Lion Head Mesa tempus frangit

A shadow came to him. He was cognizant of the fact it was speaking, and knew on some level that meant it was alive and real and not some part of his feverdream; he didn't know the face that drifted before his eye nor the voice in his ear, which meant it was a stranger.

I did what I had to do, he said. He sounded confident at first. The words were genuine but held a rehearsed quality, as if he were speaking a mantra. I had to save her. He wasn't present after all. Whatever had been done to mend his leg hadn't done enough in time. Reyes was weakened once over by the wounds and their festering, again by his hunger and his thirst, and lastly by the memory that haunted him.