She stood, alone. The plain of dust swirled around her. It's warm breeze caressing her skin with it's harshness. Her feet, half buried, revelled in the stony ground beneath her.

Sighing, she moved on. Her feet, long since drained of moisture by the heat, resembled the landscape upon which she walked, cracked and hard. Her lithe body swayed in the wind into which she walked.

Forgetting the sorry state of her water skin, she raised it to her lips. To no avail. It was as dry as last she checked.

The despair did not simply wash over her. Rather it slowly eroded the rocky face of her hope, it's dusty claws burrowing slowly. As such she had already accepted the likelihood of her death. It was no suprise. She had simply had enough.

Her knees buckled. She lay undignified on the sand face upwards. With a considerable effort she forced her lips to function.

With them she mouthed, "I thank you."

Eyes closing she waited for death to claim her.