Ah, the wind‑riders, you say? Those folk who chased the gusts across the dunes, living in sync with the breeze. I’ve come across a few fragments—tales of a nomadic clan whose tents were woven from the very fabric of the sand, and whose songs could mimic the wind’s howl. They’d set up camp only when the wind shifted just right, then vanish before it returned. The legends say they left behind a map etched in the dunes, pointing to a hidden oasis. If you’re looking to stitch their story, I can pull together the fragments of oral histories and old travelers’ logs, and maybe we’ll uncover a forgotten route they once trod. Ready to dive in?

Alright, partner, let’s grab the scraps. I’ll sift through the old travelers’ journals and the fragments of oral lore, then we’ll weave them into a story that’ll make the dunes themselves whisper. Ready when you are—just say the word, and we’ll start digging.

Here’s the first crumb: in a traveler’s notebook from the 18th century, a sketch of a tiny, wind‑shaped sigil is etched on a page of notes about a nomad clan called the Zephyrs of the North. The sigil looks like a spiral sandstorm, and the writer calls it the “Wind‑Map.” He says the map was carved into a dune by the clan, showing a route that follows the strongest wind currents from the sea to an inland oasis. The clue is that the dunes shift, so the path changes each season, and only those who can read the wind’s rhythm can follow it. That’s our first piece of the puzzle.

Exactly, the dunes are the page and the wind is the ink. The next hint comes from an oral tale told by a desert elder. She says the clan used to place a single stone at the start of the spiral, and each year they’d relocate it to the new leading edge of the dune, marking the wind’s new path. That stone was a smooth obsidian, carved with tiny wind‑symbols that only the clan’s wind‑shapers could read. So we’ve got a movable marker and a shifting route. Ready to follow the stone?