Rosewater Oasis Killed him, took his name, and I got new glasses.

The man before him was not a god, but someone else, instead. He smelled of other wolves, and Nokht still felt every earthly sensation. He moves with a sort of feline elegance, a picture of perfection in the face of its sheer opposite. The stranger's shadow washes over him and he preaches of Salvation.

I don't believe you. He mutters in boyish dismissal, panting as the desert heat took his toll on him. Crushed leg screamed in pain, but Nokht kept his reactions within. He had been taught how, after all, he had to. He still felt the stare of one-eye from the shadows. Heard the hound in every rustling bush. That fear, unshaken, motivated him to follow this stranger, who did not reek of green or rot.

Once again, he left him behind and dipped beneath the dunes, inviting a game of chase. Nokht walked in the same prints left behind, until they stopped at the cusp of a sandstone peak, looking down on a vast oasis; lush vegetation framed the outskirts of clear blue waters, tall palms overhead reached to the heavens.

He turned to face him, straightening his posture and sizing the man up Who are you?