My robe was made of a smooth, thin, black cloth; it was lined inside with my stenchy sweat. There was no one, however, to see and appreciate its’ fine and expensive embroideries, save my trusted camel, Maseeh. She, just as exhausted as I, still pushed on in the midday sun.

We had already been walking for days. The journey from my small town to the nearest city, Buqua, was fourteen days of deep desert travel. I, Hassid, was travelling there on my first merchant endeavour. I planned to sell some textiles my mother had woven, in the public marketplace of Buqua.

The sheer heat had my head reeling, even before the dawnlight, when we set off in the morning. I carried nothing but a small pack of shortly rationed provisions and a few waterskins, some of which were already emptied.

The dunes spread out in every direction, like a dry, rough ocean, with it’s rising swells, but no other recognizable landmarks to be seen. Crossing dune after dune, only to see another on the horizon; my mind was numbed. 

O, but at long last, my eyes spotted what seemed to be a small, natural pool of water! The sun glinted on the surface of the water, tantalising me. Several dunes lay between us and the oasis. My heart leapt.

Maseeh’s pace had lessened with the past few days of travel. “Come on girl, we’re almost there. You can make it.” I told her. Thirst was getting to me as well, but Maseeh had not had water since our departure. Camels were the primary form of desert travel, as they can live on minimal water for long periods of time. Still, they certainly were not without their limits.

The day dragged, as we journeyed further across the dunes, in the direction of the oasis. At times, it fell out of view, as we travelled through valleys between the dunes. We managed to make it to the peak of the last dune. The sun was suspended not far over the horizon.

We entered the oasis, which consisted of a small formation of trees around a clear pool of water. Maseeh drank her fill, as did I. I filled my waterskins, then washed my robe, and finally bathed in the water. I slept in utter calm, the shade of the trees concealing the moonlight.

I awoke to a shocking bewilderment. The pool was gone! The trees were replaced by a dry, cracked rock formation. Multitudes of sand grains were caked onto the layer of dried sweat on my skin. My waterskins, indeed, had not been replenished,

So we travelled on, another day. My eyes would surely go blind from the relentless sunlight, thought I. Yet we endured, and we pushed ourselves to persistence. 

Not long past noon, we scaled the side of another dune, this one particularly steep. At its peak, I finally laid eyes on my destination. Buqua was a walled city, but its gates were open to all. I could see trade caravans arriving to the city; the tracks of their processions spread in all directions across the empty desert.

“Maseeh, worry no longer!” I said sincerely. “We must push on, just a bit further.” We did, until we finally reached the gates of Buqua. By this time, the sun had nearly set, not a bright white beacon but a fading orange light.

Maseeh drank from the water trough. I finished off my current waterskin, then found a well where I could refill them all. I bought a few apples, dates, and figs to treat us for our long journey. The dried jerky in my satchel was merely a travel ration.

By that time it had grown dark. Neglecting to find shelter and stable, we slept on the streets of Buqua that night. My heart raced as I tried to sleep; I planned for a successful endeavour as a merchant the next morning. 

Once again, I awoke to something wholly unexpected. Maseeh and I were not in the streets of a fabulous city. We were in some sort of ancient structure, some old and crumbled remains of a ziggurat of some sort, thought I. Only two of my waterskins remained full, and no food save the dried jerky was in my satchel. 

“We go on,” said I to Maseeh. Her eyes were most despaired. “It can’t be much farther.” So we walked on, on through the deserts of nothingness, traversing with heavy steps, slowed by the heatwaves. Could it be much farther, thought I? Surely, we must have travelled near to the City by now, thought I. Yet nothing appeared on the horizon, through morning, noon, until the evening, and dusk. 

“We must camp here, Maseeh,” I said, when the moon held dominance over the sky. “We are both in pain right now, Maseeh. But better to suffer in company than suffer alone.”

Watching the stars shimmer above me, through clear dark blue skies, I slept in the sand that night.  Again, I was shocked when I awoke. For Maseeh was gone! I looked behind me, across the dunes, and saw only the tracks left by a single man. My satchel, containing my mother’s textiles, my rations, and my last waterskin remained. 

“It can’t be much farther,” I told myself, and continued on.