It was a blistering day, but luck had been on his side, and a cool breeze was sweeping across the plains. A storm was coming, but it was hours until it would even show. Plenty of time to find shelter or to simply move on, something he had been doing for the past years. When he was younger, the other gods he met had told him how years just flashed by, but Khuluma could not sympathize. The god was growing tired with wandering, and had spent too many days talking to rocks and beetles.
In the shade of a low hanging tree, he rested among the tall grass in the cover of a bush, wings folded and flopped on one side, yawning as he woke up from a long nap and stretched out before debating another nap or to just get moving.
He contemplated moving for a good minute before he yawned again and rolled over to his other side. Yup. Not moving sounded like a nice plan.
