Only the natural residents of the horribly dry land felt perfectly at ease in the blazing desert sun. The air felt like molten metal to the untrained civilian, and each breath was labored and dry, scratching at the throat. It felt like the air was the same consistency as grains that constantly shifted underfoot. Only the sparse mountains were exempt from at least a fraction of the blasting radiation of the sun, and that's where anyone with an ounce of sense would hold up. And yet, it made it easy to track fugitives.

The waves of heat provided at least one boon to the hapless wanderers that tromped through the yellow sea of fire. Almost two kilometers distant from where the majority of the Shepherds were resting among the sparse trees that dotted the desert, three men of varying sizes lay within the shimmering natural cover. They were observing the group of exiles and fugitives as a whole, with the middlemost man(A heavyset man of most likely Valmese origin, clearly less than comfortable in the blistering heat) hefting a small telescope of interminable origin. The blonde man to his left seemed to be even less suited for the desert sun(Clearly Feroxian in origin, his furred cape soaked in pungent sweat), as he constantly muttered threats at the sun. The third and final man, however, seemed to be quite at ease with the entire arrangement. Black hair and dark eyes complimented impressively pale skin even as the heavy coverings of a Plegian Dark Mage covered most of the man's lithe form. He seemed to be basking instead of boiling in the heat, uninterested in the either the cursing of his blonde companion or the gasping pants of his muscular Valmese superior. [i]Prideful braggarts, the lot of them.[/i]

Logan had been forced into this mission by way of an overly threatening man with a large knife and the promise of meeting the ever dwindling population of Shepherds. If the rumors were to be believed, the crazed Exalt of Yilsse had ordered the once-proud group of volunteers executed for high treason and conspiring against the throne, something that had been unheard of in the many years following the war against Grima. [i]Hilarious. I don't suppose the populace believes that the Divine Dragon watches over them, too.[/i] He allowed himself a small snort of laughter, unheard over the heavy breathing of his compainions(The Feroxi swordsman looked like he was suffering from heatstroke), and turned his attention to the group in front of him. [i]Interesting. They haven't died after being subjected to the blazing heat of the desert for days on end, which is more than I can say about the sorry fools who don heavy gear and waste their breath.[/i] The spellcaster tossed a pointed look at his obviously dying companions, noting that it was only their discipline that seemed to be killing them, as neither had made a move for the pack of supplies that lay only a few feet behind them. [i]I'll give them five minutes before one of them collapses. Then I can go talk to the ones who don't seem to be as stupid.[/i] His careful consideration and planning wasn't needed. Moments after he settled in to wait for one of the brutes to do something moronic and kill themselves, the blonde man snapped. Logan carefully moved back as the swordsman hauled himself off the sand and glared down at the Valmese Knight, before saying something exceptionally unkind and making for the supplies. The man got two steps into his proud and haughty stride before collapsing face-down on the yellow sand, unmoving. The other idiotic savage didn't respond, instead focusing entirely on making sure the next harsh breath would come. It was almost [i]too[/i] perfect. 

A full minute later, Logan hefted the bag of supplies over his shoulder as he stepped over both of the corpses. A simple stab had been enough to finish the weakened men and take their mutual funds. He began the slow trek over to the Shepherds encampment, careful to be as non-threatening as possible(Even if he had just killed two men in cold blood).