Day Four
Gubrik awoke when the sun became hot and bright enough to shine through his eyelids. His throat felt like he had swallowed sand - and likely as not he had, and his head was hurting enough to burst. In his right hand he felt the deflated wineskin that had accompanied him through the night. As he tried to swallow he gagged, then coughed up a lump of very sandy mucus, which he spat out sideways, and then opened his eyes.
He lay sprawled on the side of a dune, the sun was already half-way up its ascent and beginning to burn his furry Bugbear hide. There was a lump in the sand a few yards off which was likely his armour, while his Falchion was upright in the dune within arms reach.
Groaning he got to his feet, and immediately grabbed the Falchion for support. He was, however, still a bugbear warrior, strong as an ox and at least as stubborn. It wasn't his first hangover, and it wouldn't be his last - although he hoped to get by without quite as much sand in the future. Grunting he drew the Falchion out of the sand and took a few tentative swings, to see whether his feet would carry him safely. He neither stumbled nor fell - which was good - so he trotted heavily towards the lump and bent over to dig his breastplate out of the sand. This sent a sharp spike of pain through his forehead that startled even him with its intensity.
He straightened out reflexively and his hand shot to his forehead. There it stopped, startled, and withdrew. Very slowly he lowered his fingers back onto his forehead, creeping over his rugged goblinoid features until they found it. In the centre of his forehead. There was a lump, a hard pointy lump. A horn. A single horn growing out of his head.
And it certainly hadn't been there last night.