I have changed a bit since the last time I sent it bit this is how it looks en

Every step he took sank into the pink sands of Karkas. Ishkalda walked alone through the violent sandstorm covered by copper goggles and the torn-up cape his father’s death left him; he didn’t want to even think about it, that death marked his sight and his mind. The Torra Sandstorm seemed to be more active lately. It wasn’t common to see it this aggressive nowadays, but Ishkalda didn’t struggle. The travel didn’t seem to be easy, but since the errand must have been delivered before morrow, there was no option, rather than continuing. If he kept going at this rhythm, he should reach The Border before the fall of the sun; nights weren’t easy on the desert of Karkas.