The crew was certainly not behind. Connely sat in the comforts of his carriage, while the others stood under the sweltering sun. Chaenath and Dalyor didn't care for the heat: they were elves and, Thraos was a lizard man: he was made for the heat. It was only Nibur that suffered. Sweat dripped down his thick brown beard and gathered over the rings. "Still care for that meal?" Dalyor grinned when Nibur swiped off the sweat from his head.
"Shut up," his throat was dry. "Since this guy made me wait this long, I am going to see if that meal is worth it."
Only when the sun kissed the horizon and painted the sky red, only when the sand started to cool and, only when the last birds perched their nests; they came. At first, one cart was there, then it turned to two and three and four and finally, carts covered the landscape. "Are you... Important?" Nibur gasped.
"Let's just say... my crew has a certain panache to it," Connely said.
