The terrible sun baked the cracked earth below as Aliz staggered on. The caravan left him for dead after a skeletal bear attack. It must have been an ancient being, from when this dry land was once green and alive. Now the undead were all that crawled here. One foot in front of another, that was the only way. The dwarf wrapped a scarf around his beard to keep out the dust. Ahead was a steep dune.
As Aliz approached the mountain of sand, the tracks of the caravan disappeared. There was no wind to erase the tracks. No, some evil was at work here. He went down to inspect the tracks and jerked his hand back just in time. A cobra! It shouldn’t be here. Nothing lives in these wastes. He dove out of the way as a dozen scorpions flew through the air straight at him. This could mean only one thing.