A Desert Scent
The lazy, hot air clings to the desert inhabitants of the Grove of Birds, squirming about for shade and ventilation to escape the sluggish heat. The regularly busy thoroughfare of the marketplace is now replaced with unadorned stalls and emptied husks of forgotten potential goods. Outside on the streets, those better prepared have since vacated to cooler destinations, but those less fortunate, or more spontaneous, are continuing to seek refuge.
It is hot, and it is humid. But employment and the noon sun wait for no one.
SIANNE
You remembered to bring rope, right?
Sianne paused her ascent up the steep craggy hill and turned back to confront her companions. Gruth, bent forward and out of breath, squints and peers back up at her.
GRUTH
Sorry?
KODA
I got it.
Koda holds up the bundle of rope.
GRUTH
Oh right. Yeah. Koda’s got it.
SIANNE
For real, Gruth. One thing. It’s all I asked.
KODA
We should find a rest point soon and continue to the top tomorrow—
GRUTH
Yes! That I agree with. Sianne, take note.
Gruth plops down and begins digging through his backpack.
KODA (resuming)
We should conserve water for our way back down. Who knows how long this heatwave will stick around.
Gruth fishes out a large plastic bottle and wildly floods its content into his agape receptacle. Most of it misses the target.
KODA
And I could use a bite.
GRUTH (garbled)
You and your brilliant ideas. I’ll start the fire.
Gruth is now fumbling through the remainder of his pack. And Sianne, still waiting higher up the hill, looks at them in defeat and reluctantly descends back to join them.
SIANNE
Don’t throw in any of your peppers, Gruth. They’re disgusting and it never ends well for any of us. I’m serious this time.
GRUTH
Gah. You and your Southern palettes.
The group deploys a tent and prepares for lunch. And before long, they prepare for the night.