this desert rose has thorns

The cold of the winter forced Rava to reevaluate the way she lived out here in the desert. The cloaked woman didn’t often see others of her kind, unless you knew how to live in this desolate place it could be dangerous. That was one reason she was out here, Rava owned the sand. No one wanted to fight her for it. She was comfortable here, with the cold weather it was easier to travel during the morning and the evening.

Sunset was on its way and as the sun approached the horizon Rava emerged from the den she was using. The galaxy marked woman was a nomad, she moved along the desert never staying in one place for more than a night as she drifted from one oasis to the next. All she owned was the cloak on her back, but Rava had devolved into a simplistic lifestyle. She was a scavenger, yes, but she was a survivor. Her paws hardened after so much time on the sand, her body had developed into a sleek but well muscled form.

Rava was thankful for her cloak, it protected from the sun’s harsh rays but also kept her warm during the bitter cold nights. It waved gently at her legs as she strode forward, confident in every step as she retraced her trail to bring her back to the tiny oasis. One palm tree, luckily enough it looked like it had coconuts in its branches, and a bit of dried grass concealed the tiny spring. Rava approached and eagerly lowered her lips to the water to quench her thirst.