Ssearfenth has always been friends with the stars.
In the Great Desert, change was a constant, but the stars were always there at night. Even during the rare storms, he knew they were there above the clouds. Whenever he was lost he could count on them to lead him back to his small tribe. Even among them he was different, his body more slender, his neck longer, but they appreciated his closeness with the desert environment, his wisdom in guiding the chief.
Even so, he did not tell them of his dreams. When it was cold and he slept, the stars whispered to Ssearfenth, telling him of safe places to seek water or food. The trouble was figuring out when they meant--sometimes it might be days or weeks in the future before he would recognize what he had seen in his dreams, other times it was only hours after wakening.
Which was why, when he began to consistently dream of shadows blotting out the sky and consuming the ground, he was not quite certain what to make of it.
When they became more frequent, more insistent, he grew worried.
When Ssearfenth began to see armies in those shadows, he knew he had to act.
There was power in the Great Desert, but no unity. He considered and quickly dismissed trying to change that. No, he would have to seek help elsewhere. He had heard of kingdoms, far away on another face of the world. Surely they would be concerned about his tidings.
Ssearfenth never found out if they would, for the tidings arrived before he did. After a long and perilous journey from the Desert to the face of the Kingdoms, he was shocked to see a the shadow he had dreamed of begin to cover the skies. He only just barely made it to the walls of Mullern before the hordes of the Dead surrounded them.
Since that time he has done his best to learn the ways of the city, to fight alongside them, but within his heart sickens knowing the devastation that has come upon the world. The bounty of life he had seen upon arriving on this face is now ruined, killed by the hordes, and he can only imagine his desert home has likewise been stripped of its own hardy forms of life. Hope, it seems, is hard to find.
...and yet he knows, no matter how thick the clouds, the stars still shine behind them.
