Ash I: Duneroot

Azluun chewed thoughtfully on the bitter root. It was the only thing that managed to grow in this godforsaken ashland. Like her, it was a survivor. It was clever, it had to be. Duneroot, as it was aptly named, protected itself from the harsh rays of the errant sun by growing downwind of ash dunes. This way, when the wind blowed, the ash would cover the duneroot— keeping it cool, safe, and protected.
Azluun, having learned this from the roots, only rested in the shadows of the dunes and let the wind cover her in ash as she slept. It would make cleaning up afterwards a nightmare, she was sure she'd have ash in her boots for months. But that wasn't important right now. No one had crossed the ashlands alive— there was little reason to, after all, what was there worth finding in a wasteland? If one needed to travel to the other side of the continent, they would simply go around it, be it by rail or by boat. Both were faster than crossing something so dangerous.
She took another bite of the root, and swore under her breath as one of its dry outer fibers got stuck uncomfortably between her teeth. She kept chewing, however— she would need the energy for what she was about to do. The hardest part of her journey was just up ahead. Soon, she would have to cross right beneath the errant sun. She had to be fast, but careful.
The firey orb hovered a mere mile above the scorched wasteland beneath it, baking anything that remained in its sight for too long. The dunes themselves fanned outwards, forming concentric rings around it. This, at least, made navigation easy for Azluun— all she had to do was follow the dunes. She finished eating, and stood up. As she took her first step forward, towards the center— she could hear the crunch of another duneroot beneath her feet.