6

The wanderer moved on before the twilight could fully set in. At night he looked up and stared at the sky taking in the twinkling of a few sparsely placed stars above him.

It's almost as if mankind could fewer stars the closer they got to them. It's almost like with a lifelong dream, the closer you get, the smaller it seems.

It was a quiet night. As the wanderer did his best to keep the blackeyed woman out of his dreams, more stars died and the wind picked up to a grieving houling. Soon, the trees joined in, creaking so loud that sleeping was no longer an option.

Tired and accompanied by a slight headache the wanderer grabbed his belongings and set out on his way, just before sunrise.

A, clearly annoyed, Avemortis, soon joined and together, walked across the increasingly boring dune. For the first time in days, the wanderer heard the familiar screeching in the distance. Ever so quiet. Not for the first time the wanderer questioned whether there was some deeper meaning to the sound. A bait? Maybe a cry for help? He hoped that he would live long enough to find out.

Towards the evening, as the brutal sun started to retreat, the wanderer saw something that could only be a chain of mountains in the far distance. He sighed in relief and looked to Avemortis, who was flying above his head.

"Seems like we have a chance to escape into the shade sooner rather than later."

The bird replied nothing.