The second I stepped off the ramp and onto Dakar, I was blasted by a wall of heat so strong that it caused me to stumble backward for a second. In the air, seeing the three suns hovering over the landscape was something fascinating and beautiful. On the ground, not so much.
Wrukaog held out a hand to steady me, his grip on my elbow the only thing keeping me on my feet. I honestly thought I was good with heat. Country M was known for its warmer temperatures in the summer, and I had still managed just fine, even with a pair of long johns under my dresses.
But this… this was so hot it hurt my lungs with every breath I look and burned my nose if I tried to breath that way. Almost immediately, I was drenched in sweat and I was dying for a cold glass of water.