The sun bled across the desert sky as I rode slow and quiet, the sand muffling my horse’s steps, and that’s when I saw her. Walking alone, a small figure against the vast emptiness, moving with purpose, a jug strapped to her back, her clothes handmade and flowing like she belonged to another time. She didn’t see me at first, too focused on the cracked earth beneath her feet, scanning for signs of water or shade, I kept my distance, curious more than anything, watching how she moved like the desert was her home and I was the ghost. Something about her didn’t fit the world I knew...too real, too quiet, too untouched. So I followed, hidden by the dunes and silence, until her path curved toward a rise and I knew I’d have to show myself eventually.