As Limon exited the inn, the sky had transformed into a tempestuous tableau. The wind howled with a fierce "Woo" that reverberated through the vast expanse between the heavens and the earth. Yellow sand swirled and danced in the air, blanketing the sky in a dreary gray pallor. Endless grains of sand pelted against his face, carried by the gusts.
The more seasoned adventurers, well-versed in the perils of such conditions, had already donned their gauze scarves as they departed the inn. They wound the fabric around their faces, creating a meager barrier against the biting wind and stinging sand.
Limon, with a silk scarf enfolding his face, was greeted by a faint, yet pleasing fragrance. It brought a modicum of comfort to his senses. He surmised that it must be Teresa's delicate scent... Without lingering on the thought, he hastened to follow the trail of the other adventurers, his gaze fixed on the direction they had taken.