They came out of nowhere. Just appeared around a big dunes bend.

  A big, ornery bull drake and a rider far too small for him.

  The great two-legged lizard was snapping at a cloud of stinging flies, as his tiny rider tried to fend them off with gouts of fire. The two were unsteady, the drake blind thanks to the bugs eating his eyes and the rider off the reins in panic.

  Even a fool could see what would soon come.

  The number of otherwise competent people killed because they got careless on a fast ride was high. About to get higher.

  "Get up there," I said to Moxie, gently digging a heel into her flank. I never wore spurs, didn't need them, "them idiots gonna kill themselves."

  My mount grunted and put on a burst of speed. It was some kind of majestic, a razorback thundering over magically compacted sand. The sound reminded me of a coming storm, of an army at march.

  The rider turned in their saddle, robes flapping in the wind. As their head followed, the hood was torn back. Revealing a face... Well not one I would've expected.

  Scales. Ruby red. Wide yellow eyes. Feminine, in a serpentine sort of way.

  And then I noticed the tail as we broke onto a patch of sandstone, a great boulder in the midst of the dune sea.

  Hot damn, they're even worse off than me. That's a whole lotta mutation for any city dwelling gal. Wonder how long it took her to learn to speak with a forked tongue? Wonder how long-

  The drake bucked, then his long-clawed toes caught, his foot punching through what should've been rock.

  Like a robe swaddled chicken, the rider squawked as she was launched into the air. Meanwhile, her drake suffered a far worse fate.

  As the strange little woman flew and arced my way, massive jaws of serrated chitin burst forth. They wrapped around the lizard's throat, and began to pull. That big son-of-a-bitch fought, but this was plainly his end.

  Was that a big ass antlion?

  Well shit.

  Now, I should not have been watching the dying drake. Should have kept my eyes on the four foot missile coming my way.

  But I didn't, so when it hit me I was more than surprised.

  "Ooff-" I gasped as I was knocked back in my saddle and held fast by only a single stirrup. My hands grabbed blindly under their own discretion as I found myself suddenly blind. A screaming, flappin' nuisance digging her blunt claws into my shoulder and face as she struggled to climb up me and onto my hog.

  Moxie didn't like this. Not at all. And as it turns out, when a razorback hog is mad, scared, and probably a little hungry too, their instinct is to run.

  As fast, and as far as they can.

  I lost my tenuous balance in the saddle and felt hot sand meet the nape of my neck as I was dragged at a blistering pace. A clawed foot in my face only served to remind me of my precarious position. The strange girl was still screaming and kicking and climbing into my saddle as I fell out.

  "Stop! Stop!" I screamed at her, but she was too busy saving herself to notice me. She surged for safety, kicking claws into the leather of my saddle-

  And missed.

  Stars. They was burnin' my neck and face with their evil light. Behind them, a black sky on a moonless night. Only silence for a spell, then the susurrations of a thousand serpents hissin' in the sand. Of blood pounding and rushing through me.

  I heard the voice of a man, the voice of a woman, and then a crowd all at once.

  "Get the medics!"

  "He's a dead man!"

  "Half his face, just gone. Gods..."

  "I'm sorry! I'm so-"

  "Squeee!" Uh oh. Someone done pissed off my pig-

  I opened my eyes to blindin’ light and terrified face just in time to see a rage filled Moxie charging toward the gaggle of strangers around me.

  They dove and ran as two tons of angry razorback came at them full tilt. Just before she stomped me flat Moxie hardened the sand beneath her trotters, breaking into a slide that left her standing over me like a mama bear would a cub.

  A full throated screech, straight out the mouth of a barb-tusked demon deafened my ears, "Sqreeee!"

  Thick, frothy spit dripped from Moxie's mouth as she snapped at any fool who tried to close in.

  I tried to pick out faces or dress, to get some sense of the particular source of the shit I was in, but it was all blurry. And everything burned.

  "You get back you sons-a-" I spat blood, "go on!" The last word was a wet choke.

  My hog was going to kill everyone here if I didn't calm her down soon, and the only way I'd do that was if they were all far away.

  "Slow it Moxie!" I shouted, "It's okay, just-"

  My jaw clicked.

  Dislocated.

  "Ow," I groaned and reached for it with shaking fingers.

  Pop. Back in place. Ice cold relief as my body began to slowly heal.

  Moxie spent another minute or two playing guard hog while Ice-Cold Blood brought me from the brink of, well, not death, but certainly a permanent change in the shape of my face.

  A lot of sand had been packed into the wound and I began to gingerly spit and wipe at it as my vision cleared. After another few minutes I could finally make out where we were.

  White canvas tents were gathered around a massive face carved in rock. It had the features of the Outcast women, but the great menacing frill of a pissed off desert snake. Some of the details had been worn by heat and sand, but it was obvious we'd gotten to the site.

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  The folk that stood, twenty feet or more way, wore the standard attire of dipshits looking to play explorer in the wilderness. Big, broad hats that somehow only covered their necks. Canvas and silk trousers and shirts, dyed bright red, makin' them real easy to spot.

  Some of them had rifles, but none were pointed at me, thankfully. Actually, it seemed like most of them didn't know either end from the other. One man was even holding it the wrong way around.

  Okay, not really, but felt that way. Damn rich folk.

  Big on ideas, but short on experience. Smart men, with dearth of wisdom.

  Academics for sure.

  I finally picked myself up and the crowd stirred. Now a few manage to point the right end of rifles at me and the pig, but most were content to stare in shock.

  Oh man, my face must be bad. That or they was just foreign to a little blood.

  "Ith okay," I slurred, "I'm okay now. I'm fffom tha Guild."

  No one moved.

  I looked at them, then back to the pig.

  "Fhat did you do?"

  An indignant snort.

  Just kept your ass eaten, she seemed to say.

  I gripped my jaw and worked it until the words came easier.

  "Now, I'm going to go over and talk to them, you just sit and be a good pig. Hear?"

  A grunt and she plopped down to sit.

  Good girl.

  "Sorry folks!" I shouted, hands raised, "seems there's been a misunderstandin' here."

  "Oh gods, is he a revenant Clarke?" asked a mousy woman stood next to a tall, white whiskered man.

  "No, Clarice. He's just a tough son of a bitch..." said the old man, his eyes wide.

  Some of them were staring at my face, others, at my feet.

  I looked down.

  Well. I had lost my boots. And my trousers. And most of my cotton long johns.

  Great. I was half naked and covered in sand and blood. Looked like-

  No not looked like.

  Had. I had been dragged a few miles through the sand.

  Yeah, that would explain why they all looked scared. I'd be a bit concerned, too. Seeing some half dead outlaw come ridin' on in, a frothing mad razorback defendin' him.

  "Oh shit," said a short, red scaled woman as she stepped from the back of the group and into view, "sorry?"

  "You!" I barked, instinct gettin' the better of my good sense, "you little-"

  I got a little lost, got a little too hot under the collar. I started walkin’, might’ve even drawn my pistol, were it still in the holster. Instead I was takin’ off my belt like my daddy had done after I got caught stealin’ a bottle of stolen whiskey worth more than our whole farm.

  I still had welts from that.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" she said, backing away.

  "Mean to kill me you little-" I snarled, words lost, stomping across the sand. I was… mixin’ feelings, about what had happened, and about what I did. Think I wanted to punish somethin’ and she’d given me an excuse.

  "I'll tan your little hide!" I roared as I drew the belt up, the small woman smaller still, clawed hands ready to fend off the comin’ strike.

  Click.

  "Sir," said White Whiskers, a gold-inlaid six-shooter in his gnarled hand, "now, I don't think that's entirely fair. My student's actions were accidental. Assuming she didn't lie about what occurred on the sands."

  I had my hands up and spit a wad of snot, grit and blood.

  "If by 'what happened' you mean her gettin' bucked off then pushing me to get dragged by my own hog, then yeah, it's true. But that doesn't I ain't owed a pound of scaly red flesh, old man."

  He nodded, and I could see him consider. Then, he looked at the little red-scaled lady.

  "Go fetch the elixir you were allocated for this expedition as well as your six months pay."

  The girl went white, somehow.

  "But-but Professor!"

  "Did I seem to ask for a debate?" He said, voice gone a touch cold, "you did nearly kill this man. Furthermore, he is a member of the Guild, and as such, is a professional. If I do not correct the mistake you have made we will never get another guard again. It’s this or he whips you like a child. You’re certainly acting like one."

  Well shit. I thought I liked him. Now I realized he just reminded me of my daddy. Fair but, boy could he be harsh.

  And now I guessed I could too. Could I afford that? Being the man I was?

  What if hadn’t been satisfied with a whippin’? What then?

  My anger started to cool real fast at that. Guilt started to grow where rage had died and rot.

  "Is that sufficient, Mister..."

  "Roche," I said, and took the chance to lower my hands, "and yeah, that'll square us. Assuming none of my gear was lost thanks to miss student's carelessness." I took a deep breath and picked at the sand stills stuck in my fuckin’ face.

  "It wasn't," she said with a sniff, "I just took your gun in case you-"

  "Go Xoxoctic. Now." The old man snapped and the student skulked away.

  "Apologies sir. Your arrival at our camp is unfortunate in a great many ways. You are very much in advance of expectation. You'll also have to excuse our guarded demeanor, and my request for identification on your part," asked the man, his pistol never dropping from my chest.

  I shook my head and dug through the sand in a pocket on my ruined coat. A small brass badge. I tossed it to the ground between us.

  He bent and picked it up. After a moment, he nodded.

  "Hmm, step zero? Really? Wouldn't expect a fledgling to be so... Robust."

  "Step one. I killed some slavers on the way here," I hissed as I searched my person for a cigarette.

  "I see. Regardless," he turned his back to me and address the nervous crowd, "this is Mr. Roche, our combat expert and expedition guard form the guild. Relax. He's not another Sand Revenant nor a Raider from the jungles."

  The crowd collectively sighed and more than a few seemed to relax. Too much if you ask me. Most of them just fucked off and got back to work, only a few spared me a second glance.

  Notably a young woman, Outcast by the ears and skin. She locked hard, pink eyes on mine and then turned to go inside a large tent. She had a rifle, one of those new lever action carbines, slung over her shoulder. I suspected she might know how to use it too.

  I'd watch her.

  "Anyway Mister Roche," said the tall white whiskered man as he closed the gap between us offerin' a hand, "I am Doctor Clarke. Professor at the University of Augustus' Hope. Formerly of the Imperial College of Exploration and Magical Sciences."

  "Roche," I shook his hand and found the man had some grip, "you got a smoke on you by chance."

  The man gave an amused huff. Long finger reached into a white jacket to pluck a slim silver case.

  He snapped it open. Six slim cigars, good ghostleaf, rested therein.

  I took my pick and savored it with a sniff. Then put it to my lips as Professor Clarke snapped, sparking a flame between finger and thumb. With a flourish he ignited the cigar and I took a long, slow drag.

  When I lit my own, a little more of the world, of me, seemed to settle. What wonder a good smoke and decent company can do.

  "Thank you sir," I said, and I meant it. That was a fine smoke, "if you'll give me a minute I'll gather my things and join you in the camp. Sorry for the ruckus and my demeanor. Nothing ruins my mood quite grievous bodily harm."

  "Yes. You are in quite a state. Do you have some kind of healing for vitality talent? None is listen on your Guild identification."

  I nodded, "Just got it last night sir. My Patron like my work killing them slavers. Ya'll don't have no slaves do you?" I asked, suddenly tense.

  "No.” Snapped the older man, then he softened, eyes going to the sky, “None. As I mentioned, the girl, Xoxoctic, is my student. She and Yollotli are both from local Outcast tribes, but they are employees and fellow scholars. I will not suffer compelled service in my camp. That's partly why we are so short on fighting men. It cost a pittance to buy a dozen battle slaves, but you my friend, will have to do for this evening. We are expecting another caravan soon, so don’t fret being the sole security here for long."

  He clapped a hand to my shoulder, and the cigar smoke wafted between us.

  Yep. I did like him. Hoped we’d all be around just long enough to figure out the why.

  Clarke a moment after and frowned.

  “Did you want pants, by the way? I don’t judge mind it’s just-” That caterpillar on his face curled up, and a little part of me died as that moment of quiet respect was curdled by a cold and, very breezy reality.

  “Yes sir, I might.”