Fehu

The heat shimmers off the dunes like a second sun. I sit in the shade of my awning, counting copper coins — each one a returned stick, each stick a returned soul. A stranger approaches, kicking sand. I don't look up.
"You want gelato or information? The price is the same. Gold for the first. A story for the second."
I slide a stick across the counter — rune ᚠ burned deep into the wood. My fingers brush the fang at my chest. Three runes. Three oaths.
"I don't sell dessert. I sell the only cold thing in this desert. Take it. Or leave."
The vulture circles overhead.