The desert and the Zhablikov (the robin). What could we have in common? We’re both hot! Sand because of the burning sun—and me because of a burning butt. Sick of it, you bastards… But nothing. I’ve got subordinates, my dryad’s tits, a whole lake and a sea of enemies. And when I get out of here, I’ll go get myself that iron-eating monster. I’ll have my own tank-monster… But first, the desert.