Warriorlog #8. Magic?

An anonymous individual writes about her experiences —fantasy setting

A few nights ago there was a full moon. The sands of the desert were bright white against the sky and all the tiny creatures that lurk beneath them were visible in plain sight.

The market remained full while the moon was out. People stay busy as long as they can with the excuse of survival, but none of them were looking at the moon. They were only looking into their own purses.

I was looking at the sand dunes, still on a night without wind.

I felt like I was staring at the sea. I wondered where the ambassadors had gone next. They usually stay by the shore unless business carries them into the desert cities.

The only reason I own shoes is because the wife of an ambassador gave me a pair. Her husband brought me home thinking I was a lady for hire, a cheap one. I had just arrived in this town when that happened. He told me to shower and gave me some clothes, then let me sleep on his bed while he sat on a stool and watched. His wife saw me the morning after, untouched by the husband. She was so beautiful and kind. She and I sat and talked for a long time. The husband got angry at her because she was claiming my attention. She gave me a pair of shoes and I left the house through the window while they quarreled in the kitchen.

I wonder where their caravan is now, and whose else’s life they have improved by simply being themselves, flaws and all.

As I wonder, I sweep my hand from left to right and a dune seems to shift with it. I’m not sure if my hand moved the dune, if the dune moved my hand, or if fate had them both moving at the same time.