It is indeed a desert, although not the kind of desert that stretches infinitely in all directions. For a desert it actually has a lot of decorations, like cliffs and ruins.

Lots of cliffs and ruins, the closest ones a ballpark of a day or two by horse away.

...great.

She tries to brush sand off herself, which mostly doesn't work, and then she looks around for the nearest of those odd-looking trees. A boulder would do but a tree is much easier.

There are enough of those she can find one within a couple of minutes' walk in pretty much any direction.

She takes a deep breath and wraps her hands around a sturdy branch and braces herself and pulls, and after a few seconds of straining it snaps off at the base. Then she sits down in the sand and holds it in her lap and runs her hands over it. The wood gets smoother and straighter with every pass, little by little, until she's holding a bark-textured quarterstaff. She gets up, twirls it a couple of times, nods in satisfaction, then looks around again for a direction that seems like it might contain water.

There may be such directions that might contain water but in the realm of uncertainty there is one direction right there that definitely contains a hissing scorpion the size of an English Mastiff.

"...Wow, fuck this!"

She backs away on instinct, but if it comes after her she is prepared to hit it with her stick.

How did she guess? It does! It totally does come after her! It also seems smart enough to not be immediately threatened by the stick. Or maybe dumb enough, one of those.

Turns out she and her stick hit pretty hard, much harder than would be suggested by her short chubby physique. It should maybe have been more threatened.

Maybe it should! And maybe the cracks of its exoskeleton should suggest that its best strategy would be running away. But maybe it got some brain damage from the stick to the head or something because it keeps going after her even as it is pummeled to a pulp.

Whack whack whack ugh.

She is now the proud owner of the carapace of a giant scorpion!

That's nice.

...no, beggars can't be choosers. She sits down again and gets to work.

It takes her almost an hour, twice as long as the quarterstaff, but eventually she has somehow molded the remains of the scorpion into a kind of armor-plated swimsuit, which takes some work to put on but successfully covers all her softest bits once she's got it. Also, she's no longer bleeding from the couple of places where the scorpion got her before she put it down.

That does make it easier to survive under the scorching heat of the desert sun!

She can see what is probably a cluster of plants around an oasis over yonder, maybe about twenty minutes away.

She hikes in that direction with a steady stride, muttering complaints under her breath the whole way.

As she approaches the probably-an-oasis location it resolves into actually-an-oasis! It has some rhinos around it, grazing peacefully on the grass or lazing around under the shade of some trees.

She stops well short of this gathering, puts a hand on her hip (the other hand being occupied with her staff), and glares at the tantalizing glimpse of water.

"This is bullshit," she informs it.

Ugh. Maybe, if she's lucky, she won't have to fight six rhinos for a drink.

...she's going to have to fight six rhinos for a drink, isn't she.

She holds her staff at the ready and continues toward the oasis, trying to circle around to get at its least populated side.

The rhinos are herbivores and, as such, do not have predator-style bilateral vision. Which means they can see more, if less well. Which means it is pretty difficult to escape their notice. But not altogether impossible, and there is a less populated side that is not being thoroughly watched by any rhinos.

Then maybe, if she's lucky, she can get a drink and also wash off some of this fucking sand. And not have to fight any rhinos about it.

She will successfully get to the water without any rhinos taking offense at this!

She will not, however, successfully stay as long as she probably wanted to stay there, as a roar can be heard from approximately behind her and to the right. When she looks, the actual biggest and meanest rhino she has ever seen is charging at her.

"Fuck!"

Fight it or run, fight it or run—the important thing is to pick one—she hesitates for a brief moment and then grabs her staff and bolts.

The rhino will not chase her for long; once she is far enough from the water it will give up and return to its oasis.

Great, okay.

She heads out, walking slightly faster now, in search of less well-defended water.

Nowhere immediately visible, although there are the occasional trees that probably have any water in them. Or cacti, those too.

She is not yet desperate enough to resort to cacti. But if her best known water option is Angry Rhino Oasis, she can try for the nearest cliff or ruin instead.

The environment is very uneven, and she can find the nearest cliff before she finds the nearest ruin, about half an hour's walk northwest.