf. Unsu darted around, arm raised. The scarf fluttered in the air, fighting the wind's direction. A deadly beacon. A flare in the darkness. The boy's wide eyes and slightly parted mouth were not welcome reactions.

But they were necessary.

A breeze picked up from the west, ruffling Pai's bobbed hair. She swiped at the thick strands blocking most of her forehead and growled, racing after her brother. "No, no. Don't put it—agh!" She clawed at her cheeks as Unsu gripped both ends of the scarf and pressed the middle smack into his sweaty curls.

"I just washed that!" Pai wailed. "Give it back, takfakhte!"

Hesi shot up. "Pai!" She cradled her hand, wincing at the faint, stabbing pain prickling in her skin. "We do not call anyone that."

Where did she learn it? From the merchants? The people of Agkhre? It was a hideous word; Hesi couldn't dare to utter it. Hearing it out of Pai's mouth—thrown to their brother, no less—horrifying.

"I know, but he..." Pai stomped her feet on the ground in a misplaced tantrum. For a girl nearing her moon-cycles, it was ironic. Her sister jabbed an accusatory finger in Unsu's direction, her eyes misting against the desert heat. "He touched it to his stinking sweat. His stinking sweat—"

Hesi marched towards the small boy, clamped a shoulder down his bone-thin shoulder, and yanked the scarf out of his grip. The whine ripping off his mouth couldn't have been human. A mule out for slaughter, maybe.

"Unsu, apologize to your sister." Hesi crouched and fixed his sleeveless tunic, which slid off the other shoulder. It was several sizes too big. It was their father's, after all—one of the last memories they have left. "We do not touch things that are not ours."

Unsu stuck a lip out. At least he stopped throwing the same tantrum as Pai did behind them. "Is that one of the sur-vi-val rules?" Unsu asked, stumbling over the word. At seven, it was long for him. But he would learn. He must.

Hesi had not an inkling of how to talk to other children, so she bobbed her head and dusted his trousers. The beaded cords they used to tie it up clinked against each other. "We are humans, Unsu," she said. "We do not liken ourselves to demons."

Unsu sniffed, not because of what he was reprimanded for but because Hesi reminded him of their situation. Of the sole fact they learned since they opened their eyes.

Still, the boy turned to Pai who crossed her arms. "S-sorry," Unsu muttered, twiddling his fingers.

Pai glanced at him. "You're coming with me to the river."

Hesi's eyes widened. Unsu dissolved into the sand, flailing and squealing. "No river!" he wailed. Understandable. The last time they went, a flock of herons pecked at his hair because he poked around their nesting grounds. Since then, do not disturb things that shouldn't be disturbed joined their survival rules.

Hesi turned to her sister who wore a smug smile as though she won the heaviest pound of meat. "That's not something to feel happy about, Pai," she said. Unlike Unsu, who merely needed a distraction to forget his woes, dealing with a girl only years younger than her was tougher. "Apologize to Unsu as well."

An incredulous scoff tore off Pai. "I'm not the one at fault!" she defended.

"But you retaliated," Hesi replied. "What do we say about retaliating?"

Pai's arm dropped to her sides and rolled her eyes. The nerve. "Only do it when lives are at stake," she muttered.

Hesi took Unsu's hand and stalked towards Pai, holding out her sister's scarf. "And are there any?"

Pai couldn't have snatched the scarf faster than she did. Her lips curled into a frown, as though she didn't agree with what came out of her mouth but had no choice but to. "No," she said. "But—"

"No buts." Hesi put a palm forward, stopping the girl before her cart sloped down the hill. Despite the guilt clawing in her gut, she jerked her chin at their brother who now clung to her leg like a long-tailed monkey to a date tree. "Apologize."

Pai sighed. "I'm sorry, Unsu." She turned to Hesi, an expectant look on her face. "Happy now?"

The urge to fling the girl's scarf into the wind herself gripped her arms. She wouldn't let Pai, who couldn't chuck a spear at a charging demon, walk over her. Her fists clenched. They knew who owned the scarf, and she had an idea what Pai would say.

Their mother. It was the life put at stake, and the scarf was a painful reminder.

Hesi had never been farther from happiness than this moment. She stayed at the edges long enough to forget what it meant. What it entailed.

"One last thing." Hesi whirled to her siblings. "We do not seek attention to ourselves by emitting loud noises. You two forgot that part."

Pai's features curled on the verge of reasoning further. Hesi beat her to it with a pointed look. "You know what lurked in the dunes," she said. "What might appear at any time."

Silence. Only the wind and the scratches of tumbleweed and dried leaves against the sand accompanied them. Hesi blew a humid breath. "Keep your guard up. Don't be distracted." Her face must be as grim as the dread in her gut because Pai's resistance evened out and Unsu started fidgeting. "There's only one way to survive."

Don't make a noise. Don't ever make a noise.

And they understood that.

"Let's go." Hesi trudged back to the wicker basket halfway filled with thorny stalks and bright red buds. Charbi succulents. It would do. Pai and Unsu's altercation might have stirred the vipers' nest. It was a gamble she didn't want to take.

She gripped the basket's straps and slung them over her shoulder. The rags dug against her skin, her tunic the only one shielding her from them. Her own scarf tucked her long, thick hair out of her face, showing her an unobstructed world. She tapped the crude belt slung around her waist. Knife, check. Extra blades, check. They didn't lose things in the sand.

Pai shouldered her own basket and helped Unsu gather his. The smaller vessel would be full if they combined everything they harvested all morning.

Hesi craned her neck up the incline. At the foot of this dune sat the village. The elders—humans who survived for as long as they did—expected bounty even when Wareph turned her back on them long ago.

They scaled up the dune, heaving their near-empty baskets with thrashing arms. Step after step, they slogged through the warm sand scalding and scratching them past the hems of their trousers. It would either welt, tear, or scab later, but it wasn't as though they had a choice other than braving the terrain.

Screams and growls nipped at Hesi's ears. A wave of shivers ran down her spine, tempting to freeze her in place. What...

Pai hissed, floundering up the crest faster. Hesi's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" She demanded, clawing after her sister. Her fingers only caught air and a handful of sand. She turned to Unsu, grabbed his basket, and tossed it inside her own. "Keep up," she said through her teeth. Let her put her trust in his strength. Just this once.

Pai reached the peak seconds before her. Something brushed her feet. She looked down to find Unsu clambering a few steps behind. Good boy. "Pai!" Hesi snarled, keeping her voice low. Those screams were familiar even if they belonged to another mouth. "Don't run off on your own."

Hesi didn't wait for her sister to acknowledge that. Instead, she peered over the peak. Her heart stopped. Ran cold not long after. Onyx colored the sienna sand with darkness Hesi counted on but was never prepared to see.

The Mayaware. They arrived.

Hesi whirled to her siblings. "Go east," she said. "I'll follow."

"What about the tent?" Pai asked.

"Never mind that," Hesi replied, knowing what her statement entailed. Their tent had everything their parents left them. Losing it, leaving it behind, it meant throwing a piece of their lives to the desert wolves.

Pai, the sentimental brat that she was, wiped the back of her hand against her cheek. Survival Rule: do not question Hesi when the Mayaware shows up. As much as she shirked away from the duty, it was the only thing her parents asked of her that day. Keep them safe. And she would do it until her last breath.

"Go east," Hesi said again when neither of her siblings moved. "Use the peak to shield you. Pick up deshet on your way."

They learned it the hard way that day. Their parents, whose names hadn't even become apparent to their children, scampered to the deshet bushes and slotted their children in. Unsu was a mere babe, still swaddled in cloth, but their mother thrust him into Hesi's arms. Keep them safe.

Then, they were gone. Hesi watched through the gaps between the branches as dark scales and onyx claws swept across the air. Humans strewed around, mouths open in panic and hollow screams. They knew what awaited them if they got caught. Night had fallen on them, and when Hesi and Pai crawled out of the bushes, a wasteland rivaling the unforgiving desert greeted them. A field of blood. An expanse of the dead.

Hesi blinked the memory away, shaking her head as though she was eager to watch her braids swing around. She forced herself to peer past the crest. Their tent remained standing, the oasis' pool shimmering beside it. Everyone packed up or died doing so. As though in mockery, the sunlight made the blood staining the sand darker.

To head down, it would be suicide. No clear path led to the tent. Everything would end in a rusty tang. A scream tore off from the east, right where she told her siblings to go. She whirled and saw two towering beings bearing down on them. Sand sprayed in the air as she dashed forward, bile rising to her throat in droves.

The demons unleashed scales, their bald heads disappearing into a hide resembling snakes. Fangs curved from their gums, frills spread wide. Pai had her arm out, shielding Unsu as they scrambled back. Hesi pumped her legs. Faster.

She reached the first one before it could reach out and grab Pai. Unlike the ones down in the village, they weren't keen on hurting them. Was there a reason for that?

Hesi didn't care. Her knife, the one she used to harvest harmless flowers and thorny stalks, hissed on its way out of the sheath. With a cry, she slammed into the first demon, slashing up. Her blade screeched, skidding off the rock-hard scales. The demons turned to her.

Pai knew what to do. She leveled her blade at the demon, watching them scamper away in the corner of her eyes. When it was certain they were far out, she ducked under the clawed swipe and hooked her leg around the demon's leg. She pulled. Weight crashed over the fiery pit. Her blade whined against scales. Sparks burned the bright sky.

Silver flashed in her periphery. She leaned away, her fingers closing around the spear's shaft. She pulled, slashing her knife backward. The spear's owner hissed but steered clear. Fangs snapped for a piece of her flesh. She stabbed down, hurling the spear straight into the chink between the demon's frills and cheek.

A pained roar tore through the dune. Hesi rolled away as the spear's owner rushed forward. She gripped her knife tighter, the sweat of her palms arms slicking the hilt. The sun never relented. Neither should she.

"Come on!" She bared her teeth the same way the Mayaware did. Her eyes scanned the horizon. Two. Three. Four. Two more cresting the dune. It didn't matter. As long as Pai and Unsu were safe, she'd keep these vapid creatures entertained.

She lunged, meeting another spear swinging for her head. Sand dredged her trousers, flung into her eyes, and scraped against her skin as she pivoted on bare feet upon meeting a curved blade. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, shoving its owner backward, straight into its advancing comrade. Skin and bones squelched and shattered against the sharp point.

Mayaware might be impenetrable from the waist up, but their rock-like scales meant they were also bulky. A brief shake, a mere quiver from the knee, and they'd come toppling down like crumbling statues.

Hesi wiped the corner of her mouth, her knife glinting against the blasting rays. "Is that all you've got?"

A demon yanked its spear from its fallen comrade and faced her. "Human dare speak opposed with us?" it said in broken Birejyet. "She pay."

The Mayaware lunged, the others joining in. To them, Hesi was just another prey who dared think she was better. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction. She was Hesi Renen.

And she would be the last thing the Mayaware would see before they dissolve to the wind.

She slammed her foot against the demon's knee, forcing it to fold and let its owner down. The spear thumped on the sand, and the wind did its best to cover it up. On her way to meet the oncoming demons, she flipped the shaft to her fingers with a flick of her foot. Her knife found its home beside the demon's head. It fell forward. Creatures of the night shouldn't kneel. There was no mercy waiting for them.

Hesi screamed as she raised her newfound spear and met the one with the curved blade. She pushed back and swung. The tip passed across the demon in a hairbreadth as it jumped back. So close.

A loud horn blasted through the desert. Hesi's spear sailed into empty air as the demons lost interest in her and turned towards the wooden cart wheeling over the dune. She chucked the spear. With her problematic aim and the demons' quick shuffle, it landed on the sand with a silent thud.

The cart's walls thumped, and human screams emanated through the spaces between the planks. A certain thread reached Hesi's ears, sending her gut to the chill of hell. Faces pressed against the cart's metal rails—a poor excuse for a window—and they belong to...

"Pai! Unsu!" Hesi shouted, tearing after the cart. The Mayaware, with their glinting scales and sharp weapons, turned to her and dropped into a stance. They didn't attack, but Hesi stopped. Twenty of them, and she was one woman.

Hesi Renen was on her own, and she fed her siblings to the fire.

So, she lowered her arm; her knife dulled to a shadow beside her. She watched the cart roll away, and the only thing the desert could do was dim the sunlight and make the night come faster.