The black sky thrashed in an angry explosion of wind. In the distance, great pyramids loomed with piercing black eyes glaring from their peaks, the swirling irises splattered with flecks of gold. An endless expanse of silver sand spread for miles, glittering off the golden moon like an ocean of fine jewelry. Suna was nowhere in sight; through the eerie blue light that appeared to be without source could one view only the threatening sculptures by the horizon and the endless dunes of sparkling grains.

Gaara stood not in his usual confident stance but defensive and wary, like an antelope hunted by a pack of jaguars. His frame seemed to shrink without its usual gourd, with hunched shoulders and wild, pupil-less eyes. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over a pale, clammy brow, and his chest heaved with adrenaline pumping through every vein.

Something was out there. He knew this because it was always out there, every single time, and every single time he could not escape its clutches. Like the dozens of repeats he'd suffered of this very scene, the presence of this something prickled all around him, despite the lack of any other moving figure, not to mention the scarcity of places to hide.

Without warning: A displacement of air behind him. He jerked back, hands forming together in the beginning of a seal before he took in the sight of what was far from a stranger.