Shimmering Sands heat death

Someone from Rusalka, perhaps?

Shimmering white sand as far as the eye could see. Her mouth was dry and sticky and tasted foul. She had run far away from… before… and ended up here, the opposite but the same. She had almost died from the flame, and now she would die from the heat of the sun. The hardened sand beneath her paws baked in the noonday heat and her paws were burning, drying out, reopening old wounds from before. Her head swam and before her eyes the fairies which had followed her out of the forest flitted about. Keep going, they encouraged her. Or die, some added, maliciously. 

On the edge of collapsing, she stumbled ever onward, her mind fracturing between the present and the past. The heat, the flame, the smoke, the sand, the distant sound of the ocean, the cry of many animals fleeing the forest, the wavering, flickering air in front of her, caused by flame… or was it just the sun playing tricks? She panted in an attempt to stay cool but the air baked her lungs.

Bloody paw prints left a trail behind her as she pushed herself forward.

what drove erzulie out into the grove she did not know.
perhaps she looked for the cat.
perhaps she looked for reyes. for nieve. for marisol.
all gone off into the expanse. the harlot melted away like oil spreading across the roots of seaflowers, and was swallowed by the shard-tooth leaves of the coconut trees.
out she paced to the vast expanse of salt desert, where it stretched across until her eyes saw no more. exposed to the sun, the flatland had cracked, and beneath the heaviness of the daytime stare, her own cinnamon-milk fur began to heat. but still erzulie pressed forward, until a tint to the wind dragged her mismatched gaze down.
blood.
smeared in the prints, a trail along which the healer hurried, mindful of her own lagging energy as finally she came upon the weaving figure staggering through the sands. erzulie chuffed, even as she drew closer, moving sidelong to the sunbeat wolf. a woman. "come wid me. you bleed. you will soon be burnt to death."

A woman appeared before her like a vision, but Selina assumed her mind was simply playing tricks on her. Since leaving her home, she had often found herself at the mercy of wolves—strange or familiar—when between the state of awake and asleep. They tormented her dreams and followed her into the waking world until she finally gathered the strength to wake fully. Yet still, they seemed to linger at the corners of her vision, just out of reach, waiting for her to let her guard down so they could attack her.

Never had one appeared to her in the middle of the day, and never had one seemed so… real. So solid. It was the sun; it had caused a mirage. She blinked, expecting the ghost to disappear, but it remained, and now it spoke to her.

Come wid me. You bleed. You will soon be burnt to death.

It took an eternity for the words to make sense in her head, and all the while she swayed on the spot and stared at the vision with glassy eyes. A strange accent, one Selina had never heard before. You bleed.

Head still swimming, she glanced down at herself and saw no obvious wounds. She looked up at the woman again, though the action of moving her head made her feel she was about to pass out. She tried to speak, but the heat and dehydration seemed to have glued her throat closed. A strange, garbled sound was all that came out of her mouth. Dumbly, she nodded once, and began to walk again, stumbling from the pain in her paws and her lack of… everything: lack of sustenance, willpower… even her body itself seemed to be growing translucent, but that, of course, was simply another hallucination.

heatstroke wreathing in those baubled eyes. erzulie recognized the severity of the sun's touch upon the other. fire seemed to shimmer from the wraith. silently she slipped closer, set her shoulder against the woman's own. birdbone. fragility. jaws parting to speak. the harlot shook her head. best to save one's strength.
the balmy branches of the coconut grove were not far off. she believed the stranger could make it there, and set a firm but measured pace for them both.
and when the shade of the leaves stretched out to darken the sand beneath their paws, erzulie motioned that the sunstruck woman should rest against the slender bole of one tree. "i am going to bring you water," she murmured, stooping to glance into the other's harried features. @Stryx would be a welcome companion for this, but erzulie was alone, and slid off to locate a pool of freshwater she could carry back in a patch of sea-lichen.

Selina allowed herself to be carried along by the woman, stumbling beside her incoherently. Even the fairies left her alone now, for she was too exhausted to conjure them. They made it to a palm forest, something Selina had never seen before, but she could not appreciate it now. The woman said something to her but her brain was too fuzzy to understand it; she simply sank down against the tree that the woman had left her beside and dozed off in the time it took for the woman to return.

Half-standing as she was, she did not fall into a deep sleep, and her dreams were strange and fleeting, causing her eyelids to flutter were anyone around to see them.

when she returned, carefully clenching the cupped leaves filled with water, the she-wolf had fallen into a fitful slumber. erzulie set down her burden at the scorched paws, clucking over them briefly before reaching to nudge the other awake. without water, she might slip into a sun-death.
"drink," she ordered in a firm tone, crouched close to ensure that she was heeded. she could not leave the woman here; the harlot mulled over bringing her to rusalka, but now she must ascertain why she had found this one wandering.
"you be havin' a name, beauty?" the seawolf murmured, looking for any signs of the mind-melt that could be fatal or permanent beneath the harshness of the sun.

Selina awoke with a start at the woman’s command: “Drink.” She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering open and gazing unseeingly for a moment or two before reality crashed back down around her. She looked down at the water in the leaves and suddenly lurched forward, lapping at the liquid—the blood of the gods—with reckless abandon.

Too soon, she was asked for her name, and her brain scrambled and swam around inside her head in utter confusion. She did not answer for a time, licking the leaves until there was not a drop of water left on any of them. Feeling somewhat better, but still perilously close to death or unconsciousness, she lifted her head with a wobble and looked at the woman with her grey-blue eyes. 

“Selina,” she whispered, the S-sound coming from her maw like a whiplash, while the rest of her name flowed from her tongue like mist in the early morning.

mismatched gaze watched as the slight girl drank. selina. moon-child. the name tasted of different things, but the stranger was not yet out of the proverbial grove. "erzulie of rusalka," the harlot offered.
eyes the color of a stormcloud blustering across the heavens. was there any such strife in the other's heart? she did not know, but understood that without fast work, she would never learn how she had found the straggling woman.
"selina. come wid me to rusalka. if you stay here, dere be a great chance you will die." healer's heart speaking now; she could no more leave the she-wolf here than she could have abandoned anyone else.
"dat way, to de moorlan'," erzulie went on, gently gesturing in that direction.

Erzulie’s strange accent made it difficult for Selina to follow what she was saying, though she was sure part of the confusion was due to dehydration. What she had gathered was that the woman wanted her to come with her somewhere. Selina did not care where they were going; she did not care about anything. She gazed at Erzulie with blank eyes and then stood on somewhat shaky legs and began to walk in the gestured direction. 

Erzulie had given her water to keep her from dying, and that was enough encouragement for Selina to trust her for now. She had come from a group of fae deep in a forest untouched by others; she had never experienced the feeling of distrust. She was broken and and her mind was shattered, but she was no longer alone. It was enough.

Fairies danced just outside the edges of her vision, flitting about her as she followed Erzulie to Rusalka. She is not like us, they warned her. 

No one is like us, Selina replied. Our kind is dead. I am the last.

End? Perhaps a new one at the borders of RUS?