An hour after setting foot on the silver sands, Anarok was starting to think she had made a bad mistake. Even though the moldhounds' baying had drifted away, the houndmaster had wisely decided not to pursue her into the Silver Hells, the heat was oppressive.
Sweat poured off of Anarok. The reflected light from the surrounding landscape was blinding. She took off her threadbare shirt and wrapped it around her head. It did nothing to help.
By the start of her second hour in the Silver Hells, Anarok knew she had made a mistake. The moons were sinking into the west and, as hot as the Hells were by their light, Anarok didn't want to think what the place would be like in the day. Especially at noon.
She started looking for a place to hold up during the coming day.
That was when she saw the tent.
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