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5th of Blühenzeit, 962 A.S.
We are in the deep desert now. The nights are freezing, the days
are baking hot. This damned sand gets everywhere, even into my
books. Gunther has turned as red as a beetroot, but soldiers gallantly on.
A growing flock of vultures have been circling us as we progress. Tiring of
their attention, one of Gilles' men managed to bring one down with his
bow. Thinking it might make a decent supper, when he went to retrieve it
he found its flesh was putrid and decayed, as if it had been dead for many
months. It seems that in the kingdom of the dead, even birds and beasts
can find no rest in death.
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