The arid desert of the Alik’r is home to a surprising number of goats. They feed on the pitiful vegetation that springs tentatively from the cracked dry ground. Also surprisingly, I find no leavings of the goats in the dry land. Perhaps they eat them too.
The sun burns slow in the Alik’r Desert. I feel the sand against my skin, drawing the moisture from my tired body. I must move before the night falls. The coyotes come.
“And the dead tree gives no shelter, the crickets no relief” ~ The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot