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Tally had never really examined why she’d become a children’s photographer. Yes, it was the first work she’d gotten in Seattle, but why babies and toddlers? Why leggy little girls and wide-eyed boys torn between childhood and adolescent?
And with the glimpse of swirling sand darkening the horizon Tally realized it wasn’t by accident. She photographed the faces of children to learn her own.
There’d been no real childhood for her. No time to indulge in play. No fantasy and fancy, no dress up, no costumes, no baton lessons or classes of gymnastics and ballet. No ice skating—where would the money come from, honey? Besides we need you here.
A lump filled Tally’s throat but she didn’t dwell on the emotion, not when the horizon seemed to turn black before her very eyes.
Just moments ago the horizon had looked dark, muddy with swirling sand but it wasn’t muddy anymore. It looked eerie, frightening.
Her steps faltered. With her heart in her throat she realized she was walking straight into a sandstorm.
CHAPTER FOUR
TALLYturned, looked behind her, wondering where she could go, how she could protect herself. But there was nowhere to go. And as she watched, the cloud and wind of sand grew, stretching from her feet far overhead as if even the sky was made of beige and brown. The pale sun disappeared and the afternoon grew ominously still.
Goose bumps covered Tally’s arms and lifted the hair at her nape. She felt the danger, felt the heaviness in the sky, the weighty silence of impending doom. The sandstorm was growing, building, billowing like a sci-fi monster come to life.
There was no sound anywhere. No sound of anything but the stillness of the desert and yet to Tally it was like a roar, a scream. The sand monster breathes, she thought, wrapping her arms around her upper body, fingers pressing tightly against her skin as the blackness sailed toward her.
I’m going to perish here. This is where it ends. And I don’t even have my camera.
She tried to laugh at her feeble humor in the face of abject terror but her laugh was a hiccup and her gaze clung sickeningly to the huge black whirling wall of sand very nearly on her now.
This is it. This is all. This is how it ends.
And then from nowhere came the sound of hooves, fast furious thudding hooves and turning Tally saw a blur of horse and man as Tair on his flying black horse raced toward her, leaning low on his stallion’s back and with one arm he scooped her up, lifting her onto his saddle in front of him. And he never slowed, not even to grab her, or settle her. Instead he pushed her low against the horse’s neck and he dropped his body over hers urging his stallion on, and they were running for their lives, running against sand and storm and monsters shaped from the vengeful desert wind.
They were riding toward a rock that protruded from the land, something Tally had seen only from afar and had never thought twice about but now that they were closer she could see crevices in the rock, openings like little caves and Tair rode there now. The wind storm with its pelting sand began to bite at their skin, sharp cuts and stings and Tally covered her mouth and nose to keep from sucking the sand in.
“Get in,” Tair shouted above the storm’s roar. He half-dropped, half-tossed her toward the cleft in the rock and as terrified as she was of scorpions and snakes she knew they were a safer option.
Tally crawled swiftly in, and Tair followed, dragging his horse’s head in after him, holding the reins tightly so his stallion couldn’t escape.
With the sharp rock pressed to her back and Tair pressed to her front Tally closed her eyes and listened to the howling storm outside.
If Tair hadn’t come…
If Tair hadn’t gone in search of her…
And her eyes burned, and despite her tightly closed lids she could feel small hot tears prick and sting, could feel her throat squeeze.
This was not the way she liked to live life.
This was not her life.
She was going to have adventures, yes, and she’d see the world, but it’d be her way. In her time. She’d explore and venture out but she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.
Wouldn’t be dependent on anyone.
Wouldn’t need anything from anyone, either.
Tair’s horse shook his head unhappily several times, shifting from foot to foot as the howling outside became a shrieking crescendo.
“Your horse is unhappy,” she said, feeling the stallion’s discomfort, knowing the pelting sand must be biting through his hide.
“He’s not the only one unhappy,” Tair said tersely.
It was dark in the cavern, and yet tilting her head back she could just make out Tair’s hard features but they didn’t appear harsh as much as set. Fixed. Determined.
