The wind howled, lashing sand in their faces as they struggled to reach safety. Each of them had known it was foolish to venture out in this weather, yet each of them had a reason for doing so, even if said reasons could not be explained to others. Now it was too late to turn back. There was only one option.
They had to reach the tomb.
A sudden lull in the storm caught them all by surprise, and as one they looked up to see that they had wandered far off course, and were now beside one of the fallen obelisks that marked the edge of... well, the edge of something, though none of them could remember what.
Beneath this particular obelisk was a small hollow, by all appearances man-made. Now certainly too far from the tomb to make it there alive, they decided they had no choice.
"Let's move," someone said. "Help each other out and mind your footing. That wind is going to get worse. We don't want to get caught up in it again!"
As one, they descended into the hollow beneath the obelisk, finding it cold and dark, but mercifully free of wind and sand. It almost seemed as if the obelisk itself had been hollowed out inside, creating a long, narrow haven from the storm. The sort of work that would take a man a lifetime, if he were forced to do it by himself.
And it was then that they realized, as they removed the headscarves and wrappings covering their faces, that the one who had spoken just before could not have been any of them. The voice was that of a man, and they were all of them women. Servants of the Pharoah, destined to die this night so as to clear the way for his ascension into the heavens, as the shiny ones had decreed.
All of them knew this instinctively, though none of them could remember the Pharoah's name. Or their own.