Sand-fever. It's a terrible affliction, well-known for affecting those who, as the name suggests, spend too much time hunting in the desert. Althea grew more and more horrified as I listed the symptoms, and I suspect she was trying to work out whether or not she had been affected by the condition.
Those symptoms became more uncomfortable, more outrageous, as I carried on speaking. At long last I mentioned the habit sufferers develop of constantly searching out stray particles of sand lodged in their equipment or stuck to their person. It was while I explained an observer would think the sufferer appeared to be afflicted by lice that I was unable to hold the laughter in any longer, and Althea realised I'd been teasing her all along.

Fall Festival has come around once more, bringing revelry and fun with it. The season has been long-awaited, anticipation rising in recent turns. As ever the banditos run around the lands, appearing everywhere except where I happen to be. And I hear there's an alligator somewhere it really doesn't belong!