Arc searched a few more minutes, then decided to turn back as the storm picked up some strength. The winds swept him hard, suddenly, forcing him against a rock. Suddenly leaving the safety of his niche sounded like the worst possible idea, and Arc suddenly found himself starting to panic. He could not see, nor could he hear over the wind rushing over his helmet. The only sense he had left was touch, but even that was thwarted by the many layers of clothing and the sting of particles of rock streaming back and forth, caught in the currents of gale-force winds. He struggled on, fighting just to stay on his feet, until a gust pushed him forward. Arc stumbled for a moment, but could not regain his footing.<br/><br/>He slipped and tumbled down a drop-off hidden by the clouds of dust that choked the life out of everything it touched. He landed hard on his side, forcing the dagger out of his hand, tumbling toward the mouth of a nearby cave, right to the feet of another person weathering out the storm in a temporary shelter. He could not see or hear her; he could barely see the entrance much less what wait inside. All he knew was that staying outside would likely lead to his death. His leg hurt badly when he tried to stand, so instead he crawled forward, grunting loudly with each movement until finally he breached the entrance. Arc breathed heavily as he fought to bring the rest of his body inside, unaware of what awaited him.