In these lands of scorched earth and cloudless sky,

Water is scarce,

And desperation runs high.

. . .

On top of the sandstone mesa glowed a small red sphere of fire, its embers dancing with the stars. The smell of burning kindling wafted through the chill night air, the crackle of the fire’s feast echoing through the quiet dunes below. Sitting cross-legged beside the fire was a woman leaning back onto the palms of her hands, soaking in its warmth. She had beautiful black skin and a shaven head, with eyes that looked through things rather than at them. A thin scar was engraved on her cheek, cutting diagonally across her ear. Gold shimmered on the buttons of her vest and the brim of her cowboy hat. A matching golden pistol sat silently in the holster at her hip.

“Damn,” she cursed, staring through the hole in her canteen. She shook the last few drops of water into her mouth and sighed, dissatisfied. “That idiot managed to miss me but shot my canteen. I don’t know which is worse, to be honest,” she sighed.

The night stood quietly above her, a vast blanket of stars and planets. Her dark eyes reflected the moonlight like the blue sky in water.

“At least I’ve still got these,” she groaned, taking a can of beans from her satchel. She unclipped a knife from the strap across her thigh and stabbed it into the top of the can. Clumsily, she worked it around the can’s perimeter until the lid popped clean off. Using the knife as a spoon, she carefully scooped the cold beans into her mouth and chewed.

She paused as a slithering sound echoed up the side of the mesa. A sepequs climbed up over the edge with a rider upon its back. The sepequs had the appearance of a snake but was the size of a horse, fitted with a saddle and reins. This one, in particular, was rust red with white and black stripes. The sepequs’s rider had toffee-brown skin, her black, curly hair pushed back by a dark-green headband. She had thick, sturdy limbs and a plump figure which she carried with an air of pride. A sleeveless white blouse was buttoned over her chest, tucked into a high, pleated skirt. Vera watched with cool contentment as the stranger drew close.

“Hello, I don’t mean to intrude. I just saw your fire and was hoping to warm up a bit. You’d think a desert would be hot, but I’m near freezing,” the rider said awkwardly. “My name is Emaline.”

“You can call me Vera,” the woman with the cowboy hat said. “Are you from the city or something?” she added with a skeptical glare.

“Is it that obvious?” Emaline chuckled, rubbing the back of her sunburnt neck.

“Most folks don’t trek out here unless they know they’ll be warm come nightfall,” 

Emaline’s eyes wandered down to the can of beans in Vera’s hand, her stomach groaning loudly. She laughed and cocked an embarrassed grin. “Forgot to pack some food as well,” she said sheepishly.

Vera inspected the sepequs, glaring at the bags tied to the sides of its saddle. “Whatcha got in there, then?”

Emaline reached over the side of the saddle and untied the bags, revealing two glass jugs of water.

“Stranger, you’re in luck,” Vera chuckled, smiling. “I have food but no water, and you have water but no food. I think we might be able to come to a compromise here.”

“I’ll shake to that,” Emaline said, sliding off the sepequs and shaking Vera’s hand.

After a few minutes, they’d managed to empty two cans of beans and half a jug of water. The women both sighed with their hands resting on their full, happy bellies. The sepequs slithered up beside Emaline, pushing its head onto her lap.

“You must be hungry, too, huh?” she teased, tossing the remains of her dinner into the sepequs’s open maw.

“So, how’d you end up all the way out here?” Vera asked.

“It’s not a long story. Or a very interesting one.” Emaline gently petted the top of the sepequs’s scaled head.

“I doubt that. You’re traveling with two gallons of water. Probably four, if I opened the bags on the other side of that saddle. Besides, this isn’t any ordinary well water—this is pure.” Vera eyed the sweat growing across Emaline’s face. “You must be sitting on a fortune in order to afford this kind of stuff.”

“…It’s true,” Emaline admitted, rolling her thumbs. “I come from a very wealthy family. I’ve never even stepped foot in the desert before—but you already figured that out.”

“So why leave?” Vera asked. “Most folks would kill—have killed—to be where you are, to have what you have.”

Emaline turned and stared off into the desert, painted purple under the night sky. “The ashes…” she murmured.

“Ashes?”

“My father passed away about a month ago. His dying wish was that his ashes be spread in the Jungo River,” Emaline explained. “Nobody else in my family wanted to go. They didn’t like my father much to begin with. So I grabbed what I could and I left.”

“Well, spare your family another funeral and head back,” Vera said bluntly.

“I can’t,” Emaline protested. “This is simply something I have to do.” Suddenly, her naïve, teary eyes lit with an idea. “What if you took me there?” she asked excitedly.

“Huh?” Vera gasped.

“You wouldn’t go unpaid,” Emaline quickly added. “I’d like to hire you to get me safely to the Jungo River.” She held out a drawstring bag of bronze oreales.

“You got a death wish or something? If you were to point to Jungo on a map, you wanna know how far we are from it? We’d be on opposite corners. An inexperienced thing like you wouldn’t last a day.”

“But that’s where you come in,” Emaline explained. “You know how to survive out here. You can teach me.” After realizing Vera was unmoved by her little speech, Emaline continued, “You are a mercenary, aren’t you?”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Well, you look the part, I suppose. You’ve got a mysterious glare.”

“Mysterious glare,” Vera chuckled loudly. “Fine, then. So what if I am?” She sighed, thoroughly amused.

“Mercenaries like money,” Emaline said, like it was a fact. “And I have money.”

Vera shook the small drawstring bag. “A service of this stature is worth more than this.”

“Think of it as a down payment. Once you get me to Jungo, I’ll get in contact with my family and ensure you’re well compensated.”

Vera considered the idea a moment, thinking up at the stars. “Sounds like a clean deal to me,” she said, holding out her hand.

Emaline stared at the gesture, a little surprised at her own negotiation skills. With a cheery smile, she reached out and shook.

Just then, as if an omen, red light stretched across the sand with the rising sun. It climbed up the mesa, lighting their faces in crimson.

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