To the southwest, and endless expanse of desert sand rolls on, and on, and on down past the distant line of the horizon. The scrubland is slowly and painstakingly being taken over by small, drifting grains of hot, yellow sand. The cracked landscape is sprinkled with dust and sand, and a series of low rolling dunes mark the boundary into an expanse of shifting sand that is as unforgiving as the surface of the sun. The air wavers in the heat, and any vegetation from the northern lands that manages to root itself quickly shrivels and dies for lack of water.
