this place was where many had died.

by sparing himself the sucking heat of the dunes and adding more time to his trek, zoug had prepared for his traipse through the basin.

finding first shelter, the man had dozed until the daytime heat gave way first to evening, then to night.

what he needed was half a day's walk into the basin.

zoug bathed himself in a thin rivulet of sandy water, soaking especially his flanks and wrists. he drank deeply, urinated, and then drank again.

there was no water for a day now, zoug knew as he entered the basin. it was only the intrinsic instinct of a desert animal which told him these things. when morning came, he was close. zoug, already thirsty, found a stone and sucked on it as he crossed the arid plain over which stars winked out one by one.

the white flower with its purple throat and yellow tongues grew in direct heat. zoug felt his pelt heating almost to fire as he stopped to dig the roots, which were deep beneath the sand. his reward was cooler earth, which he rolled into his nape, and then he wrapped the roots in pluckings of his own fur.

there was little shade to be had here. zoug must walk back now, and fast as afternoon intensified upon his single frame.