Character Exploration #3

She traveled across the desert on an old bicycle dragging behind a tiny dust-clad teardrop trailer. She never had a name, though her customers called her many names, most of which weren’t worth repeating. The craggily skinned-ones took one look at her glossy black horns protruding out from behind her ears, curled around her face, and called her sister. They traded ctenoid scales harvested from the sea’s sirens, pried off while still alive, she’d often say. It was not true. The brief pause between their exchange of half a pound of dreamer dust made the notation entirely worth it.

Others, the ones made of volcanic rock, whose ember glow shone through beneath the thin cracks of their flesh- they caught sight of her ruby clawed hands, took them in their own, and said, “Help.” With a headshake, she would slip away, move on from their village without staying to rest. They never bought anything from the witch. Not with merchandise like eyes and teeth, nails and scales, and the rare vial of blood with a name scrawled across the front. Even she did not know its purpose. She only made the deliveries, collected dust, and browned further beneath the relentless summer sun.
Her long paisley patched skirt billowed around her legs as she pedaled across the desert grasslands, never catching on the spokes. Occasionally, she pulled a strand of short bleached hair from her face, which whipped behind her along with the faint breeze. From traveling the same route for so long, she could practically ride with her eyes closed. She had miles to go before the next stop at one of the major cities, her last in the circuit before going back to the facility to restock. But she would not return.