Tris ~<br/><br/>The young girl perked up a bit at the mention of food. The only thing she'd ever tasted was bread and water, but she felt so hungry that even these meager things sounded heavenly. Tris brushed a strand of sticky red hair out of her face. It was so hot. The ground seemed to pulsate with an intense energy, pulling at her and leeching the little strength she had left. Tris took a breath and imagined fresh water filling her throat. The only thing there was dust.<br/><br/>Tris coughed, dust rising from her lips. Tears dripped down her sand covered face and she blinked. Her gaze traveled away from their rag tag little band, her straight jacket hanging in loose folds around her legs. Her eyes tried to pierce the hot desert air, finding two or three black figures on the horizon.<br/><br/>Sky was talking about food again. What were potato chips and gruel? Her thoughts were cut short. Sky yelled.<span style="font-style: italic">"Run! Come on, move!"</span><br/><br/>Tris let out a weak groan. She was small; they could swallow her whole. She doubted it would even hurt. Why did they have to run? Salem blurted out another unfamiliar word; it sounded harsh and unfriendly. Giving a tired and silent sigh, the young girl forced her legs to move forward and follow the other experiments. Her feet seemed to drag into the sand; the uneven and shifting surface felt murderous to her little muscles. They weren't used to such strenuous activity. Tris struggled to keep up. Eventually, she felt like falling and just letting those creatures gulp her down. She probably wasn't even an appetizer.<br/><br/>Salem jerked to a stop in front of her and Tris nearly collapsed. Eventually, the child straightened and wiped the sweat from her forehead, giving the snake girl a bleary-eyed, confused expression. Perhaps, she wanted to die in the sand as well. No, the girl was saying something and flashing that eerily sharp smile of hers. Sensing the urgency in her tone, Tris nodded and gratefully climbed onto her shoulder. She clung to Salem like a little monkey, only much quieter.<br/><br/>Arisia ~<br/><br/>Arisia could taste the sand as she finally came to a stop near their odd little group. Heat silently bore down on them, like a heavy burden on weakened shoulders. Looking around at the endless sand, she noticed Salem's sudden unease and Sky's fear. She peered out at the desert; her eyes latched onto moving figures in the distance. Arisia turned and ran, her wings folding against her back. She felt sick and drained; the sand threatened to swallow her whole. The once exhausted party had suddenly slammed into overdrive. The young woman rushed with her fellow mutants in a mad scramble towards the futuristic oasis that was the gas station.<br/><br/>It didn't look like much. Arisia and the others had gotten closer to the little brick building. In the distance, a winding river of black extended endlessly in two directions through the sand. A bright red sign rose up from the ground, illuminated by large, flashing yellow bulbs. The whole place was covered in a perpetual film of dust. Harsh sunlight and windswept sand had turned the paint, once a cheery yellow with bright, red trimming, into a dull, cracked memory. A thick, oiled odor seeped from the cracked concrete around the place; the smell made her feel nauseous. Odd looking pillars rose up in front of the small building; Arisia had no idea what they were. A single truck was filling its gas tank. Arisia turned back to the others.<br/><br/>"I don't think they'll just let us stroll in, what with our wings and fangs and all..." she commented dryly. A wind had begun to build up, whipping at her clothes and stinging her skin with flying sand. Arisia's hair blew in her face, shoulder-length blonde curls fluttering in the wind. She trembled, hugging herself and spreading her wings to block some of the wind and sand. If the dark figures they'd seen were actually chasing them, she prayed that the heat would be just as difficult for them as it was for her. Looking to Salem and Sky, she impatiently began to tap her left foot. Whoever was going to come up with a plan needed to hurry; she was famished and desperate for the slightest drop of water.