RiskyFisk

The train travels along the tracks like a magic carpet made of steel. Click, Click, Clack, Click. The hot and dry air warms the traveler. A desert made of sand and bones, dryness and death, outlaws. A million miles of empty space, with the occasional track of a viper in the sand, a place of no return. A place for an outlaw. On the back of a tanker car sits an outlaw with his belongings. His loot. He had boarded the train not knowing where to go, where the train would go, but he knew it was where he wanted to go. Grains of dust pound the car as steel wheels turn like a saw blade. Every 10 feet traveled is one click on the rails. Then, there was a traveler. A traveler riding through the empty desert on a horse like a bright light in a dark room. The empty space and air was disturbed by a bump in the horizon, a victim. The outlaw jumped off the train and tumbled through the spikes and rocks. He stopped and looked over at the traveler. The outlaw started venturing closer and closer. A tumbleweed blew across the desert right into the travelers path. The horse got spooked and stopped. The outlaw ran, getting closer every second. The traveler did not see him. Then within the time it took for the traveler to turn around, a revolver was pulled from the outlaws belt. Then, it was done. A thousand dollars and a few precious gems was how much this traveler's life was worth. The outlaw took the horse and rode away through the fields of wind and lands of sand.

The outlaw rode through the desert with his prize, but then a burn. There were flames rising from the distance into the sky. Nothing was for hundreds of miles but air and wind. He rode through the desert towards the flames. The sun was starting to set and the air was getting cold. Then, there was no sun, but a flame. A flame that called friendship and warmth. The outlaw got closer and closer, then he looked up. A bird of fire and warmth. A phoenix. A phoenix that would keep him warm overnight. He slept well, then there was thunder. There was lightning. There was no rain. A cloud as black as coal loomed over the desert seemingly millions of miles wide and tall. Then, the clouds rattled and shook. The earth trembled in fear and the sand turned to tornadoes made of tiny stones. A thunderbird. It was a thunderbird. A legend of the wilderness that no one had seen. Fire and thunder collided. There was an explosion. The desert turned to grass as green as a tree. Mountains sprung up like a spring in a gun that had just been shot. But there was a void. An empty space. Emptier than the desert. There was an urge. The outlaw walked closer, but he didn't want to. It was almost as if the space was pulling him in. Then, a woosh. A fly through time. He saw the train and the traveler, the desert and the sand. He finally landed, somewhere in an unknown land. A place that called home and loot. A place that smelled like opportunity and a little more banditing. A place called Rathnir.