He took the path in shadow, and it seemed he was forever chasing sunlight as it progressed across the crater faster than his feet could carry him.
Bone-dry tired as he was.
It was better, he supposed, to be in the shadow. He was, he knew, perilously close to collapse.
Still the sun called to him. The shimmer played a trick upon his eyes and he craved the light even as he knew to fear it.
He’d been crossing deserts for what felt like a millennia of a parched destiny.
In linear time it had not been even quite a week …
Since he took the path of shadow.
In life. In hope of refuge. In this.
The sun slunk lower, further elongating the darkened tide of baked dirt, spreading to gobble up the fast receding patch of light.
He’d need to make camp soon.
One time had been plenty to be taken by surprise.
Shadow will not wait long to turn into pitch dark.
For Terri’s Sunday Stills: Path
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