Chronicles of Dras

Chapter 11: Predators and Prey

As the second night of their desert trial descended, the squad congregated under the skeletal shadow of the dead tree. They huddled together, their faces ghostly pale in the moonlight, their minds focused on the daunting task at hand: planning the rest of their journey. The desert was a merciless predator, and they would need to outwit it to survive.

"We need to hunt," declared Lorn, breaking the silence. His statement was met with nods of agreement. Their food supplies were dwindling fast, and they knew they would not last the morning.

Joren, ever the opportunist, suggested a more unscrupulous plan. "We could take from other squads," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. But his suggestion was met with immediate resistance.

"We only take what's abandoned," Dras countered firmly, his gaze meeting Joren's. "Otherwise, we hunt."

With the debate settled, they ventured into the cool desert night. Their journey was marked by the hushed whispers of the wind and the shifting sands beneath their feet. They moved southwest, guided by Maris's knowledge of the stars and the vague map they were provided.

The desert night, while eerily silent, was alive with the subtle stirrings of its nocturnal inhabitants. As they ventured deeper into its depths, the squad was rewarded with a stroke of good fortune. Two desert rabbits, their soft brown fur a stark contrast to the monotonous sea of sand, bounded into their path.

Dras and Lorn, working in quiet tandem, managed to corner and kill the creatures. Back at their temporary camp, Dras hunkered down to skin and drain the rabbits. The act was raw and primal, a stark deviation from their daily lives back at the Academy. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, a harsh reminder of their struggle for survival in the ruthless desert.

Their night wasn't devoid of danger, however. As they were packing up to resume their journey, a grotesque form emerged from the shadows. A giant desert ant, its exoskeleton glistening under the pallid glow of the moonlight, reared in their path. It was an imposing beast, its lethal pincers snapping menacingly, and its thick exoskeleton gleaming with an uncanny shine.

The squad froze momentarily, but their training quickly kicked in. Joren and Maris engaged the beast first, their weapons clashing against its sturdy exoskeleton. Alia and Toren supported from behind, launching a barrage of arrows and magic towards the creature. Dras joined the fray, his sword swinging in a deadly arc.

The fight was intense. Every strike against the ant was met with a vicious counter-attack, its pincers swiping and its body thrashing. But the squad held firm, their combined strength and resolve overpowering the ant's defenses. With a final combined effort, they managed to slay the beast, its lifeless form collapsing onto the sand.

The encounter with the ant was a wake-up call, a stark reminder of the dangers lurking in the desert. But it also served to strengthen their resolve. They were a team, a unit. And they were determined to face whatever the desert threw their way. Together.

As the squad continued their arduous journey through the desert, a question gnawed at Dras's mind. He turned to Toren, his brows furrowed in thought. "Toren," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "Could we create water using magic?"

Toren looked thoughtful, the silver moonlight highlighting the lines of worry etched on his face. "Theoretically, it's possible," he replied after a moment of silence. "But it requires a large amount of mana. Magic can't create matter out of nothing. We would need to condense water vapour from the air. In this arid desert environment, there's simply not enough moisture to do that."

Dras nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "So, we need to find water, and soon."

Toren nodded, his gaze distant. "Yes, without water, our chances of surviving this desert are slim."