The next thing she remembered was Agba picking her up off the bed and carrying her outside the ship. And then a few moments later, she was spitting sand out of her mouth as he dumped her on the ground, her waist long dark hair fanning out around her. She leaned up on her elbows and looked back at him as he walked away, but he stopped and turned around and pointed towards the setting sun. "Your Warlord is that way love," he said. Groaning at the term of endearment yet again she stood slowly as he boarded the ship and it left her there alone at the edge of the desert. "Why is it always the god damn desert?", she thought to herself. Dusting the sand off her knees and elbows she looked around her surroundings and wasn't sure of exactly where she was at. What if Marca wasn't even on this planet? Did Agba just dump her here because he was tired of her? No, she thought. After all she had endured from him, dumping her here because he was done with her didn't seem like Agba at all. He had an end game and this had to be part of it. Marca had to be here. She was still very weak and the belly full of food had been fighting her the whole way there. She had forced herself multiple times to not vomit just for the plain reason she needed the calories to survive and had more than once on the trip found herself on her knees, hand clamped over her mouth and eyes watering willing herself to keep her meal in and not out. She sighed looking across the vastness of the sand and decided that the next evening she would try and cross it, once she had slept some more and her body used the food she had given it instead of trying to rid itself of it. She picked a tree, a little ways from the edge of the sand and laid down next to it and fell asleep.