The caravan got in, the women in tow, since they hadn't made any attempt to get in front. Which only amounted to like 5 minutes of waiting in the scorching sun, so there wasn't probably any point in it, anyways.<br/><strong>"The desert is nobody's enemy, 'Shley",</strong>a tall caravan guard told the hunter. He was a Shemite, obviously, maybe of mixed parentage - which happened in the Inter-Rivers Land more often than was spoken about - but unlike her, he only carried spears. Three thrown spears, and a spear for close combat.<strong><br/>"If the desert turns on you, you die, so she never has enemies",</strong>he clarified.<strong>"But she might scorn you, to teach you a lesson, without turning on you fully...but this she can do faster than a courtesan who saw you're out of money".</strong><br/>He chuckled again.<br/><strong>"Luckily, we're not in the desert, but the steppe...or I'd have never allowed myself to talk like this where the desert might hear me, vain vengeful trollop that she is",</strong>he added.<br/>And with that piece of advice, he rode further.<br/>The unknown woman chuckled softly, at her usual distance. It was just unknown whether this was a reaction to the conversation, or to the sight of a ram mounting a sheep - a spectacle that was offered inadvertently some score of cubits away, while the shepherds were driving a herd to...somewhere. Probably a shelter to rest for the night.<br/><br/>Once inside, their animals followed the leading camel to the humas' resting place: a caravansaraj.<br/>It wasn't the best place in the city, but the caravan leader's decisions weren't to be contradicted - that much he'd made clear - and the tall Shemite turned towards them again, and winked.<br/>"It's a suitable place. They seldom have fleas, too", he assured them.<strong>"Just...ya might want to cover up some, 'Lian. They usually have some rough clients".</strong><br/>But then he rode towards the mudbricks building without turning again to check whether she'd followed the advice. It wasn't his job to guarantee their security; he'd given them a free advice, and they were free to follow or reject it, now.<br/>Of course, the Eastern chick was fully clothed. This one exposed nothing - usually not even her face, hidden under a shawl to prevent losing water to the drying winds, as was the custom in her homeland as well.