Lion Head Mesa you listen to a talking snake and there's gonna be trouble.

A voice carried over his shoulder.

Soon a young woman was standing beside him, watching the sky as he watched it, and when she spoke he drew his attention away to look at her. The silvers of her pelt were made to blush with shades of lavender and gold, catching on the sharpness of her features; glowing faintly within her pale gaze.

Raimo, he introduced after her name was shared; her question came after that, and while he wished he had a grand story to tell her, he did not.

Heatstroke. Or something very much worse. There was an edge of mirth to his voice despite the rest of him being so ragged and unfriendly in apperance. It was no laughing matter - almost dying - but it would make for a good story one day, if he could spin it.

I have never seen a place such as this before.