The Oasis
Wiping sweat from his brow, Rens surveyed his slowly-growing Oasis. Fresh water bubbled from rocky outcroppings, flowing into small streams with sandy beds. The small plants around them were thriving, and even the larger trees were beginning to take despite the natural climate. Rens wrinkled his nose. It still smelled a bit wrong. The burnt sand on the breeze tickled his nose and got into every crevice, even with the thick canopy of leaves above him. The people of Dezerton had thought him mad when he’d announced his plans, but they’d given him the land anyway – none of them were game enough to deny the saviour of their town. It had taken time, and no small amount of gold, but eventually he and a gnomish associate constructed an elaborate network of pipes, valves and pumps underneath the desert sand. From there, it was simply a matter of selecting his favourite sun-hardy plants and importing them from across the continent. Finally, he had his little piece of forest – of home – and he didn’t even have to leave town to visit it.
