Drow's conversation with his father had gone better than expected, and for that he was grateful. His decision to avoid telling his mother would certainly return to bite him later, but his eagerness to leave Salem overshadowed that fact. Normally he'd never enter the Dunes, but he'd decided to take the long way around Salem's south edge to avoid Rhaenys' wrath should she find out he was leaving before he'd officially departed. She'd find him eventually, of that he was sure, but she was consumed with her two most recently children. He didn't hate his siblings, in fact he was grateful they took some pressure off his shoulders to be perfect when Rhaenys deigned to look at him. He loved his mother, and she loved him in her own twisted way, but it left him feeling cold and alone in a place where the cold was not welcome.

He had taken the sea route to reach the Dunes, rather than cross into the Desert, and he was still damp with water as he began his trek along the southern border. The ground was much softer here, the sand crumbling beneath him with each step. Mother had told him of the Desert and of the Dunes, but it was something different to experience it for the first time.

Drow stopped, his ears twitching, at the sound of vicious wind picking up. Sand began to swirl around him, sticking to his wet coat and clinging to him. It was as if Salem itself refused to released it's grip on the young stallion. He stomped and shook, and kicked his legs out as he tried to rid the sand as it stuck to him like glue. Drow squeezed his eyes shut and took off galloping, hoping to find the sea beneath his feet. Instead he found himself deeper in the Dunes, shaking himself and trying to find whatever shelter he could. If he believed in magic, he'd have sworn Rhaenys herself had called the sands of Salem to her aid.

drow