[Cards] Sream's Stoppered Oasis (Patreon)

Sream stopped and looked around. Nothing for miles: no food, no drink, no safety. The H'rethi Reach desert was harsh, she knew this going into it, but couldn't let it dissuade her from going on her pilgrimage.

Her supplies were running low, too. The nomads had offered her a deal in exchange for her life that left her almost entirely stranded. She could almost hear her mother's scolding already.

But Sream's determination was too strong to falter. She drank the last of her water and carried on. She would walk as far as she could and only focus on making it over the next dune.

One mile.

Two.

Three.

The day wore on. Slowly. Her legs were tired and fought in vain to keep herself upright against the shifting tides of the sand beneath her feet.

One last dune. I can make it.

She climbed, this time on her hands and feet. Left foot, right hand, right foot, left hand, left foot, right hand....

At the top was more of the same. Endless sand. Shimmering heat and mirroring air baking the waste into a deadly golden brown.

She cried. What else was there to do?

She fumbled for her tears, trying to keep them in. Every drop of water was precious at this point. They evaporated in the desert heat as soon as they could touch her hands, caking them in tiny spots of salt.

She laid down on top of the dune and closed her eyes, letting her tears flow over her cheeks and slip down her face before disappearing into the air.

As darkness took her, she felt one last tear streak down the path left by her others, finally reaching the desert sand.

She awoke some time later half-submerged in a pool of crystal clear water. An oasis, surrounded by lush plants? Death didn't seem so bad after all.

She drank the water and ate the fruits from the trees. The air was pleasant and still. Despite being dead, she felt refreshed and at peace.

Suddenly, a sound. Rattlesnakes?

She moved slowly to the sound, peering through the underbrush toward....

The nomads? Here? Fighting snakes?

Maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe this was the magic she'd heard about. Maybe this is what she was searching for.

The nomads moved silently over the sands without leaving prints behind them. They fought off the snakes, thinning the swarm with their scimitars.

From the brush, Sream rushed forward to tackle one of the nomads. He looked familiar: the one who'd taken her belongings days earlier. As the snakes coiled their way around the prone man, she rooted through his pockets and pack to find what she was missing.

Her hand brushed against it. Her wand.

She smiled and looked up at the nomads who were closing in around her. The snakes, now dwindling in number, didn't hesitate to strike at the intruders.

And, wand in hand, neither did Sream.