Lion's Head Mesa toy soldier's march

He had gone as bid; legs and paws carrying him so quickly the warm breeze could hardly halt him - he pushed hard, fast, waltzing the dunes as if it were his eldest friend. To Akashingo, Pharaoh Samirseti had wished. He knew not what awaited him, but Andalib wasn't unwise to the strange taste in the air as he hedged into the region.

He had never been here, drawn only by fading scents and the place's grandeur, and what awaited him, as he clipped to the edge of safe land, drew him to a freezing stop. His legs ached as though he had traveled long enough, and it should have been the place - save for the picture of utter ruin. Dredges of water that did not suit the land remained, shimmering in the sun.

What was he to do, if Akashingo was not a place any longer? His jaw fell slack, eyes like pearls in his head. In this, he felt like a tiny pebble in a grand sea - awashed by the reality of fate, and all it told. He wandered blindly a swath, almost clumsy as he marveled at it all. Across the stillness, he barked, listening to it echo briefly, before fading away. A mere blip. Did anyone else remain?