Mirages are all one sees upon first glance. A shimmering of life beyond the sand dunes and small desert beetles. He must keeping going, as his enemies are relentless and will not stop until his corpse is picked clean by the buzzards.
The Imperial Dunes provide a vantage point that may show a way to safety, if only he can climb the summit. His sandpaper tongue needs water, only a drop.
There is no time for such luxury though, and climb the summit he must.
An outpost can be seen in the far distance to the West, the exhaust from the machines of his enemies rises in the opposite direction.
It makes the choice clear, and so he stacks a pile of stones to provide a path for others that are on his side to follow.
A secret stacking known only to his tribe, as he carries on westward.
Moving under the dark shadows of the clouds.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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