Kiami

Kiami squinted against the sand and debris tossed in their face by a sudden gust. They wrapped the scarf tighter around their face and pulled the hood down over their brows. No matter how many times their tribe went through this, it never got any easier. As soon as they got comfortable, the headman came round, telling everyone it was time to pull up stakes. This land had been deemed unworthy, though more worthy than the last. They had to keep looking. Kiami had their own ideas on the true reason for their journey.

Their caravan was more than a thousand individuals strong. Adults, children, plus  burden beast, feeder animals, and hunting dogs. The needs of the caravan were many and taxed an area to its limit every time they stopped. 

Once, when they stopped at some ruins, Kiami came across an amulet, much like the one that hung from the headman’s neck. Kiami claimed it, risking a lashing or exile, before the headman saw it and ordered it smashed like all old tech they found. With a little tinkering in secret, its dormant face gradually came back to life. Every time they’d stopped, the arm on it pointed to a small blue patch. When they picked up to leave, it pointed to red on the opposite end. The complaints would start. There was no water for their burden beasts, for cooking or washing. The land was deemed unworthy then, and they started marching once more.

They’d been walking for weeks now and each time Kiami checked the meter, the dial’s arm ticked closer to the azure end. Hopefully, this time, the land would prove worthy for more than a few weeks.