<div align="center"><em>“Unlike land, the open sky has no roads for you to follow.” </em><br/><br/>(http://i42.tinypic.com/1zfodir.png)</div><br/><em>“How much longer is it? I can’t see a thing out here!” </em>a voice in Amos’s entourage called out. Amos, who was ahead of the pack and guiding the ruffians towards Port Rose with the aid of his map, could not identify the voice. This was due in part to his keen concentration on the map and the fact that he was staring forward, but mostly due to the violent sandstorm.<br/><br/>The eventide sunset cast a cloak of humidity on Filgaia. The land, scorched by the sunlight, created a lengthy shadow protruding from Amos’s boots; his shadow indicated that it was about 6PM. Nightfall would fall upon Amos and the Drifters soon.<br/><br/><em>“Fuck!”</em>The desert wind tossed up a plume of auburn sand and blew it in his eyes. These periodic, but quite forceful desert storms were called Sandhail, probably in reference to the clouds of dust that the shrieking gale projected upwards and towards the Drifter team. Wincing, Amos tried to safeguard his eyes from the sandy onslaught. However, the sandhail was proving to be more of an obstacle than expected.<br/><br/><em>“We’ve been walking for hours!”</em>another voice called out. They<em>had</em>been walking for hours and traversing through the (seemingly) endless sandy expanse. The day was almost up and the Drifters had not made substantial progress. Shortly after entering the Glass Desert, a title presented to the desert by Drifters, a desert storm stirred in the belly of the beast and impeded progress. Every step required tremendous energy and wherewithal – even Amos considered turning around.<br/><br/>The last bit of red was draining from the sky as the stars ignited.<em>“Where is that passage? We’ll have to make camp soon if we don’t find it. This map is utterly useless,”</em>Amos showed no hesitation as he pushed through the clouds of fine dust lingering in the air. The last thing he wanted the Drifters to know is that he was lost. Although rusty at reading schematics, he could always rely on navigation using the stars. The only problem was that the stars were not quite visible yet. Fumbling with the map, Amos attempted to keep the parchment flat as the wind succeeded in folding the paper erratically and making it flap in the wind.<br/><br/>As Amos adjusted the map to better view it, another plume shot up and blinded the Drifters. Small pebbles, sand and bits of plant matter pelted the gang like shrapnel and were directed at their path. The horses, trotting along slowly with their heads bowed, became distressed. Periodically they would neigh loudly and stomp their hooves in irritation.<br/><br/><em>“Ouch!”</em>His eyes, salted with the earth, caused him to be temporarily blinded. As Amos was rubbing the fragments out from underneath his eyelids, the ravenous wind pushed on his chest.<br/><br/><em>“Night will be upon us soon!”</em>Amos yelled over the howl of the wind.<em>“We can’t keep advancin’ much longer. We’re gonna have to set up camp! This sandhail ain’t dyin’ down anytime soon!” </em><br/><br/>As Amos was rubbing the fragments out from underneath his eyelids, the ravenous wind pushed on his chest. The map, flapping wildly in the sandstorm’s wind, was snatched from Amos’s and proceeded to be thrust into the dusty abyss surrounding the Drifters.<br/><br/><em>“I think that’s our signal to set up camp.” </em>