Chapter 1

As the shadows fell silently forward from the rough-hewn walls of the pit, MaWu’s thoughts could not help but turn to the day she discovered the guillotine, and the carnage that had enveloped her every waking memory as silently those falling blades held true. For the desert was not so still then, and neither were its occupants lonely. No, then they had each other and each other was enough.
Her dress, dyed in the colors of fallen leaves she had never seen, flapped violently in the wind behind her as her short stubby legs struggled to keep up over the cool morning sand. She smiled, her lungs gasping for air as she overcame the dune in front of her. Her arms were splayed on all fours, as if she were a mad beast. What lay beyond the dunes? What did she long for? Older and wiser, she could not quite recall.
For MaWu's younger self still held a sense of wonder that had long since abandoned her, a feeling that sent shivers through her heart at the heavenly sound of her grandmother's song. That tune was carried far and wide over the rolling dunes of the Pekadogo, as the old women of the tribe beat their rugs in harmony.
Giggling, MaWu reached the summit, her round chubby face popping up over the sand as she clenched the more solid ground in her small little hand. With a devilish grin she called behind her in a half whisper, "Djeira come on, they're almost done!"
MaDjeira, her younger sister, grunted in frustration. Her hat had fallen over her face once again, a common occurrence in the life of a girl far too small for her father's old cap. She stumbled, tripping over an errant stone and face planting just before the dune's crest.
Through some act of superhuman strength, MaWu stifled a laugh.
"Need help, sweet girl?"
MaDjeira nodded in shame, face still in the sand, and letting out the slightest giggle, MaWu lent her a hand.
WHAP
The two scaled the ridge, planting themselves on solid ground and skirting into the shadows.
WHAP
The old women in the village beat their laundry in unison.
WHAP
Under the shade of a hundred colorful tapestries the two girls moved as one, light afoot, giggles in tow.
WHAP
A few old women eyed each other knowingly, not missing a beat of their song.
WHAP
MaMalala, the fiercest of them all, lead the singing with vigor. Her voice rang deep and soared above the rest.
WHAP