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Foot prints once deep set from the burden of carried weight, were now nothing more than wind swept dimples in the sand. They lead out from the town towards and into the northen desert, their stride sugesting a casual human pace. They made their lazy path deep into the birth place of the moving sands, every now and then a dimple turning into a wind swept scuff. Onward they continued through the few half dead desert trees that had once been the welcomed sigh of many a traveler, a marker of the small oasis now gone.

It was soon after passing that the foot prints stopped. They ended abruptly on the lip of a wide depression in the sand, no more prints were to be seen past or around it. Though within the middle as if drawn in was a flap of blue material, the corner of a cloak maybe. To the left half buried by the grains of never ending sand was a leather bag. It gaped open, it's contents half spilled and snugley held by more of the pale orange grains. The few items to be seen were a collection of arrow heads unshafted and laying loose, a bottle of orange fluid , a carpenters knife and a few coild bow strings. The hot silence was occasionaly broken by a light breeze rustleing the all but dead leaves of the near by trees.