The wind brought a thrum to the horizon, and the desert sands began to flow as the moon rose. The rustle of leaves, and the tickle of bits of sand along Rhaak's skin gave him goosebumps, and he cursed to Allah under his breath. There was only a minute or two left on the fish once Amira the Sorceress spoke, and the slave twitched a bit at her stirring. Her voice had an alluring yet commanding quality. 

"[i]Your thoughts are like rice upon a drum[/i]."

"It is...not my place to question you, master." He said, and briefly he felt like lying. Before the thought passed through his head entirely, he dismissed it. He did not know if she could read minds, but he would not risk such a thing. And as his father had told him many years ago: [i]El Kidb Maloosh Reglein[/i], lying has no legs. 

He fell down onto his rump, placing his strong hands on the ground to hold himself up. He had been rowing all day, and though he was strong, he was also famished. Rhaak had not been given the best of treatment in the pit arena, but his previous master had usually made sure he was well fed to keep himself able to fight for his greed. "The Sultan's ire will follow us to the western sea or the city of Raghba Shahar." He said. "My family was killed by the Sultan for embarrassing a guest. If we evaded his Jannissaries, he will be as angry as a wrathful Ifrit." 

He didn't seem particularly fearful. But he felt as if he should speak aloud his thoughts, as she had bade him. The sweeping shadows of the sparse trees danced along the clearing floor. Rhaak turned from the fire, and handed her his master's portion of the fish. "These hills are cursed as well, I feel." He told her, a cold chill having settled into his spine as they had landed. There were reasons much of the desert was not settled, and it was more than just the heat. Ancient secrets and dangers lurked in the wilderness.

Just before Rhaak took a bite for himself, he heard the most bone chilling screech crack through the silence and shatter his hopes for a peaceful meal. It was passed the brush, among the hills to the south. "By Allah!" The voice cried, carrying a wail that was followed by shouts and curses. The Pit Fighter flung himself up between his master and whatever was occurring, and what he saw past their meager camp was gruesome. Four men, or three now, held their swords and hacked at creatures out of nightmares. 

Loping corpse-beasts with jagged teeth and skin mottled grey feasted on the still warm corpse of a bandit, as the other bandits fought for their lives, swords glinting in the darkness as desperately tried to drive away the Ghuls. There was little mercy from Hayashim this night, for even as the Ghuls were hacked down, the others advanced without a care of injury and leaped upon the men with gnashing teeth, mounting the bandits in a lustful parody as they tore their throat out. 

Only one bandit managed to escape the circle of doom, sprinting towards the only safe haven he could see and calling for help, promising anything if the two would save him from these beasts... 
[@Penny]