Feet on crimson earth, one after the other, trodding, trekking, walking the dry path of the red rocks.
It stretched endlessly before the party of six, a reddish landscape bathed in the harsh glare of Spheris's worse enemy — the spiky sun.
The Drought Calamity was still on going, and it was clear. The air was dry, and each breath was like inhaling sand. The oppressive heat pressed down on them, exacerbated by the harshness of the Neverending Calamities.
Spheris had his scarf folded once again, holding it by his side. Talon was on his shoulder, and his blank, stern countenance on his face.
As everyone else, he walked in silence. It seemed to be the only thing they'd been doing ever since the Gallied Mountains: Walking.
Like usual, Spheris was lost in thoughts, but occasionally his mind would drift to a certain friend and he glanced at her frequently, sometimes with worry in his eyes. Cerene, aware of his concern, returned his glances with a smile or a reassuring look.
