As the sun dips below the horizon, the temperature of the hot desert subsides a bit.
Camp is struck near a rocky uprising from the hard pan, like stubby fingers reaching towards the sky. Senior members camp inside or on top of wagons, leery of laying on ground where snakes and other venomous creatures can warm their bodies against.
Hard, oversalted and overcooked meat is served with some wilted greens and some mashed up roots but it's been a week since meat has been served and everyone seems to relish the change.
Miaspar, after his meal, stretches out a bit before looking for a place to perch himself. Unable to find any vegitation larger than some small scrub, he climbs his way to the top of the most stable rocks. He scans the horizon, looking for trouble, whether it is bandits or feral creatures.
As the stars take their place in the sky, winking with cold, distant light, it feels as if they draw the heat from the desert as you begin to see the mist of your breath begin to form.
Karven and Oloek, something of favorites of Teven, as far as he values any men above what they can do for him, are given accommodations on wagons.
Oloek, unable to find anything to drink, grumpily makes his way to his cart, pulling his blanket over himself as the cold wind causes it to whip around his body.
As he sleeps, it is restless as he sees himself on a vast plain. The grasslands extend in all directions. Although he can't see anything taller than some knee high grass, no buildings or trees, he feels claustraphobic. He feels as if he's being watched, that the sky is closing in on him... that he can almost see a face as the stars begin to move... and he wakes up, sweating in the cold wind, looking around. Only the tarps, stirring in the wind, move as he covers himself and tries to go back to sleep.
Karven, finally giving up on trying to make conversation with Oloek, finds Itzel and a few other humans sitting around the fire. Sitting, he tries to to join the conversation but mostly fails in his attempts. He had hoped that being amongst other races taht his magic abilities would be more accepted but he sees that he most are still fearful of magic.
As the embers die down and everyone except those guards that have night duty make their way to their bedrolls, Karven climbs up on the wagon, noticing that the familiar stars have an almost red tinge to them.