There’s a tale from the Old Wastes about a scout named Kair who didn’t keep his own name. He’d been stranded after a raid and the sun was a knife. The only thing that kept him from burning was a crystal compass he had salvaged from an old bunker. He’d learned from the patrol reports that the wettest spots in the sand were where the stars of the desert—those faint fireflies that only show up after the dunes shift—lined up in a tight V. Kair watched the sky each night. When the V was pointed straight at the horizon, he’d know the dunes beneath were still holding moisture. He’d set up a small pit, let the wind cool it, and slowly the ground drank it up. Every night he’d make a little fire at the base of that V and the wind would blow the heat away, giving the pit a chance to stay wet. The map said nothing about it, but the locals whispered that whoever could read the stars could stay alive for weeks without a single drop of water. That’s one of the few tricks that’s still useful—just keep an eye on the stars and stay one step ahead of the desert.

If the compass goes out, I don't waste time hunting for a replacement. I’d check the dunes for any repeating patterns—an abandoned caravan track, a slight ridge that only a wind could make. Then I'd lock my eyes on the horizon and wait for the stars to form that V again. If they don't, I lay down a small fire and watch where the wind carries the heat. The dunes themselves will give me a direction if I’m patient. No need for fancy gear; just use what the desert already gave you.