Day Seven-Hundred-Eleven: Worse than Breath of Fire III

Holy gods. Nagi... Nagi was right. The fringes were nothing like the interior of the fucking desert.

We passed into the true desert of the western wastes sometime this morning, after a long, sleepy weekend. My dreams in that time were fantastically unsettling, and a massive, hazy fog seemed to slip from dream to dream, following me. I can't say what it was, of course, but every time it appeared... someone seemed to die.

Everyone but Iko. Iko... he kept popping up. He has... pointy hair... and kind of a boxy hat... and he always hides his hands. Why does he hide his hands?

And how did I know it was Iko...?

Blargh. Anyway. Eventually the cold tickled my toes a little too much, and I woke up shivering in my tent. Jeffrey, my tent-mate, seemed to rouse shortly after I did, and when we trundled out of our sleeping bags and into the sand we found everyone else already awake and slowly packing their gear.

Nagi slithered up to me. Her hair was dishevelled and she looked to be quivering quite a bit under her many layers, but her eyes were wide and alert. She held a small dagger in one hand. "Stay still."

I tensed. The rest of the camp watched, apparently fixated on something I couldn't see. I heard Logan mutter 'Holy crap, that's a biggun', and Nagi's blade flashed out -

- and when it pulled back, there was a dying hydra scorpion skewered on the tip. Its three tails twitched, perhaps seeking one last victim, then went limp.

Nagi flicked the scorpion off of the dagger and cleaned the blade. "Don't move if you find one'a those on you. They like heat, and they're quick to sting. Ask someone else to mop it up for you."

"Another thing you might've warned us about before we left the Dauphine," I grumbled. "Thanks. We going somewhere?"

Nagi pointed in the general direction we'd already been travelling. Her hand quavered noticeably as a shiver ran from her spine to the tip of her finger "Y... yup. We have four, maybe five hours before the sun sets this place a-blazing. Best we walk while it's cool."

"The heat doesn't much bother you, but the cold obviously does," I said, already helping Jeffrey pull down our tent. "Yet you seem really gung-ho to travel by night."

Nagi tossed a piece of smoked beef in her mouth, chewing and watching as Logan pulled down their tent. All problems forgiven, I guess. "I... do what's smart. You want to survive in the desert, you wander by night. The stars and the moon help you navigate. Less pit stains that way, as well, which is a bonus to a fair damsel like myself."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't think snake people sweat in the first place."

Nagi hefted her bosom and winked. "Do I look like a full snake person, boss man?"

We travelled, we sweat, we complained, and, eventually, we made camp. I can only hope that Plato, who is always pointing the way, knows where the hell he's going. I distracted myself from the thought of getting lost by asking why in the hell desert beetles only eat wood, and the lack of a proper answer from Nagi didn't help a whole lot. What do they eat the rest of the time?

Who knows. For now I sleep, and I pray that my next set of dreams will not be invaded by gaseous terrors.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Wanderer