Walleye comes meandering back on a very strange hairy horse that looks somewhat familiar right as Cain and I can spot Ester’s skin, or what I figure is the closest to skin; the texture is somewhere between thick leather, loose canvas, and wood. 

The skin is like the chain armor of a traveling knight I once saw while pulling a cart, small metal plates and chainmail; there’s pale grey skin covered in fine bristles in between the leathery ‘plates’ on the surface, and the sandwhale I’m on shifts when I brush them with my palm. Ester must be ticklish eh? Or maybe it’s uncomfortable; either way, I apologetically pat the plate-like section before shifting to sweep off the rest of the sand as Cain told me to; dunno why the sandwhale suddenly had to have all this damnable sand removed when it was fine even when it was plastered in it before with no issues but I guess it keeps the boredom at bay. The top is mostly free of sand, save a light dusting because it’s sand and we’re in a hearth-forsaken desert.

I dread having to sweep off the rest of this beast.

“Good job you two!” Walleye called out to the both of us, walking that weird horse over close beside him. Wow, that is one dubious-looking horse, with weird swollen goat-feet and a hunch in the middle of its back sticking up like a boil or- wait I think this is a camel. Walleye distinctly mentioned the humps they have; did he bring this over to prove this animal exists? That…is weirdly in character for him.

Forget praise, let’s get to the point: “Will we have to dig out this sandwhale before she leaves the ground?” I ask, frowning at the thought.

Walleye laughs and shakes his head before pointing behind us, where the previously sedate sandwhale is slowly wiggling her way out of the ground, her massive size only increasing with each wiggle. I think it’s safe to call her a proper hill at this point, which makes it ridiculous to consider that she’s not fully grown and considered a ‘runt’ for her species. Absolute nonsense I say.

Her horn, spearing into the sky, is the third of her facial horns, though the others are more shovel-like and wide, curl around what I assume to be her forehead and there are her eyes, closed save for a milky-looking slit near the bottom. Sandwhales must be sensitive to light because the eyes close fully when Ester wiggles forward, dislodging her second pair of clawed fin-looking legs; Considering how slowly she’s moving above sand, it’s not a big surprise that her species is mostly underground dwelling.

Good thing too, because they probably can’t run; maybe they can roll over their enemies? Wait, horns might break, never mind.

“-il, Sybil, Sybil!” A shake on my shoulder snaps me back into the present. Drat. The present is mediocre at best and yet I gotta exist in it. Constantly. It’s a pain. 

“Something you want?” I ask Walleye, who’s been shaking my shoulder like some sort of rude person. But I’ve also been zoning out so I guess I’m also rude; equivalent rudeness.

“Ester’s mostly out of the sand, do you want to clean the port or starboard, and do you want more of the tail or head? Both have their risks.”

Yeah, I’ll bet.

Instead of figuring out what the hearth the strange terms meant, I instead just pointed at the side of Ester’s head that was closer to me with my broom.

“Ah, a fellow port preferrer eh? My kind of human,” Walleye said before laughing and clapping my shoulder, hauling me to the sandwhale’s expectedly sandy body, though most fell off during the ground exit wiggle.

I heft my broom with determination and clean as far up as I can reach, which isn’t much even after the broom. I turn to Cain, who’s scrubbing the upper lip with a nonchalant expression. At my poke, he turns and looks down at me.

I point up at the sandy flanks, “Throw me,” I request before I’m hefted and tossed like I wanted. It was a little difficult to aim my broom midair but once I got the angle right, it was easier than shaving a goat; my broom line stood out from the rest of the skin starkly.

 Cain and I looked at each other wordlessly. 

It was a race to see if Cain’s arms gave out or if I got too dizzy to aim my broom properly.

We both eventually lost, with me sliding down Ester’s rough and sandy hide face-first.

It was less than pleasant. 

Passenger showed up with Cabinet and Wood, each holding their brooms to fuss at our ‘human silliness’ and then got so annoyed I saw her tail lash when I asked about what would be considered ‘elf silliness’ hehe. She applied a bandage where skin broke so I guess she isn’t too annoyed with me.

With the sandwhale fully dusted off, or as much as she can be in a hearth-forsaken desert, we began painting on her with the very brooms we used to clean her off with this mint-smelling oil. I tried to draw with it, but a broom isn’t great for doodling somehow. After my drawing of a dog was mangled into something that looks like a tortured cow due to clumsiness, I gave up and just painted on swirls like the rest of the group, they probably did it like that for a reason.

“All right everyone, head over to the spiders!” Walleye announced after our impromptu art session finished. Standing to the side of a spider,…Fluffy I think the name was, My leg was weighed down as per usual by Mimzy. I indulge in this final leg weight session and shift accordingly. Alright, everyone’s away from the sandwhale, now what?

Ester opened her upper nostrils and a gust of sandy air shot into the air, forming a small cloud hanging like smoke from a pipe. I watched it puff open and close like she was sniffing before her legs- front, middle, and back- clumsily pushed against the ground and I choked back a shout of surprise when she flopped onto her side before rolling onto the other. Coating her oil-covered skin. With sand. 

After I spent hours wiping off the sand and anointing her with oil.

I’m going to be the first human to strangle a sandwhale.

Cain picked me up before I could lunge at the ungrateful beast and shushed me, “It’s just the way things are done between sandwhales and their elves, tradition, and their covenant; it’s not our place to judge. Besides,” he laughs sardonically, “It only happens once every seven years.”

“How annoying that I get to be ‘lucky’ enough to experience this then,” I complain.

“Hey, if you follow elves, then this is the best way to track the time when it comes to years.” Cain shoots back at me. I roll my eyes before turning to look at the reddening sky. My heart hurts a little for some reason.

“I need to leave now, or I’m going to stay until I’m as old as you,” I murmur, ignoring Cain’s scandalized gasp behind me. I wiggle out of his loosened grip and walk over to the elf family that’s been so very kind and giving to me this entire trip to tell them,

“I need to leave now,” I tell them before blinking past a strange blurriness in my eyes. Cabinet and Wood run over and hug me tightly, followed by Passenger but I keep my gaze on Walleye, who’s frowning for some reason before he finally nods with a tight expression on his face.

“Grab your bag and I’ll get your pay. Meet me by my spider.” Walleye says, voice low.

I nod and then work my way out of the elf-tangle to leave.

HelloHound

Wow it's hard to separate from these elves...