Swamped

"Sandraptors."

"That's not a beast I've heard of before." Rider sounds more curious than frightened. Then again, he doesn't seem to scare easily.

"That's because they spend most of the year in burrows. Fierce things. Sharp claws, sharp teeth, travel in packs. Pretty smart, too. They catch lizard-worms and keep them in the burrow, then eat the eggs. Every six months, they abandon the burrow and run out to dig a new one on the other side of the desert. And it's about that time of year."

"They run lizard-worm farms?" Rider asks.

"That's what Betty said. She got caught by a pack. We thought she was dead for three months, but no, they treated her more like a pet. She escaped when they went for the other burrow."

"What happened to their lizard-worms?"

"Left behind, she said. Seems they only care for eating the eggs, not the live ones. But that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous."

"Thank you for the warning," Rider says. "I'll keep an eye out. You should get some rest while you can."

"You're one to talk. From what I overheard, you had a busy night."

"The day was no less busy. But I will manage."

"You got shot at, too. Can't you get Corvus or someone driving for a while?"

"I appreciate your concern, but we will arrive faster if I drive. Thank you for your help, Yvonne."

He's a stubborn one. You suppose that's it. You get back in the wagon and settle in for a long night.

---

You're now someone back in the swamp. Who are you, and what are you doing?