I hope you enjoy this. I spent a lot of time writing this today when I could've (and should've) been doing homework.
Although, this is kind of for English class. Now I have my second portfolio writing done.
As always, let me know what you think and if you spy any typos.
Chapter 2
Three weeks after Greg's strange nocturnal flight into the desert, Mathra was at her wit's end. She couldn't think straight and regularly poured hot Bongi berry tea in her lap while staring with glazed eyes through the tent flap. It had been pinned up so she could sit inside and still watch the span of desert, in case Gregor ever came back. She rarely tended the small garden on the other side of the great rock, and it soon withered, leaving a cluster of tangled brown weeds.
As for herself, she felt like she was withering as well. The hut was filling up with an empty feeling, as their old house had been when Hami disappeared, but this time there was no husband to comfort her. She hadn't seen her old friends since her birthday last year; they rarely visited. Usually she didn't think much about it, but now she was beginning to miss the company.
Mathra jumped as she heard a sharp rap on the pole, dropping her glass of water - glass was very common in the desert, since it contained a limitless supply of sand - to the ground as she spun around. A woman stood in her doorway, slightly bent so she could see into the tent. On her face was an expression of confusion and disbelief. Her shoulder-length blond hair was clean and neatly combed, and she was wearing a plain linen dress. Intricately woven sandal straps were visible crossing over her feet.
"Who are you?" Mathra said, breathing rapidly. The woman's eyes grew even more confused and she cautiously stepped into the tent, straightening to her full height: about five and a half feet.
"It's Rachel Thorn," the woman said tentatively. "Remember?"
Mathra cocked her head and took on Rachel's expression.
"We used to be friends," Rachel said quietly. Mathra's eyes opened wide and she hurried to pick up her glass and grab another from the cabinet.
"I'm sorry! Do you want some tea? I've got a fire ready. I haven't seen you in so long, I..." Mathra rambled on and Rachel remained standing next to the table.
"I'm fine, thanks. I just thought I'd come by, since it's your birthday and all. Where's Gregor?"
Mathra froze, bent over the cabinet with an empty glass in her hand. A strand of hair flopped in front of her eyes. It was her birthday? The mention threw her so off guard that she almost failed to notice Rachel's question. When she did, she burst into tears and fell to her knees, setting the glass on top of the cabinet but still grasping it with white knuckles.
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Rachel stood at the table, unsure of what to do. Mathra was her friend, but she was hardly recognizable. Her hair was tangled and dirty, and it smelled like she hadn't washed for weeks. Red, puffy skin surrounded her eyes, and streams of water ran down her cheeks.
"What's wrong, Mathra?" Rachel finally asked.
"Everything," came the reply in between sobs. "Gregor has been gone for three weeks."
Rachel's thin eyebrows crinkled. "Where?"
Mathra turned, ratty hair dangling over her face. "Don't you remember?" Rachel shook her head, and Mathra blinked, holding back her tears. "Gregor has been going into the desert for a few days at a time for two years now. Just...lately, he hasn't been coming back for a while. The last time he was here, he had been out in the desert for two weeks, and he only stayed half the night. Now he's been gone three weeks."
"What does he do out there?" Rachel asked, mystified.
"Don't ask me. I've tried to ask him before - " Mathra turned away and gave a few loud sobs.
"I'm sorry. Here, I'll take that. Go wash up, I'll make us some tea," Rachel said, careful not to upset Mathra again. When Mathra didn't respond, Rachel pulled the glass from her clenched hand and set it down on the table. Mathra still knelt there, not making a sound.
"Are you ok?" Rachel asked, waving a hand in front of Mathra's face. Her eyes were glazed over and stared into space as if Rachel weren't even there. Maybe a little water would help wake her up. Rachel dragged her over to the spring and set her upright against the wall underneath the water.
Mathra remained sitting there, fully dressed, her eyes closed, letting the water splash on her head and trickle down her body. She needed her clothes washed, anyway. Rachel promptly got to work finding the Bongi tea leaves and a metal pot. After filling it with water above Mathra's head, she stepped outside to use the fire pit she had seen earlier.
Maybe her gift would cheer Mathra up. She took out the polished topaz amulet she had bought from a trader from the Hapke Jungle and looked deep into it. It was rare that anyone came through the mountains, especially with such precious ware; the mountains were dripping with thieves. Surprisingly, she had gotten it for a cheap price: only fifty coins. Even more surprisingly, after taking it to the village jeweler, he told her it was, in fact, real.
The deep yellowish stone glistened and twinkled in the sunlight. She couldn't imagine how someone could sell such a thing for such a cheap price. He couldn't possibly have been trying to get rid of it, but no other explanation came to her mind. She shook her head and got to work making the tea. Before too long, Mathra came outside, looking more awake than before.
"What was I doing in the spring?" Mathra asked, wet sand clinging to her feet as she gingerly walked toward Rachel.
"I put you there to wake you up. Now that you're all right, why don't you go wash up while the tea cools?" Rachel poured the hot water through a strainer into two glasses. "I'll show you your birthday present while we drink."
"Rachel Marianne Thorn," Mathra said teasingly. "Then you'll watch for Gregor? I don't want to miss him if he passes by."
"...Of course," Rachel replied, caught off guard by the question. Did she really think Greg was coming back?
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"Where is that miscreant?"
"Stop hiding, you coward!"
These were the shouts heard filling the Maruba village market. An angry mob of villagers swarmed through the bustling crossroad. Word on the streets had gotten out that a merchant from the jungle had been selling cursed trinkets at a cheap price...without mentioning the whole cursed part, of course.
The jewelry had already caused two women to die, burned from the inside out. Still more were developing warts all over their bodies, and some had even mysteriously disappeared. Unfortunately, the merchant had also disappeared, and now the angry villagers were searching the whole town for him.
Marco Thorn strode in between the rickety buildings, an iron hammer hanging ready at his side. There was always a chance that the merchant had left the village already, but there was an equal chance he was still here, hiding. That's why they were combing the streets for him. Unfortunately, they hadn't had any luck yet.
The description of the man rung through his head with every throb of his heart. Darker-skinned than most of the village, short, old, and wearing strange red, green and yellow feathery clothing. Eyes that glistened pale blue like moon pearls, crooked yellow teeth, a wide and flat nose. The grotesque images flashed through Marco's mind over and over.
The wind was picking up, and Marco's knee-length rust-colored tunic rippled in the breeze. Clouds of sand swirled around his feet, and he had to shield his eyes from the tiny particles flying at him. Before he knew it, he was standing at the edge of the village farthest from the mountains. He squinted into the haze and saw a strange silhouette at the top of the nearest sand dune.
It looked like a huge bird sitting atop the hill, but upon further inspection, it proved to actually be a short man covered in large feathers. The merchant turned his head and the cloudy, gray eyes seemed to pierce into Marco's very soul. They had no pupils.
Marco's throat swelled and he dropped to his knees, gagging. The wind turned into a gale, and grains of sand attacked his body like raining needles. Blackness was choking his vision, and he was about to faint when all of a sudden, the wind stopped dead. The sky was perfectly clear, as if there had been no sandstorm. The bizarre merchant was gone.
Upon arriving home, he noticed a note scribbled on a piece of paper lying on the desk.
"Gone to Mathra and Gregor's house. Be back soon. I love you! -Rachel"
That's right, he thought.
It's Mathra's birthday today, isn't it? I haven’t seen them in a while. I wonder if they'd mind if I dropped by? Besides, I need something to take my mind off this whole thing.
Beside the note lay a receipt etched on a small stone slate. A topaz necklace for fifty coins? Was that even - he froze in place. Was it even possible? Either Rachel had bought one for herself, or...
Horror crept into Marco's face. Was she planning on giving it to Mathra as a gift? She had probably left before the discovery about the merchant had been made. He was already out the door. If only he could reach the couple's house in time...