A/N

I originally intended for this to be a crossover with Vane, an Indie game in development that's also based on a lone individual in a desert. Still, I realized that what I was writing seemed confined to just Journey (as in, without any distinct elements of Vane), so made it confined to the context of Journey...sort of.

The Shifting Sands

The sun is setting.

I can feel it, the trickles of warmth touching my skin as I can head west. I can see it, my eyes straining in the gloom. I can taste the sand on my tongue, feel it scraping against my skin in the cool desert breeze. And I can hear…nothing. Only the sound of my own footsteps in the sand. Of my breathing. And soon, the crackle of a fire as I sit down beside it.

I'm running out of wood, I note in my mind. Nothing grows in the desert. Water keeps me going during the day, otherwise I'd die of thirst. The wood, and through it, fire, keeps me going during the night. Otherwise I'd freeze. I reflect that neither matter of departure is particularly appealing.

Departure. When did I leave? Where did I depart to? How long will it take me to find my destination? Will I make it? I...get to my feet, taking a burning stick with me. Someone is coming. Through the gloom. From the west. Even without the setting sun, I know the direction of west. It is a cold direction, with little light. And little comfort.

The figure emerges. He...or she, I can't be sure, is clad from head to toe in traveling gear. A brown face with white eyes shines in the gloom. A long red scarf flutters in the night wind. I hold out my torch, words caught on my tongue. Saturated by the sand that has entered my mouth. The figures stops. Stands. And stares.

And I stare back.

We stand there. For how long, I cannot say. It's like I'm in a dream, yet I'm aware of it. This figure, this traveller…likely heading east. As I am heading west. Oh how lucky he must be. To head east. Towards the sun. To bathe in its light and warmth…and heat, but the traveller's attire is well suited for such a journey, I note. Insulatory garb that keeps heat in when needed, and cools the occupant when it isn't. Myself…I shiver. So far from the fire below, I've forgotten how cold the desert air can get.

The figure offers me a second scarf. After a moment's hesitation, I take it. Why? I cannot say. Why do things happen as they do in dreams? Why does the body shiver? Why does one travel alone?

We stand for a long time. The fire before me dies. But fire of another kind touches my back from behind. I can feel it. See the light, see my shadow start to appear. See the traveller before me. See him extend a hand.

Slowly, I extend my own. Slowly, I take it. The traveller nods. He continues his journey. And I begin a new one. Into the light. Towards the sun.

And finally, I'm warm.