Night was falling, signalling me that it was time to test my wrangling skills. After what had occured with the trapped air, I decided on a less volatile mode of propulsion. 

My knotwork was not up to par.  It took several tries, but eventually I was satisfied with my slipknots enough to fashion some lassos out of a few lengths of rope.  Now all I had to do is find some jaqqi.  

I was used to sneaking up on a feasting jaqqi to get them suited up to a wagon.  Despite their size, a pair of them can easily pull a man on a small cart as fast as a pair of horses.  However, the jaqqi near my village were half domesticated, which made them fairly docile when they had food in front of them.  The jaqqi here though, were another story.

They were about twice as big as the ones back home, and much more alert.  Perhaps these are the giant ones that could swallow cities I was told about by my father. I think one should suffice in pulling me where I want to go. The real trick will be getting the jaqqi to go where I want.  Being naturally afraid of humans meant that even a feral one would run from me, if I wasn’t caught in a sand trap, but I had to fashion some sort of harness.  

I looped the lasso ends around an old bone I found half buried in the sand.  No doubt a prize catch for the jaqqi, judging by the size of it.  I made sure the straps were secure, and wrapped it in some preserved meats.  

My neighbor, back in my home village, assured me that they had the best recipe for jaqqi bait.  The mixture they soaked the meats in allowed for a very long shelf life, and a fresh draping estetic that is sure to enthrall a jaqqi’s appetite. The bait was fashioned, and made a pretty convincing half eaten leg. 

 Jaqqi pits were difficult to find, and is one reason why this area is so dangerous.  I stayed on the rocks and made my way towards a familiar sound.  A large sicc had attempted its way across a wider opening in the sands, and fell quickly into the pit.  Siccs could burrow in the sands no problem, like the jaqqi, but when they fell into a pit, they had the tendency to fall face up.  This causes the flaps over their airways not to work, and they end up with a similar fate as they rest that find their way into a pit.  A mature sicc can feed five jaqqi easy, if it is plump with fat, as they normally are.  

I waited until the jaqqi had dug up their dinner.  When the corpse was half picked, I tossed my bait stick into the pile of flesh, and strung my dragon eye pendant around my neck.  Clutching the ropes in each hand, I braced myself. I had my skis ready. As soon as I felt a tug, I leapt up and screeched with all my might.  

My plan worked without a hitch.  My feral beast sprinted from its pack with the bone still locked in its jaws.  By the time I think it noticed, the bone was already lodged in its jaws and I was sailing on the sands.  It required the sharp point at the end of its muzzle to begin burrowing, its front claws being too stubby to reach the ground.  As long as I continue to keep it’s head from dipping, I will be able to keep it from burrowing. 

Tugging on either rope, encouraged it to turn in that direction, and with a little practice I was gliding in the direction my guide showed me.  I settled in for an assumed long ride.  Taking in the scenery around me.  

The sunset on the horizon was breathtaking.  

As night fell, the temperature followed it. A cool crisp air offered relief from the unbearable heat that the sands still held.

Gazing around, I could see the wildlife come alive. A cascade of rodents poured from mounds of rocks, feasting on the scraps, and vegetation.  The cactus offered plump fruits to those daring enough to risk the spines.

I watched one spot in particular.  A flare eared mouse chomped down on a speckled pear.  Its bliss snapped short by a nearby fox, and then that fox’s satisfaction snatched by a speeding yellow dragon.  This one was quite different then the ones I had seen earlier in the morning. 

This dragon was much older, this was apparent by its fully developed jaw, and shoulders.  It carried the fox off with ease, digging into the sands with its claws.  I was honored to be able to see such a specimen.  The dragons here rarely reached adulthood, and without the constant feeding of an owner, they put an unrealistic strain on the rest of the environment.

Because of this, the locals hunt the elder ones, harvesting their bodies for precious materials.  Chances are, this ladger dragon was not long for this world.  The locals have plenty of time to hone their craft. 

My pendant could feel my attention fading away from my goal, and roar furiously to steer me on the right path.  In sync with the roar, a geiser of sand came spewing out of the dunes.  The wind kicked up, and I was quickly blinded by a thick cloud.  I could hear my jaqqi steed whaling in fear, and suddenly it fell silent.  My skis plowed into something sturdy and I toppled head over heels skipping on the sands.

Once the dust settled, the jaqqi laid in front of me out of breath.  I could see the fear in its eyes, desperately trying to escape from me, but its body weak from exhaustion, and hunger.  I tried to cool it's burning thoughts, by placing my hand on its snout. Back home they loved getting their hooked nose scratched, and the feral ones shared this joy.  

However, my mount was now growling like the ones back home.   It was still struggling for breath.   It seemed to have something lodged in its throat. 

I took a deep look into the animal's eyes to establish a calming trust, then I started propping open its jaws.  Working my hand down its leathery throat I landed upon something hard, and rigid.  I twisted the item a little, and it came right out.