The bronze sand is sparkling.

It’s a different sparkle from its predecessor. It blends into the surroundings, making the sand look like a roiling sea compared to the icy blue of before.

I shift from my spot on a dune and eye the boundary between colors. It’s oddly defined. There’s a straight line where the blue meets bronze, and yet, despite the unyielding border, it’s not jarring to look at. It’s like there’s a filter that turns the physical divide into a seamless transition.

The line stretches as far as I can see, divided by a dozen twisting streams. It’s chaotic, like the river delta lost track of where it was supposed to end and instead lapped all over itself.

Does that mean there’s fresh water somewhere? It might be possible, in the conundrum of streams, that some might originate from a source outside the ocean. If so, it solves my water problem.

… but not the food problem.

I look down at the blue sand and grimace. I’m alive because of this sand. I would’ve died in a day without this sand. I wish I never have to taste it again. But, survival takes precedence, which means I can’t throw away a food source.

It also means I should gather more before I leave the blue desert, and while I’m at it, check to see if my current stash of it has disappeared. Yay…blue sand…

Why do I have to be so practical?

Curse you Blue Sand!

I shift and rotate my shoulder, twisting to slip the strap off my shoulder when something catches my eye.

Movement.

I freeze, flattening against the sand, and squint at the hills of bronze.

It’s hard to make out. There’s the slightest shift of the horizon, and I wonder if it’s a mirage at first, but then…. it happens again.

It’s not white, and the little bubble of relief pops when another shape joins the first, and then another shape…and another.

They’re slow, slow enough that I have time to retreat several dunes back before the shapes reach the first stream. The movement disappears, presumably into the water, before it bobs back up, shifting on the horizon. It’s only as the shapes crest the final bronze dune that I properly make them out.

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There are actually five of them, and they’re not…human.

The coloring is darker than the sand, and their bodies…

I try to find an appropriate comparison, but passing images are a jumble of parts and I try to match them with the creatures in front of me. Their skin is leathery, like a lizard, with a tapering snout. Their ears are long and floppy, fastened against their head with a band. The legs are like a rabbit, long and bent, knees nearly touching their chest. There’s no tail, like I’d expect, not that I can see.

They’re all wearing garments, and I use the term loosely, because even at a distance it appears that it’s a haphazard patchwork of rags. It hangs loose on the creature’s frames, highlighting their gaunt features.

The five of them pause at the blue line. Their gazes shift back and forth, eyeing the dunes around them.

I hold perfectly still. They shouldn’t see me, if I understand my cloak correctly, but there’s no point in risking it.

The creature at the front bends down, its knees reaching up to its chin. A three fingered hand extends from its sleeve, stretching towards the line. Its companions are nervous, shifting and watching, clearly more agitated the closer their companion gets to blue. The movement is glacially slow, shifting centimeters at a time and I wonder what has them so spooked.

The wolf maybe? Or was it the light I saw in the water?

Finally, after painstaking caution, the creature scoops up a handful of granules. A curious jumble of noises pours from its mouth. It’s a strange pitch of hisses and the creatures around it respond immediately, snatching sand from its hand. The movement is both desperate and careful, deliberate in not jostling the outstretched sand.

The moment they have it in their mouths the hisses turn to sighs, the noise softening to a murmur. Their expressions are hard to identify considering the difference in anatomy, but I guess that it's relief.

Were they starving?

The creature who picked up the sand originally tips its portion into its mouth. Its companions watch on, unaffected by what I know is now a stab of bitterness, and they hiss out their own fluctuating notes until the first one reaches back toward the sand. The moment is less cautious this time, eager even. Its companions no longer look back and forth, but instead fixed their gazes on the outstretched fingers.

It passes the divide…

And a spike pierces the palm.

A screech splits the air and the wounded creature clutches its palm. The others stumble back, long legs leaping back in a single motion. Another spike impales the creature’s chest, rocketing it away from the line. It falls in a heap – motionless.

Its companions shake, twisting away from the body, but a hail of spikes shoot through the air pinning the furthest two into the sand. The sudden blockade causes their companions to stumble over the bodies. They flail, struggling to right themselves, but spikes puncture their torsos, driving the limbs to stillness.

It’s over in minutes.

The bodies are a crumpled heap, white liquid leaking out of their wounds.

Dead.

I feel myself trembling, my eyes fixed on the bodies. What…what even happened?

My eyes follow the angle of the spikes and I cautiously peer toward the nearest river. There’s a ripple. Then a tall, pale humanoid rises up out of the water. Its head is bare and a hooked nose casts a shadow where a mouth should be. Seven other figures rise up beside it.

They all look at me.