ᗰOᑎᔕTEᖇ [🧡 ᑎᗩᖇᑌᕼIᑎᗩ 💜] [Ɱҽէąʍօɾքհօʂìʂ] Bσσƙ Oɳҽ

Desert Nightmare

And she did understand.

She had expected something of this nature to happen.

Frightening nightmares.

Ino's response and intensity to the terrifying dreams, however, was not.

"Ino-"

"I know what I saw." Ino insisted, "and I'm not crazy."

The disheveled Yamanaka leaned forward in her chair, damp eyes glinting with vehemence and panic.

"She knows me," she whispered across the expanse of the table, "She knows my name. She followed me. And last night..."

Her breath hitched.

"She tried to...take me with her...she...she was wearing his face and..."

Sakura stood as Ino dissolved into tears. Sliding into the chair next to the distraught blonde, she reached for her hand.

"Ino, listen to me, I know you're not crazy but you need a break," Sakura reiterated firmly, giving the chilly hand beneath hers a empathetic squeeze, "You've been pushing yourself too hard. You can't continue on like this."

She dipped her head, determined green eyes seeking distressed blue.

"Look at me, Ino."

She waited as her friend struggled for control, holding her next words until she had the other woman's attention. Several minutes of sniffling and tear wiping passed before she was ready.

"I'm taking off today," Sakura announced, "and so are you. We're going to stay here at my house until you feel better, and when you do, we're going to go talk to Kakashi-sensei. Okay?"

Ino's lips trembled, tears swimming in her eyes.

"Okay?" Sakura repeated.

She nodded her head for emphasis, relief washing over her as her friend copied the gesture.

"Okay." Ino whispered before breaking into another round of sobs.

This time, Sakura wrapped an arm around her trembling form, drawing her into the cradle of her bosom for the comfort they both so desperately needed.

xxxxxx

A harsh gust of wind swept across the desert plane, whipping up blistering swirl of burning sand in its wake.

Shino flicked grit from his sunglasses as the sandy air blew by. Swaddled in a gray coat far thinner than his preference, the insect incubating shinobi peered out into the golden wasteland. There was no sign of the scouting arthropods he'd dispatched an hour ago and the droves of bugs crawling along his skin were growing increasingly agitated.

A silent exhalation of aggravation left his his lips as he mopped sweat from his forehead.

The Desert of No Return was a small slice of hell.

Torrid heat.

Dry stagnant air.

Scorching sand.

And a fervid sun blazing with the intensity of an erupting volcano.

It was an unbearable combination.

An oppressive inferno threatening to torch the flesh from his bones.

A torturous oven that was slowly eroding his notoriously mild disposition. Six hours in and he was more irritated than he could ever recall being on a mission. His patience quickly becoming frayed beneath the blistering rays of the desert sun.