“Brett 328AR Sunlight was heavy in the desert. More than heat or brightness, it was an oppressive weight, and Arlen kept finding himself hunching over as if to yield before it. He was riding through the outskirts of the Krasian Desert, where there was nothing but cracked flats of dry clay as far as the eye could see in any direction. Nothing to provide shade or reflect heat. Nothing to sustain life. Nothing to make a sane person wander out here, Arlen scolded himself, nevertheless straighten...ing his back in defiance of the sun. He had a thin white robe on over his clothes, the hood pulled low over his eyes, and a veil over his mouth and nose. The cloth reflected some of the light, but it seemed scant protection. He had even slung a white sheet over his horse, a bay courser named Dawn Runner. The horse gave a dry cough, attempting to dislodge the ever-present dust from its throat. “I’m thirsty too, Dawn,” Arlen said, stroking the horse’s neck, “but we’ve used our water ration for the morning, so there’s nothing for it but to endure.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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