Oh, how a mere grain of sand can humble. Trudging through it commands ceaseless cognizance as it shifts underfoot. Covetous and cloying dunes— they draw Artemis in, each step an act of severance. Being met with such resistance often impels her to not only counteract but also draw submission; however, nature isn't exactly an opponent to be conquered.

A day of negotiating the desert makes even Artemis abhor the influence of her armor. Burdensome she muses, not deigning to think heavy. The heat is a yoke upon her shoulders, some sickening self-imposed torment as if she's responsible for carting the sun across the sky, inflaming the desert around her. Artemis is almost certain the sand beneath her will metamorphose into glass.

The glimmer of lush, verdant flora upon the horizon is a sight so divine that Artemis nearly shouts her thanks to the gods. An oasis is nestled into her very corner of the universe. Gratitude is a fleeting, and her speed dominates her mind as she makes haste. Artemis collapses at the edge of a quaint pool as her fingers find purchase on her helmet, tossing it into the bushes surrounding her. Primal need consumes her, cupped hands bringing the water to her rapacious lips.

As the water soothes, her warrior's conscience is restored. Artemis had just forgone all caution at watering hole, effectively rendering her prey. The instinct that overrides her relief coincides with the appearance of you.

"Name yourself before this sword persuades you to reveal your true intentions." Artemis is on her feet, broadsword materializing in her hand as it points at you. There's a menacing look upon her face as her chest heaves from the suddenness. Your eyes meet across the line of her blade.

This must all be a trick of the sun playing off the water— a mirage; nevertheless, her hostility persists, sword steadfast. You're ethereal. The world appears to shimmer around you. Artemis cannot distinguish whether translucent, whether you're tangible. Your existence transcends her understanding of reality.