Luneshale Pass sword of destiny

@Saya

The air was heavy with heat, the scent of sunbaked stone and stubborn vegetation clinging to the wind. Each step kicked up a faint cloud of chalky dust, mingling with the sharp tang of cholla and agave.

Kóvictus was no coward.

His lips curled into a faint snarl as he caught the faint skitter of a desert mouse retreating into the scrub, its tiny life unworthy of his attention. Let the lesser creatures cower.

He reached the dry banks of the river. He knelt his crown for a few quick laps, rivulets which fell down his thick snout in quick ascent.

Kóvictus would not linger. His paws carried him forward, leaving faint prints in the powdery dust.