The sky vanished. Borne on the backs of ravenous winds, the sands raged, swallowing the infinite, cloudless blue. With its demise failed the sun, the day reduced to unseemly dusk. A howl tore through the desert, and the ground shook and groaned in protest.
Caught in the heart of the storm's onslaught were two figures. Indistinguishable in their roan hoods and cloaks, clutched jealously to themselves lest the furious gales snatch their protective gear from their bodies and leave them naked to the harshest of nature’s whims, they trudged onwards, struggling to stay afoot, fighting to stay alive.
Ankle-deep in the shifting, sinking sand, the first of the two travelers, a Priestess, led the way. Her stride was clumsy, encumbered by the sand that weighed her feet down, and yet filled with unshakable purpose, a firm resolve that was marred only by the slightest hint of desperation in her eyes. The second, a Wizard, lagged behind a short distance.
"We're not going to find it in this storm!" he shouted to the woman in front of him. His voice was coarse, raw from too much yelling to be heard over the din.
The Priestess neither halted nor turned.
"Well say something," the Wizard implored.
She did not even break her stride.
"Okay, okay," he screamed, the sand scratching at his throat. "You win. I'll ask the next person we see."
Opening: Michael C. Logarta.....Continuation: Anon.