The Oasis

Walking beneath a cloudless sky, Clove is nearly melting beneath the heat of the Auster summer sun. The sand beneath her paws is warm, an expanse of golden, towering dunes stretching out as far as the eye could see. Vultures circled in the sky above her, and for several miles, they followed her. Waiting to see if she would make it across the desert. But Clove wasn’t a beginner navigator anymore; she knew how to conserve her energy, to stop and rest in the shade of the mangroves, and to take slow drinks from the canister of water she’d brought along. And despite the harshness of the desert, it was teeming with life; small creatures scurrying near the roots of the mangroves, while birds of prey roosted in the branches. If they could make a life out here, Clove could pass through on her way to Tojo Kai. She was sure of it.

She’d entered an area rich in dragon mangroves, creating an oasis of sorts. She’d stop to study them closer, in awe of their beauty. Their roots coiled and twisted, creating patterns in the sand at their bases. Gnarled branches spread out and intertwined with others, creating natural archways and a canopy of leaves. The temperature had dropped drastically beneath the mangroves, providing temporary relief. But it wouldn’t last long.

She heard the snarling before she saw them; a pack of dingos, whose territory she’d unknowingly entered. They emerged from behind the towering trunks of the mangroves, bearing their fangs and ushering her out of their oasis. Clove didn't think. She acted purely on impulse, morphing into a fight-or-flight response. Her paws scrambled beneath her, legs propelling her deeper into the oasis as she ran away from the danger. But this elicited a predatory response from the dingos. They started chasing after her. 

Frantically, Clove is searching for a way out. But all she can see is dragon mangroves, each blending into the next and creating a mangled mess of forestry. She couldn’t outrun them forever. She couldn’t fight them either. She needed a way to hide, to get out of their reach until they became bored and left. 

A juvenile mangrove appeared to her right, and Clove pivoted and ran straight for it. Leaping up against the trunk, frantically pulling herself up into the low-hanging branches. But she wasn’t fast enough. A dingo caught her back right paw, trying to pull her back down and she screamed. Kicking it with her other paw, she wedged herself loose. Climbing up onto the branch and holding on for dear life, as the pack leapt up and snapped at her repeatedly. Missing her by inches. Blood dripping from her paw and onto the sand below. 

She was terrified. 

"Clove Carpathius"