Orrin, Transported
(I'm finally writing Orrin's story!! Think of this as like a part 1 of it :> see here for a quick introduction on him) <cw: heat exhaustion, dehydration, tied>
The sun seemed to beat down on him, pushing him closer to the ground with every breath he took. The sand scraped at his tired legs that shook with fatigue. It had been days since the caravan had left the trading post, making barely any stops along the way. Orrin only hoped that the animals pulling the wagons in front of him were faring better than he was. The rhythm of the walk was the only thing keeping him sane. Step, step, pull. Step, step, pull. The rope on his hands tied to the wagon in front of him pulled him along as his strength slowly left him. Step, step, pull. Step, step, pull. He had expected to be hauled away in his cage as the last people had transported him, but these people had saved his cage for some hogs they had purchased at the last town's market. They reasoned that he could walk, and they needed the room in the wagons for more of their 'valuables' that they refused to leave behind. So he was pulled along. He looked down at his hands, bound tightly in old rope that had once been an animal lead; and at the old blood caking the loose fibers to his skin. Was that all he was now? Livestock to humans?
How long had it been since that bastard of a trapper had caught him back in his home village? A month? Two? Maybe only a few weeks? Time seems to flow differently when your worst nightmare has come true.
A breeze blew past, rustling the leaves in the sprout atop his head. They were dull and starting to dry, browning slightly at the edges. It hurt, but he had dealt with it before. There were summers back in his tribe that were dry and barren- nearly everyone had some sort of damage happen to their soul plant. Many people had their leaves dry or crack- some even had a few leaves fall. But unlike then, there were no healers to help cure the pain, and apothecaries to make a salve and ease the discomfort. All he could do was to try not to think about it. Step, step, pull. Step, step, pull. He tried to let his mind go blank, to pretend he was anywhere else. Step, step, pull. He felt sweat trickle down his face, and he pointlessly begged himself to stop- he couldn't lose any more moisture. It had been so long since he last had water. He didn't know when - or if - he would ever have it again. He couldn't waste any of the bit he had left sweating.
The caravan of wagons finally came to a stop, and the world around him spun. It was then he realized just how exhausted he was. He knew he was tired, but stopping the rhythm of his mindless movement pulled him out of his dulled haze. His whole body trembled. He looked behind him at the series of animal and wheel tracks, followed by his own footprints. They seemed to grow and stretch into the sand, warping in strange patterns. Some people started to get out of the wagons and tend to the camel and oxen pulling them along. He felt relieved for them as he started to get dizzier than he already was. Someone was approaching him. He swayed as they got closer, his fatigue and dehydration catching up to him. He struggled to keep his eyes open... they seemed to be speaking to him. At him? Through the ringing in his ears he could barely make out,
"...ast stop... on't die.... expensive"
That was all he could understand before he passed out, head hitting the sand.
It was almost cruel how softly the ground held him.