Deep scarlet painted the vast horizons, highlighted by mighty sand dunes which stood proudly among the endless plains of desert. Lush cacti dotted the land, bearing deadly spikes camouflaged by a friendly façade of elegant flowers. As it lowered in the sky the sun’s intense heat began to falter, fading from a scorching yellow into a lukewarm red. The air lost its shimmering touch, no longer casting the cruel illusion of water upon any unfortunate enough to wander these wastelands.

Within the vast expanses walked a lone camel, struggling through the gritty sand which seeped through its worn hooves as it trudged onwards. Along its great hump sat a mysterious figure, cloaked in robes which bore patterns from tribes long lost. His face was masked by a tattered bandana, leaving only his strained, tired eyes to show. Around his waist he wore a makeshift belt, holding nothing but a flask, dryer than the desert itself.

He reached with a withered hand for the flask, shaking it only to hear the sound of sand creeping along its dry interior. In an act of pure desperation, he lowered his bandana and raised the tip of the bottle to his parched lips. Rather than the water his mouth ever so desired, he ended up with a mouthful of dirty, gritty sand.

He released a frenzy of wheezing coughs as his lunges were filled with the appalling substance. The sudden reaction sent the camel he rode into panic, who flung him off against the rough ground and scampered away. He tried to get up, tried to lift his tired body off the ground, but he just didn’t have the energy. This was it. This was where it all ended. Stranded, in the middle of the desert, alone.