by Hydrargentium

Anthony squinted up at the sun. It was still very high up in the sky. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

Looking back down at the dry scrub beneath his feet, he concentrated on the next step, and then the one after that. If his synerg wasn’t going to come to his rescue, then he was damn well going to have to rescue himself. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he would. Even if it killed him.

So he kept on walking, even though he stumbled frequently on the withered scrub, because his feet were so heavy he wasn’t sure he was even getting them off the ground sometimes. He had a vague idea where he was, somewhere in the Pampas, but that was, he chuckled to himself, a bit like saying you were somewhere on the moon. He shook his head. One foot, then the other. He was heading slightly downslope — either that or he was falling in very slow motion — and if he was going to find water anywhere, it would be down.

Stupid synerg. It had better have a very good reason. Not just saving puppies, either.