Cielo watched with silent horror as the small group of horses slowly trodded over black sand. It was night, yet the skies were dyed red, sinister in the darkness.
He hadn't said a word since they broke the cover of trees, not because he had nothing to say but because he had completely lost what little strength he had left.
They had ridden across grassy plains for a while, and for a moment, he felt something akin to hope, hope that they were soon to return to civilization. He would have given everything right then for a hot bath and a bed, it didn't even have to be a specially made bed.
Even the barest of beds was far better than the past two nights he had spent sleeping on the hard ground.
But, of course, there was no such luck, because after hours of riding through the grassy plains, well past sundown, and well past the time they usually stopped to take a break, the grassy plains abruptly disappeared.
