Hey there! Not a ton going on this week, I just have some company from out of town over. So I'll keep this short. What's going on in your life?
I need more practice writing description, so that's what I'll focus on in today's scene.
She stared across the distance before her--gently-rolling hills of sand and loose dirt, dotted frequently with large rocks and scrub, the mesa still a mile or more away. Its shadow loomed over the land around it like a cloud. She shivered, then focused back on her current plight. Her throat felt like she'd been swallowing flour. Dry, but still somehow gunky. She shook her flask again out of habit. Nothing.
And perched halfway up one of the cacti was a nest of chicks. She put effort into blinking as she looked at them again, trying to force some moisture out so she could focus better. They were right at the age where they'd gotten their feathers, but their eyes were still too big for their heads. Adorable. How could she be considering what she was considering?
She didn't have any tools, so the cacti--the only plants in the area which would yield enough moisture--would tear up her hands, possibly poisoning her. But decent, modern human beings didn't kill baby birds. She looked to the mesa again.
She wouldn't make it. Unless...