Descending Road - AGAINST THE FIERY SANDS by Dana W. Paxson

AGAINST THE FIERY SANDS

1544 4D

Mharhthail looked down at the rose and reddened sand. Her bright toes wiggled: a gas planet of a mighty star settled, its magnetism beating soft cadences that made its migratory creatures swerve, their planes of propulsion deflecting delicately; far off, an infant star kindled in a glowing cloud of hydrogen, its few newly-captured satellites blushing at their first dawn.

A tiny wisp of flesh and scales fell from the corner of Mharhthail‘s mouth. The sweet and salt taste of the music drew her juices forth, still in hunger; she spoke pale light, “Aah. It is never enough.”

Drhoinhfigh responded, “No. The singing of the kharsh could feed us forever.”

Fanhlhaothim said, shadow-worded, “What a shame that we have to root among the scums of Tarnus to find food.” She cast aside the now-dry tail of her fish.

Mharhthail stared far out over the slackening waves of the emerald and grass-green ocean. The horizon shone gold-green, flickering monstrous blue-hot lightnings. “Humans and their kind are Arohsa‘s gift to us,” she said, her glowing words sketching firefly zigzags against the night sky. “We should thank Arohsa that we have them.”

The soft skeletons of the innerspace fish, sprung from the kharshfainh‘s melodies, beat a still rhythm of white bones against the fiery sands.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	AGAINST THE FIERY SANDS 1544 4D Mharhthail looked down at the rose and reddened sand. Her bright toes wiggled: a gas planet of a mighty star settled, its magnetism beating soft cadences that made its migratory creatures swerve, their planes of propulsion deflecting delicately; far off, an infant star kindled in a glowing cloud of hydrogen, its few newly-captured satellites blushing at their first dawn. A tiny wisp of flesh and scales fell from the corner of Mharhthail‘s mouth. The sweet and salt taste of the music drew her juices forth, still in hunger; she spoke pale light, “Aah. It is never enough.” Drhoinhfigh responded, “No. The singing of the kharsh could feed us forever.” Fanhlhaothim said, shadow-worded, “What a shame that we have to root among the scums of Tarnus to find food.” She cast aside the now-dry tail of her fish. Mharhthail stared far out over the slackening waves of the emerald and grass-green ocean. The horizon shone gold-green, flickering monstrous blue-hot lightnings. “Humans and their kind are Arohsa‘s gift to us,” she said, her glowing words sketching firefly zigzags against the night sky. “We should thank Arohsa that we have them.” The soft skeletons of the innerspace fish, sprung from the kharshfainh‘s melodies, beat a still rhythm of white bones against the fiery sands.