Beacon II

Atticus spotted a blond head in the midst of the whirling sandstorm. He knew it was Jonah because only a fool like him would not use his magic to shield himself from the grains of sand, but instead wrap his face with his stupid cloak that was meant to ward off the chill of the night.

"Jonah! Why aren't you taking shelter?" Atticus demanded as he flew closer. 

Jonah's green eyes were already wet and red, most likely due to irritation from the wind. His mouth moved, but the storm was loud, and Atticus couldn't make out Jonah's words nor read his lips under the cloak. 

"I know you missed my illustrious self, but you really should look after yourself," Atticus scolded. He moved even closer, huddling closer to him so he could wrap Jonah in his own magic. He would survive anything the desert could throw at him, but Jonah was slightly more fragile and a lot more foolhardy.

He wasn't losing his oldest friend to drat sand out of all things.