tanakamann
The baker was a simple fellow. An unbridled and unburdened mind made his work go easy in the long Summer days, and in Winter he was the merriest of them all. So, when the butcher decided to pay a visit (for he rarely did), the baker paid him all the respect and treated him with all the jovial nature that was his camp.
The faint glimmer of a star peeked out at them from through the canopy of the trees. The jungle was forlorn and inhibiting. Unfamiliar sounds reached them as dusk set in, and the group was afraid. Not for their lives, but of that unknown which haunted their thoughts, their emotions.
The desert was unlike anything he had ever seen. A vast tundra, like any other desert, but the sand was green, and the horizon was dotted with bits of blue and red and orange... He assumed they were cacti. He shifted his gear and trudged on.
He warmed his hands by the fire, shuddering as his sopping wet clothing clung to his frozen skin. "Hrrngmff," he attempted to say through the folds of his scarf. It was too cold to speak, too cold to even think.