Another day had passed since the encounter. The fox didn't show its face again and wandered off back towards the oasis with the demonised vulture in tow. The tortoise stayed to let its wounds recover a bit. Now, it was afternoon and felt its strength recover enough to move. It moved over to a nearby pond and got a drink then ate some weeds. The pond was more mud than water at this point but the tortoise lacked the leisure to be picky. The weeds were dry and crispy as the water started to run out and the sun gazed upon them.

Now, the tortoise had a choice. To the left was the way back to the oasis. It was dried up but left a distinctive yet rough path to follow. It would take multiple days and there was only the guarantee of water at the end. To the right was the storm. The past few days proved that it would be impossible to catch up. A race against time, eating the bare minimal amount of weeds and drinking mud to survive while rushing off to an unknown location. Even if it caught up somewhat, it would be possessed by that feeling again. Those were the only choices with nothing behind and even more nothing ahead.

A true wasteland this was, with nothing but dirt and clear skies as far as the eye could see. Not even plants could be seen in this area other than the occasional weed around the rapidly drying ponds. The heat intensified and distorted the air, twisting and writhing. It formed images just out of sight. The brain forcefully interpreted these as images, shapes, and colors as it didn't understand them. An even more desperate mind filled with hope would change these images to something its host wants. Desert mirages leading the inexperienced to death.

What did the tortoise see in this mirage? An oasis of course. Before the storm when it was vibrant and filled with plant life. A lost paradise that represented most of the tortoise's life so far. Home. Feelings of nostalgia overwhelmed the tortoise despite it being only twenty-one days old. It started walking forward, towards an endless expanse of nothing. Nothing here and nothing there.

The rough and torn soil was replaced with smooth and fine sand. If it weren't for the fact it was blazing hot or that it got stuck everywhere, it would be extremely comfortable. With every walking step, it grated against the body, rubbing it raw. One hardship of many to come. The worst thing was that the sun was reaching places it normally wouldn't. Its shell protected tender skin that had avoided exposure to the elements and was softer. The chips and scratches on the tortoise's shell built up and revealed some of this skin or at least the layer of shell right above it. There was a distinctive feeling on its back, hot and itchy, a sensation alike the time the ants swarmed it. Now there was no water to hide in.

It headed towards the mirage that never came closer nor did it get farther away. It maintained a constant distance like a lure slowly being reeled in. The wasteland was baiting the tortoise, drawing it further in. The tortoise became more and more lost, with only the mirage keeping it going. At night, the mirage would fade away and the tortoise would be stuck, forcing it to go to bed even if it wanted to travel during the night. When morning came again, the mirage would reform a bit and would solidify throughout the day, creating the illusion that the tortoise was getting closer.

The sun and moon danced across the sky, rising and falling multiple times. There were no sources of water or food. The tortoise was running on fumes. The mirage kept the tortoise going, granting it hope. A false hope that would never come because it wasn't real. Alas, some hope was better than none for no hope was the same as death.

In the blink of an eye, four days had passed to no avail. Its pace slowed from a crawl to something even less than a crawl. Its mouth had become completely dry while its stomach constantly ached and growled for food. There wasn't anything the tortoise could do about this as it couldn't find anything to satisfy either need. However, it'd be able to drink as much water and eat as much food as it wanted as soon as it reached the oasis just ahead. Just a few more meters. Just a few more kilometers. Just a few more days.

At one point, the tortoise realized something was off. It had realized well before but chose to ignore it. For hours or even days, it had known that the mirage was fake. Did it make much of a difference? If it tried to backtrack, it would still die. Backwards was sure death. Ahead was unknown but most likely death. A likely death is preferable over a definite death. Left, right, back, forward. All lead to death. It was all a matter of choosing the path that brought death the slowest. As was life. This was an indisputable fact that all living things abided by. Or at least, one that most abided by. There were a select few that were smart enough to take other paths and then there were the ones who rejected all paths.

Unfortunately, not all creatures are able to choose their own path. From birth to death they generally follow the same path, their destiny. Occasionally, a creature will be influenced to change their path and their destiny. Whether by choice or force, their entire life changes but they become confined to this new destiny.

Dark times were ahead for the tortoise. Literally, as something passed overhead and cast a shadow that seemed to swallow everything and dispersed the mirage. Looking up, the tortoise saw a storm cloud drifting about. There wasn't rain or lightning coming from it. It was strangely calm. An invisible pressure similar to when it was very muggy bore down on the tortoise and it felt like there was something behind it. The tortoise could not see it from this angle but it felt like it was extending a hand. Not to help, but to guide it to a way to help itself.

Normally, it would reject this instinctively, but it was too weak to resist. It gave into this new path which was its destiny from the very beginning. During the tortoise's third encounter with a demon, the encounter never ended.