It felt as if the sun was sending arrows of fire at her back. The beams of light were burning her skin and making her suffer. This was literally Hell. Especially for her, since she did not have the skin of a Plegian—the red haired woman was as pale as the sand that surrounded her. Maybe she was even paler than usual due to the fact that she did not have food to consume or water to drink. But Ambra did not care how she looked at the moment. She was parched and starving, and she didn’t think that she could last much longer. She had to stop more and more often, and she felt like she was out of breath. If I can have just one drop of water…
Yet, her begging would get her nowhere. Her blue eyes started to drift across the endless expanse of pale yellow, hoping to see some sort of source for water and food. But there was none. There was just the sea of vermillion and the shadows of small clouds drifting over the dunes. Sweat pounded down her face, and she shakily wiped away the rivulets of moisture. So thirsty, she complained internally. Her body was literally giving way as she walked. Every step was more difficult than the next. I don’t want to die yet.
The red haired woman continued to walk for a while more before she came across something that wasn’t sand or rock. Ambra blinked down at the figure that was face down on the ground, unmoving. She watched him for a moment before getting on her knees and peering closely at his body. He was obviously male—she could tell that from the very beginning. He was in tatters and seemed severely malnourished. Is he dead? she tipped her head as she continued to watch him. He’s breathing, that’s for sure. Maybe his body just gave out from underneath him?
”Hey,” she croaked as she shook the male. ”Wake up. You have to wake up. You’ll die here if you keep on laying down like that.”
The day was hotter than Talbot thought it would be. He had been trekking through the endless sea of sand for almost a week, and he had been sure that he was going to die. But as soon as he laid eyes upon the small village that rested just under the shadow of a hill, he knew that he had been saved. Of course, the Dark mage immediately went to the nearest inn and ordered any sort of water they had, along with a heaping serving of food. Once he felt the food touch his lips and enter his belly, he thought that he was in heaven. The young man sat down in a chair nearest to the bartender, swallowing a mouthful of some sort of meat. His stomach roared, as if berating him for not letting it have food for the past five days, but soon fell quiet, content with the rush of energy that flooded over him. Talbot trembled in pleasure as he swallowed another mouthful in silence.
He rather not think about what had happened. All he knew was that he had to get revenge some way. All he knew is that some way, somehow, he had to find the rest. He couldn’t be the last Shepherd. It wasn’t possible. There had been thousands and thousands of them. Of course a significant portion of them had been slaughtered like sheep. But… not all of them. No, Talbot felt as there were more that were alive. They couldn’t all be dead. They couldn’t all be worm food. Because if that was true, he was alone, and he couldn’t do things alone.
The food suddenly turned sour in his mouth, but he scarfed the rest of the meat down anyway and swallowed the rest of the water. Thanking the tender for the meal and water, he set a few bullions on the table and got up from his seat. Talbot made his way up to his room, yawning loudly. He had to get some rest. He hoped that he would not have to go through the horrible nightmares that plagued him every night.
Laying on his bed, the mage curled up and tucked his head into his pillow, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep.
Yet, her begging would get her nowhere. Her blue eyes started to drift across the endless expanse of pale yellow, hoping to see some sort of source for water and food. But there was none. There was just the sea of vermillion and the shadows of small clouds drifting over the dunes. Sweat pounded down her face, and she shakily wiped away the rivulets of moisture. So thirsty, she complained internally. Her body was literally giving way as she walked. Every step was more difficult than the next. I don’t want to die yet.
The red haired woman continued to walk for a while more before she came across something that wasn’t sand or rock. Ambra blinked down at the figure that was face down on the ground, unmoving. She watched him for a moment before getting on her knees and peering closely at his body. He was obviously male—she could tell that from the very beginning. He was in tatters and seemed severely malnourished. Is he dead? she tipped her head as she continued to watch him. He’s breathing, that’s for sure. Maybe his body just gave out from underneath him?
”Hey,” she croaked as she shook the male. ”Wake up. You have to wake up. You’ll die here if you keep on laying down like that.”
The day was hotter than Talbot thought it would be. He had been trekking through the endless sea of sand for almost a week, and he had been sure that he was going to die. But as soon as he laid eyes upon the small village that rested just under the shadow of a hill, he knew that he had been saved. Of course, the Dark mage immediately went to the nearest inn and ordered any sort of water they had, along with a heaping serving of food. Once he felt the food touch his lips and enter his belly, he thought that he was in heaven. The young man sat down in a chair nearest to the bartender, swallowing a mouthful of some sort of meat. His stomach roared, as if berating him for not letting it have food for the past five days, but soon fell quiet, content with the rush of energy that flooded over him. Talbot trembled in pleasure as he swallowed another mouthful in silence.
He rather not think about what had happened. All he knew was that he had to get revenge some way. All he knew is that some way, somehow, he had to find the rest. He couldn’t be the last Shepherd. It wasn’t possible. There had been thousands and thousands of them. Of course a significant portion of them had been slaughtered like sheep. But… not all of them. No, Talbot felt as there were more that were alive. They couldn’t all be dead. They couldn’t all be worm food. Because if that was true, he was alone, and he couldn’t do things alone.
The food suddenly turned sour in his mouth, but he scarfed the rest of the meat down anyway and swallowed the rest of the water. Thanking the tender for the meal and water, he set a few bullions on the table and got up from his seat. Talbot made his way up to his room, yawning loudly. He had to get some rest. He hoped that he would not have to go through the horrible nightmares that plagued him every night.
Laying on his bed, the mage curled up and tucked his head into his pillow, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep.
