Blasted Land

The land is barren, baked clay dust shifting over mountain rocks. Nothing green can be seen for miles around.

When one sleeps on the blasted plain, one seems to awaken surrounded by lush foliage. Distant animal sounds draw nearer to the sleeper as the dream goes on. Those who have the nerve have said eventually there are footsteps that approach from behind. Turning to behold their source awakens one instantly.

One brave man remained until the footsteps stopped behind him. He said he felt a touch on his shoulder before he, too, awoke.

His companion, braver still, they never found.