High Plains, Low Desert

"It’s warm again."

Zebulun looked over at Quinn. "We’ve been going downhill, out of the high plains. The desert is below sea level. It likely gets scorching hot in the summer."

"How do you know?" asked Davion. "Have you been here before? Our maps have little information on things this far west."

"Never been here," said Zebulun. "I can tell by the thickness of the air."

"Huh," said Davion. He looked at the ground with his brow furrowed.

The vegetation grew sparse, as they entered the desert, until they saw little at all. Tiny patches of scrub dotted lifeless dirt. They saw few animals, just the occasional rodent or bird of prey.

Zebulun meditated before dawn each day. He found small sources of water to sustain them: a half-dry pond here, a cactus there. He even caught a rabbit to add to their chili.

After two days, the trio saw the mountains rise out of the desert before them. They reached them at nightfall on the third day.