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Fortune favors the brave
The desert, midday, was at its hottest. The pharaoh was used to such weather, easily maneuvering the dunes beyond his oasis home. He'd been out hunting, and had come up with a small impala. It wasn't much but it would suffice. Mory needed it more than himself he was certain, he was a fit and young man while mory was a much softer male. He was well packed with muscle and his harsher existence in the desert showed in his body type.
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This had been the worst and most trying time in her young life. She blamed herself for getting lost, not watching where she was going as she left Archon and the other band members to go out and slake her wanderlust. It wasn't by intention that she had made it so far into the desert, her paws guided her here and she had been instantly aware of her unfamiliar surroundings. Her first week in the desert was spent trying to find a way out of it, away from the heat and blindingly bright sun. She had been unsuccessful in each attempt she made to escape the harsh sands and smoldering, blistering heat. Mirages had become commonplace in the months she spent trying to figure out how to escape from her own personal hell of sunlight and sand, slowly becoming mad the more her brain boiled in her skull. Archon and the Fallen Band had become an ever decreasing thought as survival instincts and the need for water slowly took precedence over everything else. Her conscious mind became a swirling whirlwind of fever dreams and the need to eat, anything and everything turned into a potential meal as the she-beast moved through the sands and over dunes. The devil was made for northern climates, for snow and ice, her pelt thick and suffocating in the heat. It was no surprise that a mild heat stroke had taken over her mind, lending itself to the darker impulses she felt as she traveled. Already, two of her would-be rescuers had been demolished and devoured by the woman. Her God may look down and watch with disgust as she digested her saviors like animal crackers, but her mind had reverted back to its original state. It wasn't until the third month that she found any sort of relief from the harsh environment she had been in for so long. Unsure if it was a mirage or reality, Dea stared for a long time at the small watering hole. She was almost afraid to take a step toward it, for fear it would vanish and she would be left with an aching depression on top of all of her other ailments. Severely dehydrated, the demoness knew she would need water and would be forced to find out if the figment was true or false. Dea moved toward the gleaming surface of the pool, and she was reminded of when she turned the shrine's pool red with her blood. The scar over her eye throbbed as if it were new when she looked back, promising herself she would go after the insolent woman once she made it out of the desert. Slowly, with an unsteady gait that suggested she would fall over from exhaustion and the fire of the day, Dea made her way toward the supposed hallucination. She wouldn't make it to her destination, instead falling over and succumbing to her ailments, Dea lost consciousness almost halfway to the cooling and blessed waters of the oasis. Vultures began to circle in the air, making a scene and squabbling over who would get the choicest meats from her. Surely, anyone nearby would come save her from the scavengers and Death. Walk, "Talk" Think |