Searing hot sands and equally blistering sun shine down on the red fur of the doe. Nothingness in every direction expands to the beyonds to a swamp on one side, and a field on the other. Ahead lies the mountains. Where she stands is no-man's-land, a space of nothing owned by no one. It's not even a real place in and of itself; a figment of the hot sun and dry air.
Where does she go? She aims herself to the swamp, intrigued by trees, a bright red and orange flower of the desert. A traveler; free to make her own choices. Something feels wrong about the swamp. Something restricting. But there is also an allure to the beautiful desert flower, and she feels a growing fire in her belly full of curiosity into the trap that is the swamp... Never now will she leave and travel again out side its bounds.