Kala Wukar.
She who walks the desert.
She who is one with the sand.
She who is one with Arrakis.
The girl who he dreamed of long before she came to him in reality.
Aphra of Arrakis. The Desert Walker.
(Dune; Paul Atreides)
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chapter twelve: the water given
The entrance of the sietch made way to a narrow hallway. The walls were etched with inscriptions throughout, even as the hallway grew out into a much bigger space. Every carving was intentional and beautiful, highlighted by thin streaks of light from the sky.
"Sietch Tabr," Stilgar introduced to the newcomers.
Aphra felt her body sag in relief that she was finally home. And a smile pulled at her lips when she heard the rumbling chatter of her family as they approached.
The voices stopped as soon as they made their way into the large main room. The stares of the Fremen fell on Stilgar first, then on Aphra, and then on Paul and Jessica.
Stilgar greeted them, only to receive anger in return. The Fremen shouted and glared in outrage at what their leader had brought them. Two outsiders who knew nothing of their pain and suffering.
Aphra stood close behind Paul as he continued to hold up Jamis' body, "They'll get used to you. They're actually quite nice. Please don't hold a grudge against them for their hesitation."
Paul just gave her a simple nod. Looking into the blue eyes of the Fremen that surrounded him struck him with a feeling of smallness that he had never felt before. The judgment they pushed upon him. The anger. It had never been more apparent to him how much of a blessing it was to have met someone like Aphra first. One who was a warrior, but one who had a heart of pure gold.
"Jamis! Jamis!" they shouted for the corpse.
"You killed Jamis!"
"Spies!"
"Witch!"
Aphra reached behind her to lay her hand on Jessica's arm, guiding the woman closer to her. The hands that had reached to lay on Paul and Jessica stopped short as Aphra would intentionally move in their way.
A Fremen man burst through the crowd, bowing his head to Paul, "They don't know what they're saying. Lisan al-Gaib! Lisan al-Gaib!"
The calls for their messiah became louder than the anger. The roots of prophecy and religion held much deeper and stronger than their suspicion.
~
Aphra shoveled a spoonful of food in her mouth, having not eaten well in many days. Shishakli sat slightly behind her, moving between eating and braiding Aphra's long hair. The girl had changed from her blood-soaked clothes and removed the bandages from her healing wounds. The golden jewelry she always wore shone much brighter after being brushed off too.
Shishakli tugged on Aphra's hair to get her attention, "That foreigner keeps looking at you."
Paul was indeed staring. Aphra had felt his eyes on her the whole time, but she never minded.
