Sandstorm

He trudged through the sand, up and over great dunes of the stuff, while the wind blasted him with even more of the fine grains. Visibility was shit, and he walked more by instinct than anything. He'd long ago lost his way. The gale-force storm did nothing to change that.

He was covered head to toe with protective gear, with just enough room to allow for his goggles -- not that it mattered. It was impossible to see; he may as well have been blind for all the good it did.

He walked straight into the wind. The fingers of his hand were curled tightly around the reins of his faithful mount, which was also covered completely. This kind of storm was enough to strip the meat off a creature's bones in short order. The only difference is that his horse actually was blind, at least temporarily, by the rags he'd tied in place to protect the animal's eyes.

Together they walked, man and mount, as the wind blew, cutting a path through the sand, both beneath their feet and in the air. The storm would pass, in time.