TALIMAR

"Hey! Talimar, your fish! Some bird just snatched it!" Gorren shouted, while Ram beside him waved his arms wildly. The bird, a silver streak in the air, beat its wings furiously with the fish clamped in its beak. The fishing line went taut, trembling as if it might snap at any second. Yet even in that tense moment, Talimar stayed calm. "Don't worry, Gorren. The line's still holding—" She pulled hard in the bird's direction, then quickly reeled in and jerked the rod the other way. In the few seconds the bird reeled from the sudden shift, she seized it right into her hands. Gorren, eyes wide, broke into applause. "What skill! Looks like you've done that a thousand times." "Plenty more than that," Talimar said with a smile. The bird, struggling in her grip, hadn't taken the hook—only the fish, clamped in its beak with the same desperate strength she once used to cling to life. She unhooked the line and let it go. The gray shape shot low over the water and vanished into the horizon. "Plenty more, huh..." Gorren watched the direction the bird had flown. "Sounds like you've been through a lot. Think you could tell Ram and me about it tonight over grilled fish?" "Sure!" Talimar tested her line, baited the hook, and cast again. "But first, we need to catch something worth cooking." That night, Gorren finally heard Talimar's tale. But the way she told it was so casual that even famine, in her voice, sounded ordinary. For now, let's leave her words aside and see what truly happened. Talimar's homeland lay in the most barren part of the Scorched Expanse, where the most precious thing of all was water. A single pool could keep a family alive, while a river could sustain a whole clan. She was born between rain and sand, raised by the short-lived summer river that flowed past her door. In summer, she'd watch the clear water lap over her toes, the fish breaking the surface in little bursts of bubbles. After the rains, termites would crawl from the soil, beginning their great mating flight. Migrating birds swooped down to feast, wings flashing as they darted through the swarm. Even here, in this harsh and empty land, life bloomed fiercely. In winter, she'd stand on dry earth, staring out at endless yellow dunes, the wind's coarse howl in her ears. She crossed the bare riverbed, stepping over smooth stones, as the scent of salty fish soup curled through the bitter wind, mingling with the murmur of familiar voices. That river was the clan's lifeline. It brought fish, nourished the soil on both banks, and gave the people a place to put down roots. The fish came only in the rainy season, so the clan perfected the art of catching and drying them for the long, lean winter. They knew the bait fish loved most, the best spots to cast nets, the tools that caught the biggest haul—but none could match Talimar, the girl who could reel in a whole pond with nothing but a single rod. Whenever the clan praised her skill, her father would straighten his back, offering modest words—"Oh, it's nothing"—while his pride swelled clear as day. Talimar never kept her methods secret, but advice like "feel the wind before you cast" and "sense the water's heartbeat as you reel" left even her father puzzled. Still, the barren ground couldn't grow strong roots, and the fragile peace was broken before long. Talimar was the first to notice something was wrong. The fish in the river were disappearing, and the air carried the harsh scent of swirling sand. The wind whipped dust into the yard, covering the crops' rough leaves with a layer of dry, yellow grit. Overhead, migratory birds called out in harsh voices, warning of what was coming. The rains grew scarcer, and the few green shoots in the fields began to wither and turn brown until all life was gone. Without water, the riverbed lay bare. Dust-covered stones baked under the scorching sun, seeming ready to crack. The clan rationed their stored food while searching for new sources. Old dried fish, brittle stalks of grass, insects from the earth, gritty sand... anything that could quiet the hunger gave a glimmer of hope. In this drought, the old and the young were the first to fall. The clan buried them beneath the riverbed, piling stones into cairns. These were both a ceremony to honor the dead and a silent pact among the living—to use everything they had, and survive. As Talimar stacked stones for her father's cairn, the grief was so deep it almost drowned out her hunger, but she couldn't afford to let tears fall. Lifting her head to hold them back, she saw wintering birds overhead, their harsh cries like a mournful dirge. Just watching them fly made her mouth water, and she longed to become a hawk and snatch them with one bite. Hunger clouded her thoughts, but Talimar's craving pushed her hand toward the fishing rod. Hooks flew through the air, scattering the birds, and exhaustion hit her. Finally, she calmed herself—without bait, there was nothing to catch. She dug into the hardened earth, letting the sharp grit cut her skin, and dug up the termites beneath. Using termites as bait and the sky as her river, Talimar's survival instinct finally reeled in a bird. She stared at the struggling creature in her palm. The warmth of its body broke her resolve, and tears finally fell. Talimar shared her bird-fishing technique with the others, and for the first time in a long while, pale, gaunt faces brightened with smiles. They raised their rods, holding onto this last hope. Thousands of migratory birds helped the clan endure a grueling year but the awaited rains never came. At last, they realized the land was saying goodbye. "Let's go. Only by surviving can we have a home," the clan said, packing their belongings in search of a new life. By the old riverbank, Talimar piled a giant cairn, bidding a final farewell to the land that had raised her. "If we're leaving, let's go farther," she decided, carrying her beloved fishing rod and walking in the opposite direction of her clan. Alone, Talimar set out to explore every waterway in Esperia, to catch all kinds of big fish and track down all kinds of birds. "First stop... the sea the cook once told me about." She hummed a childhood tune as she strode into the sunset.