Desert. Mortis's least favourite landscape to traverse. The hot, moistureless air dried the membranous skin of his wings and cracked his lips. Yet despite those small discomforts, it was a place he'd returned to often in the past. He had a history here.

As he passed under the great stone arch of the cities entrance, he was almost relieved to see it had barely changed in the past seven years.

'Sands shift, people come and die. But this place never seems to age...' he thought.

The mighty palace of the Sultans towered above the smaller stone buildings, its impressive tear-drop shaped roof sand blasted but still magnificent. Not far from that was the two story brothel and exotic dance house. Mortis secretly hoped the girls had changed, even if the city hadn't. The market in the middle was a hive of activity, and laughter could be heard from the nearby tavern. He focused on the bar and walked towards it, aware of the eyes already beginning to watch him.

Out the front of the tavern, a middle aged woman watched a young boy playing in the street. Her husband watched too, an arm draped protectively and lovingly around his wife's shoulders; a smile on both of their faces. The woman suddenly noticed Mortis, and her smile fell.

"Gel! Gel come quickly" she called.

The boy, drawn by the slight urgency in her voice, stopped playing and walked to his parents. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
By this time market chatter had began to fade as more people noticed the large figure strolling down the main street. The boy had seen him now and was squirming wildly in his mother's arms.

Mortis stopped a few feet away, as the child finally freed himself. He ran towards the demon that was easily four times his size, hands outstretched.

"Mortis, Mortis!" he cried.

Mortis smiled and stooped to collect the boy.

"Gel!" he said, easily cradling the child in the crook of his arm. "You've gotten big."

"Big enough to beat you up soon" Gel grinned. He balled his hands into fists and made a faux swing, "POW!"

"Whoa, easy, Tiger." Mortis chuckled. "I'd rather not lose a fight to a kid in public. Bad for the reputation"

Gel's parents had wandered over, the woman smiling warmly now."Hello, Mortis" she said. "It's been a long time. I seem to remember you visiting far more often."

"Hello, Atma" he replied, "Yes, I suppose seven years is a long time. To humans. But you haven't aged a day."

She appreciated the comment, but they both knew it wasn't true. The grey in her hair and lines around her eyes portrayed the struggles and hardships she endured from living in this desert city.

"Mortis." Atma's husband extended his hand.

"Ackmand" Mortis took his hand and shook it slowly. There was no hostility between them; only the uneasy tension you would expect from a husband whose wife was standing in front of a being, widely thought of as an unpredictable killing machine. "You're looking well too."

They listened in silence to Gel babble about his pet scorpion as they walked towards the tavern. And then a gruff voice spoke behind them.

"So, the Dune Hunter returns."

Mortis stopped dead in his tracks. Eyeing Atma, he nodded and handed the boy over, before slowly turning around.

"Elzix...?" he said, somewhat surprised.

The balding man wearing an eye patch leaned heavily on his cane and limped down the street towards him.

"Yes, it's me. The man you left for dead among the bodies of my bandit buddies." He scowled as he reached Mortis's feet, glaring up unintimidated.
"I owe you, demon."

Uneasy silence. Apprehensive stares. The market was readying itself for a full fledged battle. But suddenly Elzix's face broke into a broad grin.

"Owe you for changing my life! Ha!" he slapped Mortis on the shoulder. "Good to see you. Relax already."

Mortis allowed himself to breathe. The idea of killing in front of the boy had put him on the edge, and he was slowly concentrating on stepping back. Elzix's behaviour had him thoroughly confused.

"Changed... your life?"

"You bet! Turned over a new leaf. I'm an honest man now."

Mortis raised an eyebrow.

"And my taking your eye and leg did this?"

"Hey, if knowing a beast like you is stalking the sands isn't enough to turn a man from crime... well I probably should have just stayed there and bled to death, cause I'm sure as hell you would have finished me off second time 'round. Besides," he continued, "with the rest of the band dead I got a hundred percent of the loot."

Mortis's features hardened and Elzix quickly jumped to his own defence.

"Oh, but don't worry, I used it to buy the inn on the other side of town. I run an honest business. And as a show of goodwill, I'll even let you stay the night free."

Mortis finally relaxed enough to shake the old bandit's hand."Thank you for the offer, but I won't be needing it. I'm not staying long."

"Eh? You're leaving already? But you just got here!"

Another familiar voice. Mortis turned to see a wrinkly, toothless man wearing a fez. He had numerous bottles slotted into his belt and protruding from every pocket on his body.

"Lysander! You're still here? And still brewing those crazy potions, I'm betting."

"Indeed I am! And I've just made a real boomer: my new home brew. If you think you're up to it we can challenge at the bar. I guarantee it'll knock you socks off and burn like hell all the way down."

"We'll see about that," Mortis smiled, "I don't wear socks, so I'm one up on you already."

The friendly greetings and familiar faces continued to drift in, and the day ebbed on. Mortis felt the warm feeling that was rare anywhere else: acceptance. The people here welcomed him for the deeds he'd done for them in the past, and to some degree he felt they were friends. He felt personally responsible for their welfare and safety.

So he wondered how the contract he held for the death of their leader was going to affect the relationships he'd developed within this city. If they found out, the repercussions could purge their faith in him in a second. He didn't think he could handle that. It was, after all, the only city so far that saw him for who he was...