Nothing but paranoia and dread pursued the two over the following day of flinching at every shadow and shifting of sands. Omid led the trek today and few words were spoken throughout the day, though neither seemed to notice. Conversation and acknowledgement of one another required precious energy that was constantly being drained by the suns. It was energy far better spent on letting their imaginations run wild and subsequently trying to fight it off with reason.

Nothing is following you and you’re just scaring yourself.

It was just a strange phenomenon, really it shows the beauty of the desert against its unforgiving nature.

The great desert is unforgiving and will not abide such paranoid thoughts.

You two and your camels are the only ones out here.

There is no one hiding in the shadows at the edge of your vision.

There is no one following you just outside your field of view.

No one is following you and you’re just scaring yourself.

There is no need to keep jumping at nothing.

No one is following you and it is safe to stop looking.

You can look sometimes, just to show yourself that no one is there.

No one is following you.

Both arrived at similar thoughts. Both kept checking. Both only saw one another and their camels. Both saw only the other scout desperately scanning the desert for signs of anything that would be a worthwhile find. Both cursed their luck with each passing hour at finding nothing.

In time, their thoughts shifted to how their luck was just as rotten as Aiz’s in that they had found a particularly empty patch of desert. No oasis, no camels, no sand striders, no rock formations to shelter near, no caves within those rocks, no ruins revealed by shifting sands, no other travellers through the great desert, and absolutely no inexplicable phenomenon no doubt brought about by likely malevolent entities.

And they are not following you.

The last meal of the day was not nearly as relaxing as it needed to be.

“Moons should be a bit more full.” Taljir said while gazing at the darkening sky.

“Indeed.” Omid curtly responded while chewing on a date.

“Should get a bit more water from the moon jars.” Taljir continued.

“That’s the hope.” Omid said.

“Should be easier to see tonight too. Though after such a long day of seeing a whole two scorpions I’ll probably just sleep through the whole night!” Taljir lied, more to himself than Omid.

Nazer brayed at him from a short ways away, as even he seemed to doubt his rider. Omid said nothing as he pulled a blanket around himself, the night chill already starting to set in. He forced his focus onto trying to think of anything else.

“Well, best get to sleep. There’s just so many opportunities for tomorrow. I saw no less than four scorpions today! That’s one more than yesterday! Just imagine! They’re probably coming from some ancient kingdom that kept them as pets as now they just hang out near the ruins! The ruins that’s just over that next ridge!” Taljir’s focus was on filling the silence with any noise. If his companion wasn’t in the mood for talking then his own rambling delusions would have to do.

Omid idly nodded along to be polite while thinking of a diplomatic answer. He gave the smallest of smiles as he finally arrived at one. “You know, it’s certainly possible. But we will need to be well rested first. That would be a very long day of surveying ruins. And I would owe you one scarf while having to try and cope with wearing red instead.”

“It’s true. Green is just that much better of a color.” Taljir said as he tapped a finger just below his eye for emphasis. Even in the fading light of day lit only by fire and a few early stars his green eyes were piercing. “The ladies just can’t get enough of it, they’re all over me!”

Omid’s eyebrows raised as his lips pursed. His open palm went to his brow as if to shield it from the sun and he made a show of looking from left to right and all around in every direction. He withdrew his hand from his brow in a slightly clenched fist that rested on his knee while he gave a resigned series of nods to Taljir. “Truly it’s a wonder I can even see the desert underneath all of them. I may never find a woman of my own so long as you live to claim them all for yourself.”

Taljir coughed into his hand to hide and cleared his throat as he looked away. “Well you see they...I obviously couldn’t bring them all and…metaphorically speaking-”

His hand was at his chin, stroking at his thin beard as Omid’s eyes focused intently on the desert wiseman’s words. “Mhmm, mhmmm. Go on.”

“See-” Taljir gestured wildly with his hands, though the true meaning of such arcane gestures was long lost to the sands themselves. “You wouldn’t understand.” He said while crossing his arms again and shaking his head dismissively.

“Probably not without a good night’s rest. Perhaps we can continue this discussion tomorrow?” Omid said in as serious a tone as he could muster, trying to hide a wry grin on his face with his hand.

“Exactly!” Taljir said while triumphantly pointed to the sky. “Tomorrow! Which is also when we’ll find something incredible! Phew, all this talk of hard work is hard work. I’d better get to sleep.” The scout said with an exaggerated yawn and a stretch. He immediately started crawling into his sleeping bag to hide from all further inquiry.

A blank stare followed shortly by a nearly inaudible chuckle was all that Omid could manage before standing for a final check of their small camp. Nazer and Masel were already sound asleep. Moon jars carefully placed. All that was left was to put out the oil lamp that they dared to call a campfire.

Really this was no different than last night, Omid thought to himself as he lightly paced about the small camp once more. Just to be sure everything was set for the night. Looking again, he decided that the moon jars could be angled slightly better to catch more moonlight. He took his time walking over to them, carefully kneeling down before them and looked them over carefully. Desert survival was a difficult task, so optimal moon jar placement was critical to obtain the most water. This meant a long deliberation as he tilted his head in every which way while sizing up the jars and looking to the rapidly darkening skies, carefully calculating optimal angles and not at all stalling for time while hemming and hawing to himself.

Obviously the jars had to be dug up and reburied several times, to get the placement just right. Some might say Omid was spending far too much time trying to place the jars just so in the pursuit of getting maybe a few more drops out of them while forestalling having to put out the lantern and try to sleep in the darkness in the middle of the desert. Omid would say that with the amount of forestalling he was doing, he might earn both him and Taljir an entire extra gulp of water.

Finally, he was satisfied as he rose back to his feet and dusted off his hands and dark gray trousers while walking over to the flickering lantern. He stood before it and lost track of time as he watched its glow, sighing with slumped shoulders before looking out around him at the desert a final time. The lantern’s light only reached out so far, but it was bright enough to kill any night vision to the point that beyond its illumination was now a sea of darkness reaching out into the horizon and up into the sky where the earliest arriving stars and moons now shone. Omid mused that once he put out the lantern, and with enough time for his eyes to adjust he should be able to see decently enough thanks to the light of the moons and stars. Just enough to see beyond a sea of pitch black and make out indistinct shadows flitting about between the larger patches of dark.

Omid stared out into the dark a final time before forcing himself to look back to the lantern, and not what may be staring back at him out there. He reached a shaky hand out to the lantern before quickly grabbing at it and holding it up to put it out while staring at the flame. Though the night sky was filled with countless points of light, it was one small flame that stood between him and whatever might be hiding in the shadows. For a moment, his hand moved closer to the short blade at his hip while he stared down the flame.

A small twist of the knob and the flame was out. Until Omid’s eyes adjusted to the new lack of light, the night was at its absolute darkest from his perspective. He carefully made his way back to his sleeping bag, slowly climbing inside and silently moving a hand to his short sword as he did so. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, but if he had to fight for it he would. If there was something or someone out there watching, he didn’t want to let them win by losing any more sleep than he already had. If there was nothing and no one out there, then he would feel even more silly and would need to sleep away such feelings.

Dreams were no escape for Omid. He was alone, walking through the desert without even Masel to accompany him. It was day and yet still the moons and stars still shone as though it was night. Though he was walking, he moved faster than any camel at full gallop. He looked to the skies and saw the suns slowly overtaken by the greater moon as the lesser moon was impossibly full alongside its sibling in the sky. And still it remained as bright as day. All movement stopped, and the rush of movement was replaced with an overwhelming feeling of having been here before. It was nothing but sand dunes, that should be no different from the ever shifting sea of their kin. And yet he knew these dunes more and more until he noticed the patches of tall grass all around him.

Omid tried to run, and tried to look away. And the faster he ran the more the skies at the edges of his vision began to spin. Suns and moons and stars all spinning until it was a blur as his vision was forced further down to behold the indigo flower rising from the skeleton’s mouth. His body failed him as all movement was impossible, and for the slightest moment he found a tiny shred of peace in beholding the beauty of this desert flower. Then the footsteps upon the sands started approaching him from behind, and still he was unable to look. They came closer and closer, and still he found himself helpless until a focused act of defiance and will allowed a final act as he felt that presence approaching him.

In a voice that was altogether his own and yet not, he manifested a singular word.

“STOP!”

The skies went pitch black and impenetrable darkness fell upon the land as the footsteps came to a halt, though Omid’s body was capable of movement as he squirmed about to find he was trapped in some unknown prison and rapidly suffocating.

No, that was just his sleeping bag.

Though he felt as though he was suffocating it was as much as one could expect when waking from a bad dream. Which is all it was, he repeated to himself mentally as he took a series of deep breaths. Omid reminded himself the darkness was from opting to fold the specialized flap of the sleeping bag over his head. Keep the scorpions out and the heat in, even if the cool desert nights were more reasonable this time of year. He gave a larger exhale, breath finally steadying as he reached a hand up to the flap, thinking how the nights may be more reasonable but the less one left anything to chance with scorpions the better.

“When did the footsteps stop?”

The question hit him just as his hand was about to open up his sleeping bag. All attempts at steady breathing gone as he held his breath.

It had to have been when the dream ended, right? Not after?

He held his breath, listening closely as his mind raced. It was pitch black in here, which meant it was not daytime yet. His eyes would be adjusted to have a fighting chance at seeing whatever the night held. There was enough of a breeze that it could have been the sound of sands shifting. Taljir was far enough away that simple tossing and turning wouldn’t be notably audible, though perhaps he was up and about for some reason? He could call out to him and solve this mystery.

Or let whoever was making those footsteps know that he was now awake and lose any element of surprise.

Omid’s heartbeat thudded in his ears like war drums. His hand moved down to his short sword again in preparation for the battle his heart drummed for, and though he was thankful that he opted to sleep with it tonight the cramped space here would make drawing it difficult at best. All the more reason to keep the element of surprise, and opt to very carefully peek outside.

Before he could change his mind, his fingers ever so slowly and ever so delicately began to push open the flap keeping his wool and hide shelter sealed. The air was stuffy after unknown hours of sleep and what felt like years of panicked breathing. Fresh air and a tiny ray of dim light both flooded in to overwhelm Omid’s senses. He moved at a snail’s pace to peek out the tiny gap in the sleeping bag, jaw clenched tight as he went.

The light of the moons and stars provided minimal illumination, but it was enough to make out vague shapes and shadows. It was, however, not enough to calm a mind running wild. He gave a silent prayer to Nazan, asking that if his guidance would be too much perhaps he could bear witness to a traveller facing down the vast unknown of the great desert at night. However, such a prayer required some follow through on Omid’s part. Namely that of witnessing it himself, requiring a better view of the night.

Omid gave a hard gulp, and forced himself to open the sleeping bag up further as more light poured in.

It could be something simple, like a very lost hyena or lion poking about. All it would take is a lit lantern waved at them to scare them off.

He dared to put a single eye to the opening in his sleeping bag, freezing as he heard sand shifting nearby.

It could just be the wind and the settling of sand.

The sand “shifted” again, and once more and he swore he heard it growing closer.

It could be bandits, thieves, or murderers. There were few beasts this far out so keeping a fire going wasn’t as necessary to drive them away. It just made you a more luminescent target.

There it was again. Footsteps or sand slipping against itself. Perhaps a rock or some other form of debris revealed by shifting sands now irregularly tumbling down a dune.

It could be one or more of The Tall Men, come to end the lives of a few humans foolish enough to stumble into their territory.

Omid created a larger opening in the bag to get a better view, everything was still indistinct out there. Was that something...or someone out there? That wasn’t where Taljir was, he was over that way...unless one of them had shifted about in their sleep and direction now meant nothing. Direction now meant nothing and the movement at the edges of his vision could be paranoid delusions, eyes adjusting to the darkness, or someone out their toying with their inevitable prey.

It could be a Kirzallan come to trick wayward travellers in the desert. A trick or a test, whatever they had determined would be more appropriate. Or more amusing.

Was that something moving? No, Omid reassured himself. It was simply his own eyes twitching so much out of sheer terror. At what might be out there hiding in the shadows and toying with him because it knew that he knew he was being watched. It knew he could feel as though he was being watched at this very moment by the sensation reaching down to his very core making every tiny hair on his skin stand on end.

It could be a Mirzallan, which meant both that a significant amount of water was nearby and also all hope was likely lost.

His breath stopped again, and he carefully weighed all options considered so far as his mind started to run wild with a dozen more. Carefully, ever so carefully he slowly opened the sleeping bag enough to slip out into the night air. His hand was not on his sword, and his breath was a laborious process of forcing himself to inhale deeply and pause before a long exhale. All as quiet as he could manage.

There was something out in the dark. Omid couldn’t see it, but it could see him. Whatever it was, it was smart. No, whoever it was. As inhuman as it might be, it was something that could think. Something that could keep up with riders on camels and do it all without being seen. While being completely silent until it chose not to be. At this point, a sword would be worthless against whoever was out there. A thousand different things out there watching and thinking of what to do with him.

Omid slowly sat up, looking around into the all encompassing darkness for any bit of movement. If someone was toying with him or testing him, he could at least do his best to pass. And if there was no means of “passing” whatever this was, then this would have to be enough of a final act of defiance. He moved an arm out to his side in a broad arc, slowly feeling about for the lantern he had set down some hours ago.

Cool metal met the edge of his hand to let him know he had found it, his fingers gripped its handle all too tight until he paused. There was no fast way of lighting it. No fast way of trading in his dark adjusted eyes for flickering flame that didn’t illuminate nearly enough. Omid slowly climbed to his feet, figuring that whatever awaited him out there was best met on his feet rather than laying down in terror. He kept the lantern on hand, and carefully withdrew the bit of flint and steel from a pouch at his belt.

Not yet, but soon would be the time for light to reveal whatever it could.

He took a cautious step forward, shaking only slightly in the cool night air. Then another, and another while both his hands were focused on clutching at lamp and flint as though his life depended on it. Omid stopped, shivering slightly as he thought that it's possible his life may actually depend on it. It was possible a Mirzallan may not like fire, though they may just instantly strike him down out of anger or annoyance rather than flee in fear. And like all Zallans they followed a certain etiquette, though none were entirely sure what it was. A Woodstalker would no doubt flee, so there was at least one entity out there he could think of that he might have a fighting chance against.

There was another sound that pulled his attention back from paranoid imaginings into an ever encroaching reality of something out there. Omid carefully looked around, eyes straining to make out any details against the sands as his ears struggled to find the source of the sound. Another few sounds in quick succession, sand being displaced. Footsteps? Was there a gust of wind? Were there any larger dunes nearby when they made camp? The sands couldn’t shift that fast could they?

Not on their own, Omid thought to himself. Which led him back to the recurring conclusion that someone was out there just beyond the edges of his vision.

This of course called for a likely foolish plan.

“I am grateful to any who would let us make camp in their lands as we pass through.” Omid said in a low, cautious voice.

No response came, but Omid swore he heard the sudden stop of footsteps mid sentence. He dared to continue.

“Perhaps a fellow traveller would like to join us in our camp for food and drink, as I myself could not stand to be a rude host.” He forced as much confidence into his words as he could while shaking through a combination of fear and cold night air.

Omid heard footsteps again and then a scraping sound followed by a thud, his head immediately whipping around to face it as his blood ran colder than the air of the tallest mountains. Then he could swear he heard it from another direction, unsure if it was an echo or if such things were currently possible. He started to slowly shuffle his feet, and in his panic he didn’t know which direction his legs carried him in. Only that some part of him was telling him to move.

And then his boot collided with something.

Omid leapt back, landing hard with only the sand as a cushion as his shaking hands struggled to get the lamp lit as fast as he possibly could. Trembling fingers struck the flint and steel too slow for his liking, still fast enough to get the lamp lit and held aloft to illuminate whoever Omid had run into.

There was no one, and Omid’s face was one of confusion as his mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. He looked from left to right until with horrible realization he looked up.

And saw only night sky. His brows pressed together as he desperately tried to figure out what was going on, and if his observer could somehow slip from sight.

That was until he realized he was being an idiot and looked down to see a tortoise laying upon its back.

Omid let out a heavy sigh in defeat while closing his eyes and shaking his head. He set down the lamp as he quickly righted the tortoise and dusted off its saffron colored shell as a courtesy before retrieving his lamp.

“I don’t suppose you wish to return to camp with me? I’ll let you have some water and dates if you promise to tell no one of what happened here.” Omid said to himself and suppressed a nervous chuckle, thinking how waking Taljir now would lead to far too many embarrassing questions.

The small tortoise stared blankly at the young man for a moment before continuing on its night time journey.

Omid shook his head, breathing finally returning to a normal pace. He placed the flint and steel back into one of the pouches on his belt as he took a final look around with the lamp to light the way. Taljir was thankfully sound asleep still, as were the camels. There was nothing but sand and tortoise tracks as far as the eye could see. Upon confirming this Omid made his way back to his sleeping bag.

Do tortoises leave tracks like that?

The question stopped him dead in his tracks, letting him appreciate how silent the nights could be in the great desert when there wasn’t even wind to interrupt the absolute quiet. At some point after letting that question seep into his mind and overwhelm him, he felt pain in his hand as his knuckles felt as though they might tear through the skin from gripping the lamp’s handle so hard.

Even his breathing had slowed to near nothing until he could hear his pulse thundering in his ears once more. A faint whistling and howling sound came from the horizon, and he turned just as he felt a large gust of wind hit him. His dark eyes bigger than the moons, he brought his empty hand up to shield them from the sudden blast of sand. Blinking and rubbing away at his eyes, he tried to ignore the pain as he looked as hard as he could to where he had seen the tracks.

Nothing.

Swept away by wind, or by horrors of the night. His mind had already begun to play tricks on him as he stood there in disbelief. They were simply tortoise tracks. Only some of them were tortoise tracks. The closest were tortoise tracks, and part way back they changed into something else. None of them were tortoise tracks, and they do not walk on two feet. There were never any tracks to begin with.

Omid forced the thoughts from his head with a shake or several. Focus, he told himself. He had in fact seen a tortoise, even helped it. It was still there wasn’t it?

He quickly took off at a fast walk in the direction the tortoise had meandered, desperate for the lamplight to illuminate its shell. Desperate for some confirmation of even a shred of something mundane. A fast walk almost broke into a jog just as the edges of the flickering flame’s light caught that familiar saffron shell. Relief hit for a brief moment, seeing tracks behind the small beast that indeed looked like tortoise tracks.

Omid gave a slight shiver, holding the lamp a bit closer to himself for the tiniest bit of warmth that it gave. He frowned and all relief was gone as he wondered why a tortoise was up and moving on such a cool night. The light of the lamp flickered on the tortoise’s shell as it soldiered onward.

“I see.” Omid said in a barely audible voice.

He walked over to the tortoise, still making its way, and kneeled down to it. The beast paid it no mind, but as Omid withdrew a few dates from a pouch at his hip and held them out the tortoise stopped. It carefully looked at them, ever so slowly moving toward its prize until it extended its neck out to take a tentative bite. Then another. And another until Omid set the few dates down before it while worriedly glancing about and setting the lantern down. He pulled his water skin from its sling and poured a bit into his cupped hand, gently holding it out for the desert wanderer.

The tortoise tilted its head, pausing its small feast of dates to look at the water before partaking in the offering. It drank and drank until there was no water left, then continued feasting on dates until none remained. Small curious eyes looked up to Omid, who’s own eyes were currently overcome with worry as a frown spread across his lips. Not one of displeasure, but one of a creeping dread.

“Safe travels, wanderer.” Omid said.

The tortoise looked off, and continued on its way. Omid continued kneeling for some time, watching it go and every so often glancing around as though he might see some sort of confirmation. He was now ever more convinced that someone was watching him. His hope was that he had passed whatever test had been presented to him. Every time he looked back to the tortoise, he expected to see it had vanished. Every time, the tortoise remained.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Omid picked up the lamp and stood up while keeping the tortoise in sight. He took a few breaths to steady his nerves, and closed his eyes before turning around. Another few breaths, and he opened his eyes to see the edges of the small camp.

He refused to look back, only focusing on slowly walking back to his sleeping bag. The lamp flickered one final time as he put it out and crawled inside his sanctuary to salvage whatever bit of sleep he could from this night.

Taljir noticed his companion looked worse for wear in the morning, and with a good deal of concern asked what was wrong.

“Oh. I woke up during the night.” Omid said while wishing they had brought coffee or even tea along with them. “Something scurrying about out there, just a small thing.”

Taljir’s brows furrowed. “Did you see what it was, exactly?”

Omid took a moment to respond as he thought, and he looked up and off to the early morning sky as he got only slightly lost in thought. “No.”