His hands elegantly knead the dark brown dough in an old-fashioned clay pot, standing briefly up to get a glass bottle filled with a purple-red tinted powder. He calls it "Nafasian spice" and puts a generous amount of it in and then kneads it evenly all over the dough, letting it lay on the sand for a while. He blows out the fire with a large thin fan from his tent, making room for the bread to be finally put into the blistering charcoal to bake under it.
"You know, this land was once a large beautiful forest. But the opening of our borders for more external investors. The "Trifecta" territories have since bought up a lot of land, including some of the Hermon desert." Bratus says poking with a stick, holes into the sand above the bread
"What is that company called? You know I was on Moira, they have the same exact problem, although their situation is way worse right now."
"It is called Yard LLC."
"I see, but that company doesn't ring any bells for me. The one on Moira is called Ularntur, buying even land on the shell of the giant sand walkers."
"Terrific, it's like all these companies are after is money and expansion in these times."
The man sways the sand and charcoal dust away of the top of the now ready loaf. He plunges his hands into a cold bowl of water and picks up the steaming hot loaf of the sand.
"Would you mind getting the large plate from my backpack there?" he points with his eyes to it to Mina
"Sure."
Mina stands up, searching for the plate and finding it finally.
He slaps the bread onto the plate, breadcrumbs falling off, and the bread cracking in various patterns it steams with the temperature and the smells of the old sweet spice.
He claps his hands pointing up, mumbling to himself.
Indeed, I Bratus thank you for another bread given by thy divine hand. As I laugh with joy and weep in sorrow, I celebrate your suffering in every foot and every thought of my soul.
"Ah-taqir" ending his prayer
"You are of the children of Moira?"
"Indeed, I am. In a world full of believing people, I belong to the few rare ones of Moira." the old man chuckles lightly, breaking the bread and giving a piece to Mina.
The bread crunches and explodes with flavor on her tongue.
"It's delicious!"
"Oh, really? I'm glad you enjoy it!"
The sun flees over the horizon, and the cold breeze over the dunes hits the small feast and the camp. Mina and Fotia stand up, ready to continue their pilgrimage to Ghaya.
"Well, it looks like it's time to say goodbye. Be careful on your journey and take care of your souls." he smiles looking up to them
"Wait you are staying here?" she shockingly responds
"Of course I live here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am" Bratus nods, waving his final goodbye to them wandering away as he slowly vanishes with the moonlight behind their backs.
Walking over various dunes of different sizes, the horizon does not seem to change, a fleeting sandscape in every direction you look. Both do not remember how long they wandered through the dull and monotone desert. Yet Fotia spots a small shimmering light far away on the vast dark horizon.
Could that be Bratus? I thought he would stay at his camp. But wait, he doesn't look like him, who is that?
Mina notices Fotia's stare into the distance.
"Do you see something?"
Fotia nods, pointing towards seemingly nothing in Mina's eyes.
"I don't see anything there. Are you sure there is something there Fotia?" she squints her eyes towards the direction Fotia points at, leading to the same conclusion.
"Come on, we don't have all the time in this world!" she continues wandering through the sand, with Fotia following her.
Back at the river crossing, the cloaked hunter finds clues to Mina.
"I'm going to follow up and then report later." stopping to speak in his wrist, he walks through the Hermon's crossing.
The white cloak around his shoulders reach to the water getting a bit wet, but he shakes the white fabric to get it dry, continuing his hunt. The once present footsteps leading to both wandering souls, now lost in the ever-last landscape void of life, the Hermon stretch.
It couldn't have been worse. All day, all night, all I do is walk these damn problems of them off. I'll be so damn happy if this nutjob is done.
He sighs through his white porcelain mask, not noticing Bratus Infront of him.
"Well, Hello, young man" he greets him
"Who are you?"
"Bratus is my name and yours?"
"I don't need to tell you old man. Did you meet any female about the same height as me, black mask with red horns and curly hair?" he asks
"Why don't you sit with me and talk what is bothering you."
"What are you talking about?"
The small earpiece in the ear of the white cloaked man starts to buzz.
"Koltis, did you find them yet?"
Koltis answers into his wrist device under the long robe.
"Concentrate on the objective." the buzz ends
Koltis looks back to the man, now standing with the lever action pointing to his chest.
"Woah woah, let us calm down." Putting his arms in the air.
"Tell me, are you some form of a cultist?" Bratus asks calmly
His thoughts only lead to his two holsters on his hip, waiting for an opening to quickly grab one of his white silver-coated M2911.
"No."
"Well, your outfit says otherwise." Bratus clocks the cleaned hammer back with his thumb and placing his middle finger onto the trigger.
The red veins of his eyes start to show, until he goes for his shot. His hands start to fall to his holster, grabbing the black stripped grip with his 4 fingers while unlocking the safety of the pistol. As Koltis unlocked the safety, Bratus shot once into his chest. Koltis flew a few meters back onto the sand.
Bratus sighed but quickly noticed the lack of blood coming from his chest. Him not being in the firing position, he quickly tries to clock the hammer again and point at Koltis on the ground.
A loud thunderous clap vibrated in the air. At last, it was too late for him.