Digging for Wells

Darius poked the sand with a stick, the sun was at its hottest and his crew had retired into the shade to lie down and close their eyes for a time...

The morning had offered no progress, with two more wells dug - both ungiving. Fifteen in all were now failures.

The engineer in him had known from the outset just how fruitless this lot would be, but what was there to be done?

He kicked the ground unwittingly, and closed his eyes listening to the songs of prayer calling out from the town below.

As his mind gave way to the heat and the gentle chanting in the distance, he began to doze with bowed head. Moments later he was woken quickly from the sensation of a hand lightly falling upon his neck.

It was his little son Tyber, who had been running alongside his mother, and had out sped her walking up the hill. They had come to bring him a small cloth bag of olives and a pitcher of water that was revived with a little juice.

He took his snack gratefully and smiled at the two.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series