Night had come upon the land and the tortoise continued its journey. It was a new day for the world but not for the tortoise as it had not slept nor will it. The clouds hung low in the distance, blending in with the sky, with only the absence of the stars marking its location.

Without the sun showing the path, the same thing that allowed the tortoise to keep on track became an obstacle. Almost every other step it was stumbling over ditches and trenches. Occasionally, it would slip into a pond and get completely soaked in water. This trek was straining on the tortoise's weak body and the water seeped into its soul. Every time it fell into the water, an iciness invaded its body that numbed everything and brought doubts. Why should it follow this cloud? Was it even worth it?

The numbness was not the best substitute for the pain that wreaked its body. Despite how it sounds, it doesn't completely get rid of the pain; it simply creates a new sensation. The cold pain was far less intrusive yet lingered and wore down the body. It also slowed reaction times and made it easier to injure oneself.

Countless times the tortoise smacked its body against the earth. Its shell weighted it down, anchoring it to its slow and hardy lifestyle. Such a reckless style of moving was being punished. Nothing could change this.

Except, it was not enough. More stars came into view. That shroud was gone with the first light. Dawn had come and the storm had gone. The tortoise had traveled day and night for nothing. Finally, it was free of the spell that had taken over it and it stopped. Just because of a stray fancy it had acted so unreasonably.

Now it was far out into the wastes, a full day from the oasis. A day off from paradise, halfway to nowhere. The only good thing about this situation was that the tortoise had not gotten ill from the events of the previous night. Some of its old injuries had returned with a vengeance though, firmly grounding it on the spot.

Once again, the tortoise was curled up under its shell. All it wanted was for time to pass so it could recover. Everything else felt secondary. It still had food and water from the ponds but they would dry up soon. As for shelter, it couldn't be bothered. Not that it planned to or could stay awhile.

A few hours and it came around, looking for something to eat. That "it" wasn't the tortoise but the fox. The fox had finally caught up to the tortoise. Like the tortoise, it was free from the storm's draw but decided not to head back. Now it was a long way from the oasis filled with locusts it could eat and was famished from walking all night. Seeing the tortoise curled up in its shell, the fox decided to steer clear until it noticed a few things.

A crack in its shell, its head lying on the ground instead of raised and alert, and bruises on its legs. Despite its hard shell, the tortoise gave off an air of easy pickings. The fox walked over and tried prodding the cracked shell with its claw. The tortoise reacted, snapping its mouth shut intimidatingly. It worked for but a moment as the fox flinched before noticing that it hadn't even moved its head. Fatigued, the tortoise hoped that just the sound of its mouth closing would scare it off. No such luck.

However, the fox was still a bit wary of the tortoise's powerful bite. It couldn't take that head on so it didn't, moving to the back of the tortoise. There, tender flesh was out in the open, a tail and two hind legs. A hearty feast for a scavenger.

Before it could take a bite, it heard something and lifted its head up with its ears perked. Something that the tortoise couldn't perceive caught the fox's attention. A few moments later and it became audible, a high whistle that was getting increasingly loud.

Something whizzed by the edge of the tortoise's vision accompanied by a yelp. The fox ran in front of the tortoise, looking around. Blood leaked out of a nasty cut on its flank, turning its brown coat red. Whatever that thing was, it had attacked the fox. The enemy of the enemy is a friend, or so they say.

The thing made another pass with a shrill noise like metal against a chalkboard. This time its target was the tortoise and struck its shell, leaving three long scratches on its surface while the tortoise was otherwise unharmed.

The fox jumped over the tortoise and out of sight, trying to catch whatever that thing was but didn't have the timing down. The tortoise was unable to see the rest of this fight. The thing did not attack the tortoise again, focusing on the fox. Only the resolution was witnessed.

A red fox wandered past the tortoise victorious with something in its mouth. No, not something. It was the vulture. Yet, it was fundamentally different. A larger beak, larger claws, larger everything. Vultures had a dark plume but this one acquired a shiny pitch black one that rejected all sunlight. In its eyes was a red light that was rapidly fading.

That day, the tortoise had its second encounter with a demon.