The scanty dancers seemed unconcerned with the looming clouds. There was music in the desert, and the heat had fled, though they were still sweating. Sweet and tender was evening with its cooling gusts coming off of the strange rocks, the howling pillars as they were called. The wind was pleasant, and the howls, underscored with the lyre, was melodious to those youths. Still, there was heat, at least the memory of that oppressive day, and so they stripped and let their naked, or only nearly naked for most, though there were some who had not even that shame, bodies feel the wind passing over them as they danced.
And I turned and walked away into the night and desert sands until that noise was gone and I had sweated my passions away. Do not ask me what befell my … yes, they were my friends. I could not save them. I barely saved myself. Had you not found me, had you not given me water, I would be dead and buried, my body lost under the shifting dunes.
Tale Told 