Hot sands swirled around her on the desert breeze, its mournful cry sharp and clear like the burning sparks above. Not a soul stirred in the featureless desert, broken only by the sage, the cactus or the red rock.
One by one the sparks grew stronger as if twilight strengthened into darkness though the world did not change, remaining dim save for her immediate presence. The coyote, wandering singly in search of food, occasionally gave voice to his concern for his family, who answered him with confident shouts of their own, filling the night with stanza and bar of their melody.
Others, too, passed by on business of their own: a hare looked for tender greens alongside an armored tortoise for cactus, bats flocked in the night to search out flowers to drink while the desert wolf slunk in the shadows for the unwary.
In the sand between her front hooves a black scorpion appeared, leaving its burrow below.
Without knowing why, she stooped and picked him up. In her hand he showed no fear or anger, simply staring at her with lidless eyes.
“You are in danger.” the scorpion said in a tiny voice, high-pitched and shrill.
“I am always in danger.” she told it sadly. “For I am not meant for peace.”
“Yet you hunger for it.” the scorpion accused. “As the starving wolf hungers for the flesh he seeks.”
“I will never find it.” she cried in despair. “For what I am, and what I can do, there will always be hatred against me.”
Her voice became stronger, full of resolve. “And even if you offer me a chance to be free, I would not take it. For darkness and hate will seek me regardless, and only by being who I am can I face it with my friends and family behind me.”
“All your family?” asked the scorpion slyly.
“All that are important to me.” she said defiantly.
“Then prove your ability to win. Show that you will care for your family. Evil stirs in the desert. You must come.”
“I know nothing of the desert.” she replied. “For it is far from my home. No family of mine resides in it.”
“You must learn. It is for you to save your family. Come, look to your right and see your path.”
She looked and saw rose-colored towers in a deep chasm instantly familiar to her.</p><p>“I must go here?” she demanded.
“It is the first marker.” the scorpion said.
“But where-” she began but stopped. The scorpion had gone. In her palm was a cool brown stone upon which the sign of the scorpion had been etched.
Hot dry wind slammed into her body, throwing dust and dirt in her eyes. Blinking she found herself swept away from the desert towards waking life, carried by a strange drumbeat, and a shadowy figure of a girl.