The mule suddenly let out a piercing scream and bolted off. Amon swiftly grabbed the reins and held the animal steady.
The wind suddenly picked up, engulfing them in a sandstorm. Alexandra turned her head toward the gusts of air and yelled,
"Samum! Sandstorm!"
A solid wall of sand and dust was approaching from the north. The evening sun disappeared behind the ominous mass, casting a crimson hue where the wall met the clouds.
"We need shelter!" The mercenary scanned the horizon desperately. But there was nowhere to hide. No matter where she looked, the desert stretched endlessly with low dunes.
"No panic," Amon's hand rested on her shoulder. "How do the locals deal with this?"
"They dig a hole and make a shelter almost level with the ground," Alexandra said, overcoming her emotions. "Or they hide behind a dune, covering themselves with hides. But all we have are sleeping bags, and we'll be buried in them!"
"Then I'll be the hide," Amon replied coldly. The wind whipped his face with sharp sand, but the warrior remained calm. He pulled the reluctant mule toward a dune that stood in the path of the storm. He lay down on the ground, raising himself on his hands as though in a push-up position.
"Get in!"
"You'll suffocate!" Alexandra said, stunned. "We need to think of something else!"
"Don't waste time," the warrior replied. "Hurry!"
"Crazy, you're out of your mind!" the mercenary exclaimed, but still crawled between Amon and the ground, turning her face down. The warrior lightly leaned on her from above, shielding her from the wind.
In a second, the world disappeared into a gray haze. Alexandra felt herself suffocating. She struggled to breathe in the heavy air filled with countless grains of sand. The sand was everywhere. It seeped into her clothes, nose, and ears. It scraped against her teeth, trickled from the warrior onto the ground, and was swept away by the hurricane-force wind.
The mercenary squinted. Muttering under her breath, she let herself drift with the flow. Now, nothing depended on her. All she could do was wait for the end of the fierce storm and hope that her unusual companion didn't lose consciousness from a lack of oxygen. After half an hour, worrying for both herself and the warrior, she opened one eye and glanced quickly at Amon.
Her concerns were unnecessary. Amon remained in the same position, like an indestructible cliff, for whom the storm was just one of many in the endless flow of time.
Alexandra noted with surprise that Amon hadn't moved a muscle, keeping his arms exactly as they had been half an hour ago. The warrior's tense muscles, visible through his clothes, didn't shake or show any signs of the prolonged strain.
Alexandra closed her eyes and lowered her head. The howling wind faded into the background, and the sand no longer caused her significant discomfort.
'A person gets used to everything,' the mercenary thought. 'It will be fine…'
Indeed, it seemed as though the storm had always been roaring. There had always been sand, and nothing but wind and dust.
She sighed, giving in to a strange sense of peace. Amon's presence radiated warmth and safety. Under his protection, the girl relaxed and drifted into a light doze.
***
The storm subsided by dawn. A whole heap of sand fell on Alexandra, jolting her out of her stupor.
"Ugh, cough, ugh!"
For several seconds, she didn't understand where she was. The sandstorm had completely changed the surroundings overnight. The bright sun hit her eyes, and she covered them with her palm.
"It's time to go," Amon's voice came from above. "It's morning."
Alexandra got to her feet and saw Amon's back as he removed his clothes. The warrior had a perfect body, with powerful, defined muscles rolling beneath his skin.
'A real fighter,' the girl thought with unexpected fondness. 'Calm and confident. Yes…'
The mercenary shook her head a few times and put her gear on. Nearby, the mule sat, half-buried in sand. Its black eyes expressed two simple thoughts—what was that?! Is it over?!
Amon walked over to the animal and brushed the sand off it.
"How are you?" the mercenary asked with concern. The warrior didn't look tired or affected by the storm, but she wanted to make sure.
"I'm fine," Amon was unbothered as he removed his pants, showing no shame in the presence of the girl. "And you?"
Alexandra turned away, more out of respect than modesty.
"Seemingly fine. Whew, that was close. How did you manage it? Not suffocate and cover me all night?"
"I'm very strong," Amon explained with a smirk. He cleaned his pants from the inside and started fastening his belt.
"I've never seen anything like it! Not even incubi can do that, unless they're local. Locals adapt well to their wives' environment."
"Well, I don't have a wife," the warrior shrugged. "Let's go already. You'll have breakfast on the way and tell me about these incubi."
"Ugh, let me get myself together, I'm not made of iron," Alexandra grabbed some provisions. "And anyway, I can only do two things at once. Walk and eat, eat and talk, or talk and walk."
"Then eat and talk," Amon decided, sitting next to her.
The mercenary rinsed her mouth, getting rid of the sand, and started munching on the dry bread.
"Incubi are what the husbands of mamono are called. When a man makes love to a monster, some energy is released. It's called demonic. It changes the man to be more compatible with the wife, so they can live more comfortably together."
"How does it change?" Amon asked, intrigued. "Physically?"
"Physically too. And in character. Basically, it changes like mamono want, understand?"
"Not really."
"Well, look," Alexandra reached for another piece of bread. "Mamono don't care about looks, but everything that prevents proper intercourse in a man disappears. If he was one-eyed—he gains sight, if he was weak—he becomes strong. Limbs can even grow back, I've seen it!"
"And the tongue?"
"What tongue?"
"Suppose a man has an unusual tongue," Amon said. "Can it change?"
"Of course," the girl replied with her mouth full. "A tongue is for kissing."
The warrior thoughtfully rubbed his nose.
"Now I understand," Amon muttered, then said aloud,
"You were talking about character, psychology."
"What? I don't know that word. But character—I know. It's a bit more complicated. You see, the man adjusts to his wife's views, just as she does to his.
Not completely, of course, but a lot. How were we taught? For example, if a guy got caught by a succubus, he won't think of anything except lust.
If it's Arachne, he'll eventually love submission, if he's the husband of a sorceress—knowledge, and all that. If a man marries willingly, there were probably signs of it. Overall, it's not so bad. Many, on the contrary, become better, stronger, smarter. But if it's forced, especially with a succubus—ugh...
Not a man, just a walking member. At least, that's what we were taught about succubi, I've never actually interacted with them. I've just 'rrraz,'" the girl waved her hand sharply, "and it's done. That's the story about character."
Amon grimaced.
"How do they fight it?"
"Don't," the mercenary replied, sucking from her waterskin. "It depends on the willpower. A person with strong willpower doesn't change right away. Or doesn't change at all if there's little demonic energy."
Amon thought deeply.
"Why the long face?" the mercenary finished her meal and cheerfully patted his knee. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone hurt you!"
"Let's go already," the warrior simply said.