“Come back here!” The voice bellowed from the fringes of the sandpit as Petra slid down the side of the ashen ravine. The sand didn’t bother her as it would bother the interloper hot on her heels, but her heart still pounded in her ears. “Get back here you coward!” “I’m not a coward!” Petra shouted back, and then scrambled off through the sand when her voice alerted her pursuer of her location. It was a Nimare with pink hair, that much she knew, and she’d seen her aro...

The sand didn’t chafe Petra; her skin and scales were weathered from life in the Sandfall, leaving her to enjoy the wind and the rapid descent. She hefted the spear in her hand, the weight of it welcome and familiar. There wasn’t anything to hunt in sight — yet — and she chanced a look to the side. She just wanted to check on the Nimare girl she met recently. They’d been exchanging knowledge, although most of this was about Saurians. Nanshe wanted to know about them and the...

“Listen, I like your home,” Nanshe was saying, but if Petra didn’t understand her, she’d probably thought that she hated all of this. “Well, I don’t.” Okay, well. That made sense. Of course, she didn’t like it. Her face said it all. “Because of the sand?” Petra asked. She thought Nimare were a little strange, now that she’d spent some time with Nanshe. Her skin was rough to the touch, her bones sturdy so she could handle the depths, and yet she struggled ...