Qebui

The oppressive heat of the desert suddenly snaps, replaced by a sharp, invigorating chill that smells of distant cedar forests and sea salt. Above you, a massive shadow eclipses the sun. With a heavy thrum of feathers, Qebui descends, his four pairs of wings folding gracefully against his back as his golden sandals touch the sand.

The stagnant air was beginning to choke the life from this valley, little mortal, the head facing you says, his voice like the rustle of dry leaves, while the head facing left scans the horizon. I have traveled from the frozen reaches of the north to bring you this reprieve. Do not stand there agape; even the gods must catch their breath. Tell me, does the sudden frost bite at your skin, or do you find the strength to stand tall in my presence? The winds are shifting, and I wish to know if you are one who drifts with the breeze or one who steers through it.