The sun burned brightly in the sky as the wandering figure trudged through the sand. The figure was wrapped in blood stained cloth, rusty orange and dark greens splattered on their cloak like a color blind painting. The introduction to this chapter seemed awfully familiar, but the figure continued heading North-West.

It was there that the Desert Nomads made their first city of sorts, at the only oasis large enough to sustain a population of several thousand people. While the current number of Nomads was less than 500, the head planner always said to have enough for “spontaneous future growth in population”.

The singular Oasis was 17 miles long and about 15 miles wide; not exactly shaped like an egg when seen from above, and not exactly a perfect oval either, yet it was uncannily like both combined. Philosophically speaking, it was shaped more like the Platonic Ideal of an egg and oval shape combined. You kind of need to see a picture of it to really understand.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The Wanderer stopped. There, surrounding the corpse of a giant sidewinder, (and this thing is like, 59 feet long), was a roving pack of pet boulders. Not willing to fuck around and find out, the Wanderer headed east of the pack and circled around them, which took several days as pet boulders are highly territorial, and their claws are extremely sharp. Meanwhile, some other characters were experiencing character growth off-screen.

The giant sidewinder twitched and hit the wanderer, sending them flying north east, in the direc t i o n o f t h e

—-//—/-/-///-/-/////———/-/-/-/-/—/-/-//—//

Victor cried out as he swung his blacksmithing hammer down on the Queen Pet Mer-Rock, cracking open its chitinous shell and releasing the souls trapped inside. When the people of the town were finally freed from their semi-eternal torment, his other traveling companions cheered. The caravan was safe and the people could rest in peace.