Out here, where the sun hangs high like a relentless judge, and the wind whispers tales of lost souls, lies a land unforgiving and vast. This ain't your ordinary stretch of sand and dust; no sir, this is the desert, a place where time stretches thin, and survival is a game played only by the toughest of souls.
As far as the eye can see, there's nothing but rolling dunes, their peaks shifting like the thoughts of a restless mind. The sand, it's like fine powder, slipping through your fingers with a mocking laugh, as if to say, "You don't belong here, pilgrim." And it's true, few do.
The sun, well, it's a relentless beast, beating down upon you with a fury that would make the devil himself take notice. It paints the sky with hues of orange and red, like a warning sign for those foolish enough to wander into its domain.
But it ain't just the sun you gotta worry about out here. No, sir, there's critters lurking in the shadows, creatures born of this harsh land, with fangs as sharp as the desert winds and eyes that gleam with hunger.
And the heat, oh don't get me started on the heat. It's like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with every breath you take. It'll sap your strength faster than a snakebite, leaving you crawling through the sand like a wounded animal.
But perhaps the cruelest trick the desert plays is with time itself. Out here, minutes feel like hours, and hours like days. It's like the world has slowed to a crawl, leaving you trapped in a never-ending cycle of heat and exhaustion.
But for those who dare to brave its depths, there's a beauty to be found in the desert, a raw and untamed kind of beauty that can't be found anywhere else. It's in the way the sand shifts and swirls in the wind, in the way the stars dance across the night sky like diamonds scattered on black velvet.
So if you ever find yourself staring out into the endless expanse of sand and sky, remember this: the desert may be harsh, but it's also a place of untold wonders, a place where the spirit is tested and the soul is set free. Just be sure to bring plenty of water and a strong will, because out here, only the strong survive.
Her paws felt as though they were on the verge of falling off. On and on the sand stretched with no end in sight. It reminded her so much of the fact that she hated sand. Dry and coarse sand. It was irritating and got everywhere, no matter the care she took.
They were lost. Simply put. Neither her nor Bull nor Toughy had any way of separating east from west and north from south. Bright as he seemingly was, Toughy had claimed that the sun always set in the east and by that logic, the west would be the opposite of wherever it dipped below the horizon. That track had simply led them to a massive mountain, impossible to scale by any creature that could not fly.
Bull then had put forth the proposal that the sun set in the north on a Monday, set in west on a Tuesday, set in the south on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays and set in the east on a Friday. Stupid as it sounded to all of their ears, they were each desperate enough to try even when the debate then fell into the territory of what day it actually was.
When those had both inevitably failed, Peg suggested that they simply find the cool shadow of a cactus to lay under and wait for any sign of Ma Fitz, as unlikely as it would be that the owl would come across them. They had lasted all but five minutes with nothing to do before deciding to carry on over grounds parched of any rain.
More and more, the energy they had run into the desert with had started to fade. One moment it was the sun beating down angrily on them for not knowing the difference between east and west and the next it was the winds which blinded them and made taking any step forward, a dangerous and uncertain task.
Food was more of a dream than anything else. Whatever lived and survived in the heat, held all secrets of it's sustenance to themselves. Desperate enough were they, that even greenery would have been a valid option and yet no matter how far or wide they searched, every plant, even the tiniest of spruces seemed to have been stomped out by conditions too demanding to grow under. Like an overbearing mother or a man of the house more comparable to a dictator than to somebody's pa.
Cannibalism was frowned upon in the dog community, not unheard of or completely illegal but absolutely frowned upon. Shameful as any of them might have felt, it did not good to deny that they were all starved enough to begin having vivid visions of consuming flesh belonging to their own kind.
*"It's us who gets to eat or it's the scavengers that get to eat,"* Bull had said in defense right after saying that the first to begin to feel death creeping by would have to give the other two permission to eat, lest they be cursed by their sin, sin which went against the sanctity of life and the dignity of even the dirtiest dog.
"Well ain't this just great Peg!" Toughy exclaimed suddenly, his own paws aching terribly.
"Don't blame me you trashy freeloader!" she spun on him with more ferocity than she had shown in days, her response coming from her mouth before it had even been fully formed in her head. "You just had to go and get got by a dog you couldn't take on."
"Mistake's a mistake!" Toughy argued. "And you're always there to clean up our mistakes, but no! This time you couldn't because you were too scared!"
"I don't know what you think of me or how much you even care, but let me tell you this in case it wasn't already clear: I ain't no skank. No matter the price and no matter the stakes, this body is mine and mine alone and I'll die before I see anyone do with it what I don't want done with it."
He kept her same snarl and same intent on pose for a beat following her declaration before settling back on his haunches with a huff, "Whatever. Doesn't help us now. Hey Bull, you doing alright?"
"I think," he answered slowly as though simultaneously focused on something specific and nothing at all. "I am now willing to give you both permission to chew on my body when the time comes. I only ask that you start with my right paw, it was always the lousy one anyways."
"You're not dying Bull," Peg said, rolling her eyes at his theatrics.
"Says you," Bull gave a huff of his own, "all this dryness on my tongue and the vulture that's been watching us for the past hour says otherwise."
"What vult-" Toughy started and then trailed off when his eyes spotted the bird which Bull had brought up. "Aah. I see." He cleared his throat and then loud as he could, shouted: "Hey pal! I don't know if you're too blind to notice but none of the three of us are dead yet!"
Rather than fly away at the prospect of having been both seen and warned, the vulture in question simply tilted it's head slightly before taking to a light flight in their direction.
"Great," Peg said sarcastically, "you brought him on over now."
"Ain't my fault the fella's deaf too," Toughy muttered under his breath.
"Hey there," he greeted, rudely blowing sand their way.
"Keep your heys and your theres to yourself," Toughy said, shaking what he could from his fur. "Like I said before, none of us are dying and so none of us are on the menu today."
"What do you... oh you folk thought I wanted to eat you?" he chuckled a raspy laugh at each of them in turn. "No, no. I was just following to see if I could help."
"And why should we trust you?"
"C'mon you don't trust good old Mutton? I know you got chased out by Gavin and Clive back there but I did try warning you."
"Of course you did!" Bull expressed happily. "We can trust him I'm sure of it, his favorite meat is mutton."
"It's not actually, I just told you my name is Mutton, not really sure how you... anyways, if you want to know where to go, you should go..." Mutton arched his head in several different directions before settling on one and gesturing with his wings toward it. "That way. That way right there is where civilization starts again. I could come with if you want."
"Well we didn't say all th-"
"You should! And on the way I might be able to persuade you of the tenderness of beef."
Now, when that blazing sun finally bows out and sinks below the horizon, the desert transforms into a whole different beast under the cloak of night. The sky, it's like a canvas painted with a million shimmering stars, each one a reminder of just how small we are in the grand scheme of things.
But don't let that blanket of darkness fool you; the desert at night, it's a whole new kind of danger. The cold, it creeps in like a thief in the night, stealing the warmth from your bones and leaving you shivering in its wake. And those desert critters I mentioned earlier? Well, they don't go to sleep when the sun goes down. No sir, they come out to play, prowling the dunes in search of their next meal.
But there's a beauty to the desert at night, a quiet kind of beauty that's all its own. It's in the way the moon casts its silver glow across the sand, turning it into a sea of shimmering light. It's in the way the nocturnal creatures sing their songs, a symphony of howls and chirps that echo through the night air.
And then there's the silence, a profound silence that seems to stretch on for eternity. It's like the desert is holding its breath, waiting for something to break the spell. But in that silence, there's also a sense of peace, a calmness that settles over you like a comforting blanket.
So if you ever find yourself wandering through the desert at night, remember to tread lightly and keep your wits about you. For while the night may be beautiful, it's also a time when the desert reveals its true nature, a wild and untamed force of nature that demands respect and reverence. And if you're lucky, you might just catch a glimpse of the magic that lies beneath the surface of this harsh and unforgiving, brutal and never-ending-"
"Sebastian?" Peg sniffed through a partially blocked nose. "Is that you?"
Though it took a moment for his form to become visible in the dark stillness of the night, it ultimately did and just like that she was staring into the picture of her childhood once more.
"It's me alright," he said, dropping down to a knee to address her, "in the blood and in the flesh."
"Where did you go? Back on the train?" she immediately asked of him. "You were there one minute and gone the next."
"Can never stay grounded for too long," Sebastian reasoned. "That's how they catch you off guard."
Peg shook her head in confusion, "They? Who are they?"
"You know," he insisted. "They. They're always out looking, listening. The second you get even a little comfortable they'll be barking up your door like a couple of hellhounds on your trail."
"Sebastian, you're not making any sense."
"Well, gather 'round then, 'cause I got words but no song and I'm fixin' to peel back the layers of deception and lay bare the cold, hard truth. Y'see, there's them folks up high in their ivory towers, pullin' the strings of society like puppeteers in the dark. They're mixin' up concoctions to cloud our minds, bendin' us to their will with invisible chains of control. But that ain't the half of it, not by a long shot. There's dark rituals bein' conducted by them secret societies, callin' forth forces beyond our reckonin', twistin' fate to suit their own ends. And them stars up above? They ain't just pretty lights, no sir. They're beacons guidin' the hand of destiny, manipulated by them shadowy figures pullin' the strings of fate. And what about the truths they keep locked away, hidden from prying eyes? The origins of our kind, the secrets of the universe, and the existence of beings beyond our comprehension? They're keepin' us in the dark, feedin' us lies to keep us in line. But mark my words, I've seen through their veil of deception, and I ain't about to rest 'til the light of truth shines bright for all to see."
When the frown on her face went nowhere, he opened his mouth to add more to what he had said and was stopped only by a croaking voice.
"Why do you always have to do this Sebastian?" Mutton asked, a hint of annoyance underlying a tone which had just woken up. "You're scaring the poor thing now."
"I'm freeing her mind is what I'm doing," Sebastian argued.
"And I'm not a talking bird," Mutton retorted.
Peg looked between both of them under dim light which hid the bewildered expression on her face, "You can understand each other too?"
"Since the beginning of time," Mutton answered dryly. "You shouldn't be listening to him so much, he has a way of making you scared of every word your tongue would usually speak without trouble."
"What do you know bird brain?" Sebastian scoffed.
"More than you'll ever know."
"Why I ought'a-"
"Wait!" Peg stopped them both before man and bird could begin a scrap. "I'm still lost here. How do the two of you know each other? And how do you understand each other? And on that note, how do you understand me?"
Sebastian took a deep breath in, deeper still as though there should have been a cigar between his lips, "He's a little shit who enjoys toying around with life. As in, he mocks it every chance he gets. I'm someone who appreciates life and would prefer to see it come to a beautifully slow crawl near the end."
"He tends to ruin every chance at fun and I tend to bring the realities of life to the forefront and when two guys like us are forced to work together, well, they end up being able to speak with one another pretty well."
"So the two of you work together? Like coworkers?"
"Only cause we're forced to," Sebastian said with a shrug, "if I had my way, Mutton here, who picked that name to laugh about the lamb who was slain and all that, would be roasting over a fire, feathers and all like the scavenging waste he is."
"Hey," Mutton spoke up, something akin to sadness in his voice, "no need to get so personal. Not when we're just two guys picking up what the lord leaves behind. You always go and do that, make things personal when our existence by itself isn't even personal. That's fault. It's always been your fault. But you could never admit it, so you blamed it all on me. You always blamed it on me."
"Look at that," Sebastian said, his attention caught by something else. "The sun comes as it does, now, let me paint you a picture of this lovely dawn in this not so lovely desert. It's a time when the world holds its breath, waiting with bated breath for the first light to break over the horizon and chase away the shadows of the night."
"Sebastian what are you-"
"As the stars fade into the darkness, the sky begins to blush with shades of pink and orange, like a shy bride peeking out from behind her veil."
"Here he goes again," Mutton said with a sour mood, turning to Peg with a sigh, "we'll be lucky to get a word in anytime soon."
And as the sun makes its slow ascent, painting the clouds with hues of gold and crimson, you can almost feel the earth stirring beneath your feet, stretching its limbs after a long night's slumber.
But it ain't just the colors that'll leave you spellbound. No, sir, it's the sounds of dawn in the desert that'll stay with you long after you've left its dusty trails. The birds, they sing their morning songs, a chorus of chirps and trills that echo through the canyons and valleys, welcoming the new day with open arms.
And then there's the silence, a sacred silence that hangs in the air like a prayer. It's like the desert itself is holding its breath, waiting for that first ray of light to touch its parched earth and bring it back to life.
But as the sun climbs higher and the shadows retreat, the desert reveals its true beauty, a beauty that's raw and untamed, like a wild stallion running free across the plains. So if you ever find yourself out in the desert at dawn, take a moment to soak it all in. Watch as the world awakens around you, and feel the warmth of the sun on your face as it rises to greet the day. For in those fleeting moments between darkness and light, you'll find a kind of beauty that can only be found in the heart of the desert, a beauty that'll stay with you long after you've left its dusty trails behind.
