In glowing winds we travel, over sand and dune and the bare bones of the earth, but the warmth of the sun seeps beneath my scales and deep into my wings, and I feel more alive in this empty place than I have anywhere else. The weight of my limbs falls away to leave my steps bouncing, my tail swishing, my wings like fine cotton.
This world is not for everyone, I know that, and as beautiful as the cool forests and high mountains are, this warmth is like nothing I’ve felt before. Certainly I shall be visiting again.
I don’t think I could live here, however. There’s not enough food, and I’m far too green for such a sandy place. Are there any green deserts?