[Erasmus]

The Red Mountains were unlike any terrain that Erasmus had ever traversed, though this arid stretch was in many ways the counterpart to Za Kodan. The heat was relentless, but did not pierce him to the bone, and the rock walls of the surrounding canyons were whorled and rippled like light-play on the horizon, while the crumbling rock spires of Za Kodan were white and chalky like dried dogshit.

Water here was scarce, but not impossible to find. In Za Kodan, you had to claw your way past the earth's epidermis and when you grasped that precious vein you had to fight every man in the wasteland to keep it. Seeing water in such unfathomable quantities was still a staggering concept, though Erasmus was growing accustomed to the shock. Slowly, carefully, nervously, he was becoming accustomed, but a part of him would remain forever planted in the badlands, withering under the wasteland heat.

Erasmus and Pompilius were walking alongside a river that snaked through the canyon, and they had traveled that path until the sun set, drenching the Mountains in twilight. The sandstone walls illuminated like firelight, radiating bright orange like lingering horizon-blood pooled beneath a purple night sky. Once they retired to a nearby cavern, Erasmus contented himself through his restless hours by staring at the stars in the sky.

There were no stars in Za Kodan's sky. Nights were always pitch black.

Like many nights before this one, Erasmus found himself in a predicament. Even with Pompilius curled against him and the cool midnight air in his fur, he could not sleep. The cavern was large enough to shelter them without sparking his claustrophobia. Nightmares were always a threat hanging at the back of his mind, but his thoughts, while scrambled, were unburdened. Maybe, despite all the time he had spent in the worlds beyond the wasteland, he was still unused to slumbering beneath a star-filled sky. Erasmus chuffed quietly, and, careful not to disturb Pompilius, pried himself from beside him and proceeded towards the river.

Erasmus stood on the riverbank, ears carefully pricked for unexpected approach. Golden eyes darted from side to side, still an ingrained precaution, before he bowed his head to drink.