Deserts, Wil decides, wiping the sweat from his brow, the burning midday sun beating down on his back, are entirely too hot. They're rather unnecessary, too. Because really, what grows out in the desert? What lives out in the desert? What purpose does a desert have? Nothing. And besides being hot and unnecessary, deserts are very, very, annoying. There's so much sand, for one thing, and sand is so difficult to move around in. As you walk in sand, you'll slowly sink down and it becomes hard to move, and it's gets all in over you, even in those places you didn't think it would, Wil notes as he brushes sand out of ear, and it'll whip across your face and sting like crazy. Yes, Wil decides, deserts really are unnecessary.

"…You alright?" The question startles Wil slightly, he had forgotten about the outside world with his internal rant, so he looks to see where it came from. Squinting and using a hand to cover his eyes (that's another thing, Wil adds, deserts are much too bright), he looks up to see Rath, his nomadic companion.

"Eh, I'm alright, it's just that it's so hot, and so hard to move around in this stupid sand…" Wil answers, muttering somewhat, too bothered to really start a proper conversation.

"Then get on my horse," Rath tells him, quite suddenly, staring down at him, using his hand to block the sun out from his eyes. They both know that if being on a horse is more likely to slow his speed rather than increase it, but neither is really getting anywhere, anyway, and it's more comfortable that way; and he's less likely to get completely covered in sand.

"Eh?" is the only thing Wil can think to say in reply. It's understandable, though, because Rath hates riding with someone else unless it's absolutely necessary, so Wil figures that the sun's just fried his brain.

"Get on my horse," Rath repeats, almost using the frustrated tone that one might use with an annoying child. Wil stares at Rath incredulously for a moment, but the sun's glinting off Rath's earring something fierce, so Wil has to glance down and stare at Rath's horse incredulously instead.

"On your horse…?" Wil knows what he's saying is stupid and repetitive, but it's too hot and too bright out to think properly, and Wil and Rath's horse have never gotten along all that well. Quite badly, in fact, Wil remembers, thinking of the many times he's been thrown off the horse.

"Yes," Rath answers, no longer bothering to hide the exasperated tone in his voice. Wil stares at horse a moment more, unsure, but then nods his head, because it can't be that bad, right? Wil's glad Rath decided not to give his horse a saddle today, otherwise both might not have been able to fit. Rath gets off his horse and helps Wil up with relatively little trouble, but not without Wil nearly falling off at least once, because Wil's always had a lot of trouble getting on horses, and then gets on himself.

Deserts, Wil decides, leaning against Rath andsighing contently, really actually aren't all that bad. In fact, he thinks as Rath wraps his arm tighter around his waist, almost protectively, so he won't fall off, if you can ignore the heat and the sun, they're actually quite wonderful.
---

Arg, this is so lame. But it has a happy ending, so that makes up for the lameness. Sorta. And about the last story - no, Wil's not pregnant, it was a joke, albeit a weird one. Mpreg freaks me out so bad. But now I kinda want to write a story where rath and Wil have a kid...

Thanks for the reviews, Ceolsige and Guardian Arrow. And more reviews would be appreciated by other people, because I know you're reading this. I have 97 pagevies; I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! ...-cough-

Okay, and random plug time for Ceolsige's art: www(dot)deviantart(dot)com/view/25579261/