The desert air scoured his skin. The heat was beyond oppressive, a chef preparing his flesh, the sand waiting to digest him when he was done cooking. The sight of men hacked apart was only trumped in his mind by the tangy smell of their blood. Home was little more than a mirage, something almost within his sight which disappeared whenever he tried to approach it.
But through it all, at least he had his closest friend by his side- the one person he could turn to, confide in, lean on. With a smile, Robin offered his waterskin to Much.