Leon's eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. Greeted by the same blood red light as always along with the chilling gaze of the Red Moon; quickly rising himself from the fetal position he had ended up sleeping in he surveyed his surroundings.
As always, all that spanned the horizon was an endless sea of black sand, an uncomfortable silence always seemed to hang static in the air as if there was a predator nearby at all times.
Once Leon had finished his brief surveying of his surroundings he stood and contemplated for a second,
'Where should I go…'
Since Leon had entered the Black Sands he hadn't really had a choice of what he was to do. He could try and find his way back towards the city, but he was sure that if he survived the trip and made it back he would quickly be hung at the gallows. Plus, there was also the question of where the strength he had used to fight the slug came from.
Leon was feeling surprisingly weak even after he had ripped the flesh of a monster apart with his bare hands, that strength seemed to have long left his body during his slumber. With a shake of his head Leon decided.
Leon began walking straight, unsure of whether it was north, west, east, or south. He began to walk. His footsteps, albeit weak, were determined and steady.
Leon continued to walk, one foot after another for what felt like hours, maybe even days. It was impossible to tell with the static Red Moon sitting atop its throne at the apex of the sky. Occasionally he would hear the sound of roaring creatures, or a tremble underfoot. But, what gave him the most disturbing feeling was the silence.
When there was no battle being fought in the distance, and no monsters traveling through the ocean of Black Sand; all that remained was silence. An eerie silence no less, as if someone was always staring holes through the back of his neck. The hair on the back of his neck would constantly stand on end, his heart beating at a fast pace. At some point during the journey he began looking over his shoulder, again, and again, hoping to catch what was making him feel this way.
There was never anything behind him.
"Damn desert." Leon would mumble to himself every now and then but kept his feet steady.
Eventually, Leon's throat began to dry, his stomach began to send out earthquakes through his body. Still steady, Leon attempted to ignore it. Soon, the dryness residing in his throat began to feel like someone had set fire to his mouth. His stomach began to cramp, as if it was attempting to digest itself.
'Shit, I need water.' Leon knew he could go longer without food, but water was an entirely different story. Already a day without food and water, along with the consumption of energy as a result of his fight, Leon was getting dangerously dehydrated.
Leon scanned the horizon, hoping for some sort of water, even just a puddle. Nothing entered his line of sight.
Gritting his teeth, Leon continued to walk.
Time passed.
"COUGH" Leon let out a dry cough, the only liquid that came out was the blood from his throat that had long since become as dry as paper. His legs had begun to cramp ages ago, his steps now uneasy.
"Shit!" Leon slipped and let out a painful cry, twisting his ankle in an unnatural way. Luckily it wasn't broken. Leon attempted to push himself up from the sand. His triceps quivering intensely before he once more collapsed in the sand.
'Water… Water…'
Leon began to use his hands to claw through the sand, horrendously ineffective; left hand then right hand, before giving a small push from his legs. He continued at a snail's pace.
Time passed once more.
Leon was now enduring through pure instinct, his eyes had long since become unfocused as he continued to claw himself through the sand. His determination to live, to see the blue sky his mother told him about was his only motivation to continue through the suffering he was experiencing.
Suddenly, over the crest of a dune of black sand, Leon caught sight of the top of a small wooden building. Ignited with fervor, Leon began to claw at the sand like a mad animal. Once at the top he saw a small village. The cottages were made of a deep brown wood, with smoke coming from the small chimneys cut into the thatch roofs.
In the center of the small village was a well. Made from what looked like pure black onyx, it caught the gleam of the red moonlight. Walking throughout the small village were many people, some in robes of illustrious silk, others wearing nothing but rags. Weirdly enough, they all seemed to be getting along with each other. It was clear that they came from vastly different backgrounds.
Leon, feeling a small burst of strength, rose to his feet. Enraptured by the prospect of fresh well water he began to walk with unsteady feet.
'Water…'
Leon repeated the word to himself over and over again during his journey, all his body could think of was water. Nothing else entered his mind, like the seemingly glazed over glances that people casted him as he walked closer and closer to the village.
Eventually coming onto a small gravel path, Leon continued to walk, even as his feet were cut by the sharp stones that lined the ground.
"Would you like some water?" A man came up to Leon, a smile on his lips.
Leon ignored the man, continuing to walk towards the well. The man, who wore nothing but a loin cloth, seemingly didn't mind as he took the liberty to walk in front of Leon, guiding him towards the well at the center of the village.
"You see, we're a village of survivors. Many of us were sentenced to our death, others were merely overtaken by their adventurous spirit." The man began to talk, explaining to Leon about the village; not minding the fact that Leon clearly wasn't listening to him.
"The Black Sands are unforgiving and harsh. But, luckily the Chief established this village. With the Chief's grace, we have food… and water."
The two of them came to a stop right before the black well. The man took the liberty of lowering the bucket that hung from a rope above the well into the water; seeing that Leon clearly had no ability to operate his fine motor skills at this point.
"Drink as much as you need." The man handed the bucket to Leon who began to furiously drink from it. Not caring about spilling any, he was seemingly an endless vacuum not allowing a single drop to miss his mouth.
The man smiled at Leon before he turned his back,
"Fatty! How was the hunt?" The man began to converse with someone as he walked back to one of the numerous shacks. Alone.
Leon finally finished the bucket, collapsing to his bottom and taking deep breaths. He collected himself, his gray eyes gaining some of their luster back as well as a strange reflection to them.
With that, Leon fell asleep, right at the base of the well; and when he awoke, his joyful life at the village had just begun.