Disclaimer: Song of the Lioness is not mine, however this specific organization of words is.

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The nightly winds blew bits of sand into her eyes. It didn't matter overmuch—they hurt already. What was a little extra irritation? She couldn't stop staring at the spot where a tent once stood. It marveled her, how quickly the wind erased all traces of life out here on the desert.

Footprints, swept away as soon as they are pressed into the dunes.

Plants, blown away as soon as their roots lift from the rocks below.

Animals, given unmarked graves only barely sheltered from the day's heat.

Life passed unnoticed out here. Things came and went without ever leaving so much as a trace. The tribe, once it decided to move again, would never see these sands again. All memories made here would blur into the desert, just as they would into the minds of the tribe.

All her memories here, too.

She'd read of the romances of some women: cliché to the point of revolting, yet she occasionally found herself vaguely envious. What would it be to be a normal woman? Just once?

Boring, she told herself, sighing and knowing the truth of it.

Yet still, the simple pleasure of it was strangely appealing. To act as a courting couple might do and live the traditional life of a man and a woman. Perhaps she would take a long walk on the beach, inscribe the name of her lover with hers in the…

…not the sand. That would be such a statement to the temporariness of that love. The wind would just erase all traces of it, blowing it back in her eyes.

She pulled herself to her feet, grabbed her walking stick, moved to where the tent had once been, and dragged the stick behind her in the sand as she circled the invisible tent once before standing back from it. The circle she left glowed faintly purple with the memories she had attached to it. Watching, waiting for the next gust, she stood with her stick clenched in her right hand and her feet slightly splayed, eyes fixed on the purple glow.

Purple sand began to fly, dancing sparkling patterns in the air as they flew off into the night, taking with them the pain of so many memories made. The land could never forget, but maybe she could. She would never have simple love, but never again would she make it in the sand on a windy night.