He opens his eyes. He's still alive. His throat hurts, it's parched dry. He hasn't had a single drop of water since when he ran away from the last Oasis. Mindlessly, blindly, not caring about the consequences. He'd run. Run from where he had been happy, where he didn't have to worry about dying of thirst or hunger. He'd run as far as his legs would carry him.
And then he fell and that was all he remembered.
