The longer he waited, the more the sun beat down upon him. There was no mercy as it tore at his epithelial cells. A sheen of sweat soon appeared on his coat, and even more so than before did he shine like a beacon in the desert. He shone, glittered. His scales in turn reflected the sun’s brilliance. Not just a beacon- he was the burning ball of fire lighting the solar system.
But even the sun has to set sometime. As the sunset painted the sky in fiery reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows, Silas was still soaked in frothy sweat. He was parched, dehydrated by his body’s natural cooling method. He wanted water, but panic had not set in— yet. Instead he savored the burn inside and out.
She was the nurse that seemed to appear from nowhere.
She approached him, little hesitation in her step. Could mirages talk? This one was talking, and Silas tried to remember if he’d ever been prey to auditory hallucinations. He hadn’t, though he’d once known a gal....
‘What are you doing here?’
He blinked to clear his mind, and the perspiration from his eyes. The sun illuminated her while keeping him a silhouette until she neared. Her coat was darker than the sand, such was the sweat’s darkening effect. She was fair, a pretty maiden. Clearly she was no damsel in distress from the way she carried herself. (Not that he would have saved her, unless perhaps to obtain a favor owed.)
”An excellent question. I am here because I choose to be.” A smirk played at the corners of his lips; he was feeling ornery. ”Who are you to question that? You are as much a stranger in this encounter as I am.” A local, perhaps. Her confidence in the vast desert and assertiveness in questioning him led him to believe as much. But he could have a little fun being difficult, couldn’t he.
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