He knows not where he is, nor how he got here. There are no trees, no huts constructed from scrapped metal and wood, but houses of stone. They stand in the distance alike a white wall, blinking in the sunlight. And there is the ocean. Ilian has never seen it before, only heard tales of emo krasha. As he stands, Ilian feels the soft sand beneath his leather boots and the wind in his hair. The air tastes of salt. He does not understand, merely stands in awe, eyes attempting to soak up all the new impressions.
And then he sees her.
There is a woman standing by the sea, her dress fluttering in the wind. For a moment he stands frozen, staring at the figure much taller than women he knows. She appears almost of a different world, a creature of myth rather than someone real. It takes him a while, but finally the desire to know where he is takes over and he approaches her. Maybe she’s floukru?
Hands raised in a gesture of peace, Ilian stands but a few feet away from the strange woman. He notices her ears have a strange shape. Frikdreina? He has only heard of those people, those who have deformed limbs, who are cast out by their clans. But she does not look like one. She is so clean.
‘ Chon yu bilaik? ’ He asks, hoping he will not frighten her. ‘ Weron kamp oso raun? Yu laik kom floukru? ’
@nenindis