The journey to the Holy Land was long and arduous. The dunes stood tall against the sky’s yellowish backdrop. The sands burned with a thousand degrees of fire. The winds were blinding, yet the air was dry. The only souls foolish enough to traverse these lands were a couple of shmucks in way over their heads.

Donald Duck and company trudge through the burning sands as they make their way to the mystical Holy Land. Left with nothing but a fleeting promise, the family took on incredible odds as an oversized map guided their path. Though it seemed they were the only souls to take on the heat, they had company. Unfortunately, that company was a group of vultures. While the gang trudged across the heated grounds, the airborne circled their prey, waiting patiently for the moment the land dwellers would fall.

“We’re not dying, you buzzards!” Donald exclaimed, “BUZZ OFF!”

What luck to find oneself in the scorching desert. Donald started to question his current life choices. The idea of running in a desert made him laugh, especially when he remembered the passage about Saul and his attempt to take refuge in the desert away from a raging army. Though, considering that another piece of text suggested that Saul hid in the mountains, Donald thinks that either someone wasn’t getting their story straight, or the deeper meaning was being blurred by all of these inaccuracies. Making sense of it all caused Donald’s headache to start again.

Suddenly, Donald’s sight began to waver. His migraine rocked his brain, warping his perspective like never before. Once again, Donald’s tongue fattened. His steps fall out of rhythm, while his eyes bounce between different visions of color. Soon, his breathing became labored, and Donald was ready to collapse once more.

The others tried to get him back in line, but Donald couldn’t do anything but fall over himself. Seeing this, the gypsy pushed on him. She assisted Donald by draping his arm over her shoulder. She pulled him back on his feet and said, “Come, friend. Guide our path.”

Donald complied, letting his weight fall on the gypsy’s side. He stumbled against the gypsy’s forward march. But during his stupor, Donald noticed something about the fortune teller. Either his vision was playing tricks on him, or he could swear the gypsy lacked a shadow. But such a sight could be chalked up to a mere hallucination.

What was real, however, was the wildlife. Much like the vultures above, the wildlife of this land viewed these malnourished strangers with little respect. From cobras to scorpions to Nubian Ibexes, the gang was assaulted left and right. Almost every step was a step in someone else’s territory. One such case involved a Nubian Ibex booting Donald off a rocky hill. The ibex asserted dominance over its domain, possibly to protect its territory or to show its worth to a potential mate. Nevertheless, Donald had quite a fall. Things really came ahead when Donald’s neuralgia led the gang to a beautiful oasis.

The oasis was lush. The streams were flush with pure water. The greenery flourished like a secret forest untouched by man. Clearly, such a beauty could not exist out here. A clearer head would note that such a beauty was nothing more than an illusion. Right...?

“If this is an illusion, then I don’t ever want to wake up!” Huey exclaimed.

He and the boys ran headfirst into the oasis and climbed the nearest tree. They swung from a vine, screaming like Tarzan before diving into the sparkling waters. The boys were in bliss. The adults, however, remained skeptical. Whether it was their prior experience or knowledge of movies, these islands were nothing but sand. But for a certain someone, it didn’t matter if it was real or not.

Donald needed something to drink. The sailor wheezed harshly, then took the first sip. As he drank, a sliver of purity washed the grains of sand from his throat. The taste invigorated Donald. Suddenly, the sailor sprang to his feet and declared, “IT’S REAL! YIPPEE!!” The energized Donald then dove into the river. He splashed, gaily immersing himself in its splendor.

Donald urged Uncle Scrooge to join, but the old miser still had his doubts. That would change when the gypsy persuaded Scrooge with a shekel.

“Hmph… a shekel.” Scrooge grumbled, “Oh, well. If you can’t beat ‘em, pay ‘em.” Convinced, Scrooge cast his doubts aside to bask in the natural beauty with his family.

The oasis kept everyone in bloom for quite some time… all except for Alumak. While the others were relaxing, Alumak stayed behind. He felt a twinge in his head, telling him that something was not right with this oasis. He scratched his beard as he tried to put a finger on things. The Arab stood under a palm tree and observed his surroundings. His reconnaissance then landed on the gypsy.

The gypsy stood at the edge of the oasis for some time. Her gaze fixated deeply on the dune sea. She did not take part in the oasis like the rest of the gang. Seeing this, Alumak called outwardly to the gypsy, urging her to join the others. But when he caught up to her, she remained silent. Her only focus was on the desert, exemplified by her cold, thousand-yard stare.

“Come, gypsy. Enjoy the momentary reprieve,” urged Alumak.

He tugged her clothes lightly, only to accidentally strip them from her body. When he saw what hid behind the cloak, he screamed.

“A FAKE?!” he cried.

Indeed, the cloak was nothing more than a falsehood. Behind the cloak was a spinal cord jutting into the sand. Atop the spinal cord was a hollow skull. When Alumak peered through the hollow skull, he saw the gypsy making distance between herself and the oasis. To make matters worse, the gypsy was in possession of the map and their only means to the Holy Land. Alumak gasped and ran back to the oasis to warn the Duck family.

“Everyone, stand and run!” Alumak cried, “The gypsy is making off with our map!”

“What!?” Scrooge exclaimed.

Suddenly, a cloud of dust pushed through his hat. Whatever spell the gypsy placed on him had broken, making him realize that he was not wading in an enchanted stream. In actuality, he was kicking around in a puddle of mud. Meanwhile, Donald and the boys were found digging holes, all while guzzling down tablespoons of sand.

“Ack! PTOOEY!” Donald spat, “That blasted gypsy! Let’s get her!”

Donald led the charge, only to trip over himself. The others pushed ahead, leaving Donald behind. But to his credit, his clumsiness unearthed a hidden relic. Hidden underneath was a bottle. A quick glance inside revealed a scroll with some faint Hebrew texts. They must have meant something if it was buried out in the desert. Donald was quick to open the bottle and take the scrolls.

“There’s no time to read, Unca’ Donald! The gypsy’s getting away!” Louie cried.

Louie quickly helped Donald back on his feet, and the pair frantically chased after the others. The gypsy was soon out of sight. To make matters worse, the rushing winds brushed away her fading trail. The gang had to hurry lest they lose her to the eternal sands.

“Stop that gypsy!” the chasers cried.

The chase was on. It’s gonna take a lot of luck for Donald and company to catch her before she makes off with their only means to the treasure. If it truly exists…