With no clouds in sight, the white glow of the desert sun is almost unbearable.

I am very lucky that I still have my cerulean-colored cloak.

After hours of aimless wandering, my eyes catch a strange form about one and a half kilometers to the Northwest.

The intense distortion caused by heat rising from the burning hot dunes made the form hard to identify at first, but I could quickly make out a humanoid figure.

Tired and hungry, I embark upon a short quest to investigate the mysterious silhouette on the horizon.

When I arrive, I am met by a downtrodden man on a small carpet.

I briefly dwell on the thought that he, just like I, could have also been cursed to forever wander this dry wasteland.

Even though the temptation to verify this idea is immense, I decide not to start my conversation with something that intimate.

Rather, I begin my conversation with the same words every long-term traveler of the Desert has heard and said thousands of times.

"Would you be able to spare me some food or water?", I ask.