She had been walking nonstop for two and a half days before she saw anything. Even then, the run-down, skeletal excuse for a building she'd spotted wasn't much to look at. Really, she might have missed it, if hunger hadn't sharpened every sense to a brutal point. The place seemed to soar over the desert on a pedestal of the biggest sand dune she had ever seen. Don't get your hopes up, she thought. It's still a kilometer away. You could keel over before you reach it.
The quasiroyal tucked her head down, pulled her ragged hood up, and trudged on. By the time she reached the little ruin, the sun was dipping low into the sky. It would be dark in about an hour. She didn't have much time, and she was already tired. The last thing she needed was a fight with a sand monster to sap the rest of her energy. She slunk past a wall, annoyed to find that this particular establishment had but a tiny portion of roof. She would be provided with little shelter from the wind as she slept, unless there happened to be an alcove to duck into. The former queen wouldn't count on it.
The exile made her way down a hollow hall and found a kitchen. Brilliant. Maybe she would have a proper meal for the first time in… how long had it been, again? She couldn't remember. Time to rectify that. Though the place looked mostly drained of provisions, she still sifted through the empty cans. Whoever had been here last had probably missed something. People always did. She spent the next half hour or so combing the place as carefully as was possible. Cabinets: Empty. Shelves: Empty.
As she drew her search to a close, the banished queen was faced with only a pantry as a possible food source. As the most obvious place to look, she doubted there would be anything left, but it was worth a shot. At first glance, the pantry's shelves were as fruitless as the rest of her search. Nothing stood out but more hollow metal cylinders. She glanced slowly from bottom to top, trying to be patient. Nothing… nothing… wait, what was that?
Pushing empty containers aside, the royal reached for a faded label on the uppermost shelf. The can was promisingly heavy. Bringing it to eye level confirmed her hopes, this was a sealed vessel. Aside from being bleached beyond recognition, it was flawless. It might just have been the best thing she had seen in days. She retreated from the pantry, immediately heading up an admittedly rickety flight of stairs. No one would get their hands on this as long as she was still breathing.
The upper story of this building offered the exile a challenge. There was little surface to stand, as much of the floor had caved in at some indefinite point in time. The only suitable place to bed in was in a corner to her immediate left, far too close to the entrance for her liking. There was a helpful pile of old rags that would serve to shield her from the wind, at least, but if anyone stumbled upon her temporary home, she would be in trouble. She would just have to make do.
The once-queen sidled over to the corner and sank down with a sigh. Exhaustion rolled over her like a wave, and she was fairly certain that she wouldn't be getting up until the dead were raised or she was fully rested. Both were dubious. She spread one threadbare blanket across the minimal flooring and curled up on it. Finally, she allowed herself to procure the can and work her claws into the lid. The smell that arose from the sludge-like substance within was unappealing. The ambiguous material was brown, with tiny chunks of something even more indistinguishable floating in it.
Despite the generally disgusting nature of the contents of the can, eating slowly was impossible. After draining the container in minutes, the Dersite found herself both a bit nauseous and incredibly thirsty. That hadn't been one of her better ideas, but at least she wasn't hungry. Yawning loudly, she settled down with her back to the wall and arranged the remaining cloth as a simultaneous blanket and disguise. She fell asleep easily.
The first thing to greet her when she woke was a punch to the face.