Ruuya often longed to travel beyond the desert, again. To see the strange, foreign places of blue and green, where the sun did not burn and water flowed freely. But today, the sands, dyed red and gold by the setting sun, seemed to stretch on towards eternity. She didn't know where, or if, they ended.

She had one comfort, however: books from the green lands of tale and song. The lands that her people said were theirs by birthright, that their king, Ganondorf, would help them reclaim one day. Ruuya wasn't sure that was true, but well…

It was best not to speak her doubts aloud. Instead, she kept her head down and read on, even once the sun ducked below the desert sands. Always her eyes remained on the pages, taking in the odd phrases and wild claims. Or...well, she tried to. Dear Din, it was getting late.

Ruuya stared down at the tome in her hands with bleary eyes. The language written before her was not her own, lacking the curves she was so used to. She strained to make out the words and match their meanings to ones she knew. She tapped one section several times.

"Naruun? Hey, Naruun!" Ruuya called, keeping her eyes on the page. "Come look at this!"

The nightwatch, Naruun, leaned against a tall wooden post. A piece of green banner was tied to the top, one of many markers that signified this makeshift camp of tents as home. "No thanks, Ruuya," she said, exasperated.

"Oh, come on!" Ruuya said. "I need your help. Do you think this is pronounced with a "ch" or a "kh" sound?"

Naruun groaned. "I don't care, Ruuya. Why are you even trying to read that book anyway?"

Ruuya finally glanced up. Naruun still was looking away from her, staring up at the darkened heavens. It looked like it might rain tonight.

"Because it's important! Every other day we're told that when the desert king rises, we must be there to support his conquest of Hyrule. We should be able to say "Hello, we're taking over your kingdom" in more than one language!" She uncrossed her legs and placed her foot next to the fire to warm her toes. "Why settle for just one tiny kingdom? Have you seen how large Calatia is?"

Naruun sighed and sat down next to her. She stabbed the butt of her spear into the sand. "This isn't about power, Ruu. It's to show those damned Hylians and blood traitors that they're not better than us."

Ruuya closed the book in her lap. "I think of this as a vital step. In any case," she said, rolling a shoulder, "it's about time I get some sleep. My eyes can't take translating by firelight anymore."

Naruun yawned. "Alright. See you tomorrow."

"Good night."

Ruuya got to her feet and walked away. Naruun waved her off.

The sand was cool under her toes. Nightfall had transformed the scorching desert into a freezing wasteland. The few firepits scattered around camp did well to chase off the chilly air, though only in close proximity. Inside of the canvas tents, one could usually find a lantern or a small fire besides to keep warm while sleeping. Most would be extinguished, by time or hands, before the first rays of sun peaked over the horizon.

Ruuya weaved around the many tents set up around the small oasis. Each of them were of the same uniform tan, the ends buried beneath the sand. On the northern side of the camp, a great many horses were corralled in a large covered area. How and where the wood had come from to build it, she didn't know. Nobody knew. Supposedly, the elders of the past had haggled for the lumber, though Ruuya couldn't help wondering who would ever trade, in bulk no less, with a Gerudo.

Knowing her people, they probably stole every last piece.

Tucking the book under her arm, she opened the door in the fence, and shut it behind her. All around were sleeping horses, solidly built and as trustworthy as any loyal sister. She deftly made her way across the pen to one particular mare, brown with large patches of white on her hindquarters. She laid on her stomach, side-by-side with another horse, sharing warmth.

"Hey, Jamila," she whispered. "How are you feeling tonight?"

The mare pushed her snout into Ruuya's hand. She chuckled.

"I'll take that as a 'good'." Ruuya gently patted the horse's nose. She sat down on the horse's food trough. With a smirk on her lips, she rested the book on her lap and cracked it open. While flipping between a couple pages, she eased out a small bundle of brown stems nestled between the back cover and final page. She reached over and placed her hand under the horse's long muzzle.

"Come on," she whispered. "Eat it. You need it."

After a couple sniffs, Jamila licked up the stems, eating them greedily. Ruuya smiled.

"Good girl." She scratched behind the horse's ear, then shuffled over to lay against her.

Head tilted up against Jamila's side, and hands splayed on the open book, she began to hum. There wasn't much to look at in the sky. Dark clouds blotted out the stars; a rare occurrence, but a welcome one. Perhaps a light rain would grace her home tonight. Perhaps not.

A part of her wished that the stars were out. They would give her an excuse to stay up longer, gazing upon the ancestors in the heavens, nestled against the mare's flank. But they weren't, and Ruuya had better things to do this night.

Grunting, she got to her feet. "Good night, Jamila," she said, running a hand through the mare's mane. "Love you."

Ruuya left Jamila in her makeshift stall. The lack of light made avoiding piles of manure tricky, but at last, she made it to the fence without too much of that unmentionable substance coating her feet. The brief surge of victory compelled her to vault over the fence, instead of using the entrance like a normal person. She strolled back into camp proper, book once more underarm.

Ruuya's heart thudded in her chest. Her grip on the book tightened.

Thievery was a way of life for her people. To pluck a rupee from a stranger's pocket was a test of skill. But to pinch something from family was a sign of cunning. Friendly pranks and petty arguments could result in missing belongings, and Ruuya knew firsthand how much could be taken in a single night.

In-village thefts were outright encouraged on occasion. So long as everyone knew the boundaries.

Ruuya kept an even gait, ignoring the feeling of impending condemnation.

A couple of the bonfires were dying, their low flames allowing shadows to take back the evening. She avoided the light whenever possible, unconsciously stepping lightly around the occupied tents. The few sisters out on watch were stretched out around the camp's perimeter, save for Naruun, who was set to rouse the others if any of those on watch sighted a disturbance. They were spread thin, however, for most of their best were out protecting the elders.

Sneaking through the darkened camp, Ruuya thanked the desert goddess for the thick clouds which hid both moon and stars. These were signs that a rare rainstorm would come upon their camp tonight. Due to this, the elders had left earlier, burdened with fruits, vegetables, and spices as a gift to the gods. As per tradition, a number of able-bodied warriors had accompanied them in a procession. They would be back before long, but Ruuya hoped her business would be concluded by then.

If not...she would have to face the consequences. Exile, perhaps. Death with no provisions. Never seeing Veil or Jamila again. She swallowed.

Be brave, Ruuya chided herself. May the goddess protect me and my paths…

On silent feet, she crept behind the largest tent in the village: the chief's. Este, one of the women on watch, had gone to relieve herself, and Naruun wasn't paying attention. As quietly as she could, Ruuya lifted a tent flap from the sands, crouched down, and slipped herself inside.

There were obvious marks from her entrance; having to pull oneself through a tight opening did that. Though on this night, she couldn't dwell on it. Her time was too short, haste was a necessity. Precaution be cursed.

The inside of the tent was dark as pitch. The illumination from the fires outside had been brief in her entrance. Now it was gone, leaving Ruuya to blindly shuffle through the tent. For a moment, she tried remembering the last time she had been summoned here, and all the small glances she had stolen through the entry flaps thereafter. Large jars and a few chests lined the back wall, she knew, and the center was dedicated to a small fire-pit where a tea kettle hung.

In the dark, she slammed her toes against something. Hard. Mentally she cursed, biting her lip. Her usual run of luck was showing its ugly face again.

For several seconds, she froze, straining her ears for sounds of footsteps, but no guards came. She bent down and felt around with her hands for what exactly she had bumped into. The surface was smooth, rounded. It came up to about knee height. The oil jar, then. That gave her a rough idea of where the three chests were. The largest held the airy and gorgeous clothing that the chieftain wore daily. The smallest was filled with dust, spices, and assorted mystic items for divining and magic. The last was reserved for precious things, a prized collection from raids passed from leader to leader.

The closest thing a tribe of thieves had to heirlooms.

They, she remembered, were lined up along the back of the tent. Clothing, spices, treasures. She may not have been entirely intimate with their secrets, but it was just enough to know their general contents. Crawling, she resumed her sneaking, taking care to not bump into anything too harshly again.

The chest wasn't overly ordinate. It was made of a simple, yet sturdy, wicker, held shut by an iron lock. Taking two thin pins from her ponytail, she inserted them into the lock. It wasn't the first time she'd ever lockpicked under duress. The monitored trips she'd made to Calatia in the past had almost always been full of thievery lessons. How to keep to the shadows in silence; the art of picking a potential "boyfriend" out of the crowd; maneuvering through an unknown area to safety.

And of course, how to pick pockets and locks. Usually there was some kind of time limit or multiple people around. If she tried hard enough, Ruuya could almost imagine herself in some hapless fisherman's shack by the sea, intent on stealing his poles and bait. Or something along those lines. It was certainly a calmer image than breaking into the head honcho's tent and pinching a centuries old book.

In a matter of moments, the lock clicked. Ruuya smiled, replaced her hairpins, and lifted the lid. She felt around inside the chest, hands running over a myriad of objects. Silks and leather, sharp statues and gambling die, coins and scraps of parchment. A pile of miscellaneous treasures.

And books. There was a stack of them in one corner, spines conveniently facing away from the sides of the wicker crate. Ruuya licked her lips. She ran her fingers over each one. A small box stopped her hand from progressing to the bottom, but that hardly mattered.

She felt out the cover of the top book, tracing the blocky letters. The Art of Keese Cuisine. Ruuya took the book out, and set it aside. The next few were all similarly passed over, joining the first at her side. She reached back in, expecting the same rough texture of weathered leather. Instead, her fingers touched a soft material. It wasn't silk. Cotton perhaps? She could just make out something indented below it...

Licking her lips, Ruuya pulled on the cloth, lifting the next book a bit. The box and folded clothing surrounding it were jostled, moving up as well. With a huff of impatience and practiced skill, Ruuya carefully extracted the covered object. The box settled to the bottom quietly, and the fabrics were left more or less in their stack.

Caressing every last inch of the textile, Ruuya licked her lips again. A little knot to the side was quickly undone, and she tossed the bag away.

She felt out the tome. The leather was dried, and chipped from ages passed. The lettering was odd; not as angular as Hylian script, but not as curvy as Gerudo. She swallowed, breath held. Rubbing her fingers against the leather, she felt the letters and symbols on the cover. A circle surrounded four triangles. A faded childhood memory became sharper.

Ruuya smiled. She knew the title of the book. She could recall the day her mother, standing tall, held it over her head in victory after a raid on the green lands.

Mudora.

Almost reverently, Ruuya held the book to her chest. She could scarcely believe it: the tome was here, intact, in her hands. Months of planning, watching, and adjusting her public attitude to match that which her sisters held. Years of waiting and obeying her superiors while ignoring the whispers behind her back. And here it was.

Carefully, she returned the other books, mind whirling with what Mudora could contain. Tales of magic, tales of Hyrule. Of the truth that she only knew hints of in scattered visions and dreams...

Years of being kept in the dark were over. She'd finally have the answers she'd longed for since childhood.

The chest shut with a soft click. Ruuya rewrapped the book in its cotton cover, and sat the one she brought with her on top of it. Taking a deep breath, she crept back towards the disturbed sands.

Ruuya heard no footsteps tread outside the tent. She lifted the flap and peeked outside. It was darker than it had been a few minutes ago, the cool light rain making it even darker than before. She slipped out into the damp night, books pressed against her chest.

Looking around, she saw no one nearby. Heart threatening to burst from her chest, she marched forward, forcing herself not to run. Running was noisy. Running was suspicious. Despite her survival instincts screaming at her to sprint towards her horse's pen and safety, she kept a brisk pace through the village, weaving between tents and straying from the watch and the glow of their covered lanterns in the night.

A tiny thrill shot through her. Nobody had seen her! She was almost to the makeshift stable, Jamila and-

Pain blossomed in the back of her head; darkness followed a moment later.

Ruuya awoke, blinking at the too bright sunlight. Day. Damn, she thought, covering her eyes. The back of her head ached like she'd been kicked by a horse.

"She's awake!" cried an old, withered voice. A moment later, her vision was filled with a wrinkly, sunburnt woman.

Great.

"You are a foolish girl," said the elder. Minia, her brain supplied. She was the nicest of the bunch, though as a whole, they were a nest of rattlesnakes.

"I told you she couldn't be trusted!" cried another, even older voice.

Ugh. Crone's here, too. Ruuya shook her head. Rhiun was such a grouch, always looking for something to gripe about. Especially good if it's me, of course.

Her eyes adjusted to the light. She was in the center of a tent, right where the sunlight streamed through the top opening. It was the chief's tent, of course, where else? Why her - their leader wasn't here raking a traitor over the coals, Ruuya didn't know.

"Well," she said, sitting up, "it's nice to know the feeling's mutual." She smiled wryly, and rested her hands in her lap. Her wrists were bound together by a piece of rope.

"Ruuya," said Minia, lips pressed together. "You were found sneaking out of the elders' tent last night. The Book of Mudora was found in your possession."

"Such a good sister, Zara," chipped in Rhiun, clamping her hands mildly. She always looked so sinister. "She knocked you out so you wouldn't get away. Your mare was up for hours afterwards. The poor thing was so tired this morning..." Her near toothless smile was nothing short of smug.

"Yes..." said Minia, a sigh falling from her lips. "You were clearly planning on abandoning your home and family. So tell us, why did you see it fit to not only steal from us, but assume you could get away unpunished?"

Ruuya shook her head, as if to rid herself of her headache. It only made it worse. She took a deep breath.

"I believed," she said, "that I was owed answers, answers only found within Mudora. For years I asked what the dreams meant. You dismissed them; dismissed me. I was a sister - your daughter -"

"Pah!" Rhiun spat to the side, waving her hand. "You are no daughter of ours."

"That!" Ruuya cried. A fire burned in her chest, refusing to be extinguished. "That right there is what I'm talking about!"

"Ruuya," said Rhiun. The old crone placed a hand on her shoulder as though to bring her comfort, instead, she squeezed it hard enough to leave a bruise. "Your dreams were nonsense. Our new king will not be some monster, child, nor a brute. He will lead us to rule o'er the green lands, to the prosperity which is our birthright!"

Rhiun poked Ruuya's collarbone with a sharp fingernail.

"You are a disgrace, child," she said, still pressing her nail against Ruuya, drawing a little blood. "You have always been a disgrace! We all dream of ridiculous happenings, but they are not real!"

Minia shook her head, sighing, drawing attention to herself. She then gently yanked Rhiun back, giving her a look. "We spoke of this several times," she said, eyes shifting to Ruuya. "Doubt clouds your vision. The only way forward is to serve our king when he rises. Why couldn't you perish those silly thoughts of yours and behave?"

"They kept happening!" Ruuya yelled, wishing Minia would listen. She was always far more reasonable than Rhiun. She was often the only voice of reason in this whole tribe! "They kept happening but none of you ever want to listen to me! Desert winds turning from gentle breezes to perilous storms. Feral beasts tearing the land to pieces, steel reflecting light, a creature so huge and towering -"

"Silence!" Rhiun cried.

"- that it could destroy all we hold dear!" Ruuya glared at the old woman, teeth bared, eyes burning.

"Those dreams are...just dreams," said Minia, somewhere behind her head. It sounded like she was gathering something.

Water. Pouring into a canteen...

"I believe," said Rhiun, "it is time for her punishment, Minia."

"Agreed."

Ruuya grit her teeth, and stilled her tongue. She had an inkling of what they were doing. Still, a chill ran up her spine.

Banishment. At least it wasn't death...

Rhiun spoke to someone through the tent's opening. A sister came in, and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to her feet.

"Let's go, traitor," she said, then pulled Ruuya out of the tent. She stumbled, feet tripping over sunlit sands.

Outside, it seemed every sister had gathered to see this awful ritual. Confused and angered faces stared back at her. She ignored them, mostly. She had made her peace long ago.

It wasn't as if any one of them actually cared what became of Rhiun's wayward daughter.

"Sisters!" said Rhiun. Apparently, she was eager to get started. "Ruuya has been caught attempting to steal an ancient and sacred heirloom from us! She nearly fled to those filthy Hylians had not Zara awoken and ambushed her. Now, she stands before you as a traitor to us all! A traitor to the Great Ganondorf!"

Ruuya refrained from rolling her eyes. The woman next to her tightened her grip on Ruuya's arms, as though she expected Ruuya to jolt, of all things.

"For her transgressions, Ruuya will be stripped of the title "sister" and cast out into the wastes, just as the blood traitors did to us long ago!" Some cheered, some clapped. A few looked away as though… No, they could not be ashamed. Why would they be? Her mind was playing tricks on her.

Still, something in her chest tightened. This was the only home she had ever known.

Minia untied her wrists, and passed a worn bag to the sister behind Ruuya. The sister slung it over her head. Ruuya's vision blurred; then darkened. All she could see was tan canvas.

"No weapons! No horse! She shall leave with nothing more than a day's provisions and the clothes on her back!" said Rhiun with glee. "She shall face the wastes alone."

"Wait!" said a sister from the crowd.

Ruuya couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. Veil had come after all. She still...she still loved her, even after Ruuya had betrayed her trust.

"Please, elder Rhiun!" said Veil. "The wastes are incredibly dangerous during the day. Please allow her to ride out with a scimitar, a spear, something."

"Child, she is worse than those who cast us out," Rhiun said condescendingly. "She was family, and refused to treat us as such. Why should we let her go with anything more?"

Ruuya smiled, amazed. Her girlfriend's stubbornness was admirable, and at times, frightening.

"Because I don't believe we are worse than the blood traitors," she said, every ounce of anger filtering through her voice. Ruuya imagined Veil there, almost a head shorter than Rhiun, but still formidable, matching Rhiun glare for glare, her flaming hair whipping back in the strong breeze that brushed past. "They let our ancestors leave with blades and two mares. Even supplies! We should at least show the same courtesy...no, we ought to show more. We. Are. Better."

"She is correct, Rhiun," said Minia, breaking her solemn silence. "Let the girl have her horse."

In the ensuing silence, Ruuya struggled to keep a straight face. The voice of reason could not be denied.

Seconds passed, then Rhiun spoke. "Very well," she said, surprisingly even. "No one else around here has been able to tame that beast, anyway."

She sent someone from the crowd away, then her obscured figure shifted towards Veil.

"She may take one spear with her." Ruuya kept a scoff to herself. Rhiun addressed the crowd, "Are there any further objections? ...Good."

Veil sighed, but her shadowy form withdrew into the gathering of silhouettes Ruuya could make out through the bag on top of her head. Some began to grumble, whispering amongst themselves. Others derided her with cursing or foul remarks. A few...

Same old, same old. Like she hadn't heard it all before.

When the woman hadn't come back, Ruuya sucked in a breath and whistled. The note was long and loud, descending and rising in three notes. On the other side of the village, a horse neighed.

"Show off," someone muttered. It sounded like Veil. Ruuya started whistling again, and a hand was slapped over her mouth.

"Quiet!" said Rhiun. Ruuya couldn't help the smile that spread over her face before the old Crone removed her hand. She could hear shouting and whinnying, gradually growing closer. Jamila galloped, then trotted to the edge of the gathering.

"You did say nobody else could tame her," Minia whispered. Ruuya doubted anyone but Rhiun and the sister whom stopped her from running had heard.

"You have been granted a small mercy, this day," Rhiun said. "Be grateful." A sharp retort was on Ruuya's tongue, then swallowed. Instead, she hummed, the corners of her lips lifting.

"Well?" said the sister.

"Thank you," Ruuya said, mockingly. She purposely avoided any title.

Rhiun cleared her throat with a particularly loud "hu-hum".

"Take off the bag, sister," said Minia. "We need not guide her to the wastes, Jamila knows the way."

The sister did as asked.

Minia stood nearby, glaive in hand, and nodded at Jamila who had come at Ruuya's call. When had she left? The elder nodded to the sister, and the other woman let Ruuya go. Rubbing her arm, Ruuya looked up and met Minia's eyes. They were hard, yes, but...there was something else there, too.

Perhaps an ounce of compassion. Perhaps she just wanted compassion, though.

"Take these," she said. Minia handed over the spear and a small saddlebag. Ruuya signaled Jamila to stand beside her. "May the stars guide you."

She knew the phrase, one of luck, hope, guidance. The three things their tribe had asked for from the Sand Goddess upon their exile long ago.

She returned it in kind, keeping her voice low. "And also you."

The old Crone's voice broke the moment. "You have your horse," she said, "and weapon. Be gone. If any of our sisters ever see you again, it will be your last breath."

Ruuya hoisted herself onto Jamila, careful not to let the blade hurt the mare. Back straight, bag secured, and spear in one hand, Ruuya chanced one last look at the buzzing crowd. There, near the back, stood Veil.

Her heart ached. For a second, she regretted her choices. For a moment... Then, the wind swept it away, blowing back the past.

There was nothing she could say.

Ruuya nudged Jamila into a trot. With the crowd still within earshot, she twisted around. "My last breath," she shouted. "shall be in freedom! Yah!" She urged Jamila into a gallop, her hair whipping in the wind.

Heart hammering in her chest, Ruuya rode on. This was it. Long had she daydreamed of escaping the confines of the village. To choose when she could leave, to set her own schedules and duties.

But now. Now she was hollowed out. She couldn't be sure what the feeling was, exactly. It unsettled her mind, and let her thoughts adrift. She almost missed the dune and the leather straps sticking out of it. Ruuya swallowed and halted Jamila. Taking a breath, she slid off the side of the mare, and dug into the sand. Buried beneath was an old bag, packed with dried meat, and spices to ward off any creatures that may have found it.

She hung the bag opposite the one given to her by Minia, then dug deeper. A half foot down, her fingers brushed against two hilts, side by side. She grabbed them both, and stood up. A fine layer of sand still clung to the scimitars, but aside from that, they were in good shape.

Ruuya slipped them into the empty sheaths hanging from her belt. Then, with a steadying breath, she climbed onto her horse, and continued on.

She didn't look back.