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It was early afternoon when the exile and his companion left Pegasus Den. Nobody watched the nameless depart save Niabi, the tears in her eyes doing their best to cloud the vision of her love departing. Perhaps if her eyes misted and blurred enough, he would not really be gone. This hour of the day was neither the best nor most auspicious time to start a journey, and Nahimanas blessing was brief. However, this sort of adventure was not one of cultural habit, and such things are best done immediately and without delay. There was no snow on the ground, but still the air was cold and nippy, forcing Nahimana to huddle the thin blanket he carried with him tight around his ailing shoulders. Centaur normally did not wear any clothing, but elders were excused if they wished to carry a blanket for warmth. For the Highlands could be very cold in the winter. The two moved quickly, hooves galloping along, finding well known trails that snaked up hills and through valleys. The familiar smokestacks of Pegasus Rests evening fires quickly became nothing more than a wisp of light gray at their backs. They traveled north for several leagues, Howakhan choosing the shorter of the two main paths to their destination, the Talil mountain range. North lied the perilous desert, that no Centaur had ever crossed and returned, but that path was much faster, and Howakhan believed that their cause was just, and Ari would lead them through that burning land where all others had failed. The southern pass was still dangerous, taking them straight through foreign human lands, where they would be killed as raiders if they were caught. It would snake far to the southeast, around the great cut, and then north again, going through the lands of the Tribes to the northern range. Few words were spoken between the two, for as is to be expected from those recently exiled from their home, this was a time of contemplation. Nahimana watched the sky carefully as their god slowly set far to the great west, while Howakhan kept his eyes forwards, looking at the teasing silhouettes of the mountains in the distance. They could see them whenever they reached a hilltop, blue and white hazy statues far to the north. As the sun set the pair set up camp, nestled between a pair of tall hills where the winds could not reach them. They had little tools for building fires or other niceities of a campsite, but this mattered little. Howakhan gathered bits and scraps of dry wood, Nahimana lighting them with his magics. While fire magic was quite destructive by nature, it had many practical uses as well. Sitting by the campfire, the centauri conjuror filled their drinking gourds, pulling ether out of the void and transforming it into pure, clear drinking water. While the old one rested Howakhan searched the immediate area, returning with two small highland rabbits. It was a good meal, and though they shared it like family, they still did not speak of the journey or their intentions. The exiles awoke, snuffing out their campsite and setting off with a short prayer to the sun god, Ari greeting them with his warm embrace as he rose to the east. It was only a few hours before they could see it now, reaching an especially tall hill at the northern end of the Freelands. Howakhans eyes widened as he looked out upon their foe, the great and perilous desert, called the Land of Bones by the centaur. He had seen it before on long hunts, but it was always some phantom in the distance, a demon that reminded one of worlds they knew nothing about. It had always seemed so very far away. Now it was close, looming, swallowing the very ground before them. The highlands poured into it and it ate them whole, the hills becoming smaller and smaller, weaker and weaker as they descended into dunes and endless sand. While the highlands were cold and familiar, some powerful enchantment destroyed the atmosphere within the great desert. Howakhan could already feel its heat, pushing into him as invasively as any disease. While above the desert the mountains could still be seen in the distance, when the pair looked down into the desert their depth perception failed them, some magic making it impossible to tell exactly how far it was between their vantage point and the haze in the distance. The desert seemed to be swallowing even the concepts of the natural world into its maw. However, Howakhan would not be deterred by legends, and he would not be deterred by hot winds and white sand. Taking his fill of the awesome sight before him, he descended, Nahimana following him into the land where it is said death herself must sleep. |