-holding to me-
They've been walking in the desert for about a week.
Saleh doesn't like it much; there is too much sand and too little wind. He's never been in Jehanna before, and he hopes he'll never go this far into the desert again.
"Try not to wander too far," Seth advises the unit (not that they could disobey even if they wanted). "We won't be able to track you down if you get lost."
-
Saleh marks the camp's location in his head--there are a few shrubs and they are close to a sand dune--and walks a short distance to meditate.
It is annoyingly hard to walk a short distance in sand. But after several minutes, with the camp at his back so he knows where to return, he stops near a surprisingly green tree (an acacia?) and sits down.
-
The heat may have spurred him to focus more quickly, or he's just fallen asleep--but either way it has gotten dark.
And there is something pulling at his limbs, so he feels like he is submerged in a lake. It is decidedly not like sand, as there is no stubborn sinking that makes him want to pull his legs out from wherever they got stuck. But he can breathe...
Saleh isn't sure if he likes it better than the desert, because there is no one here.
There is a string in his hand, and the pressure of someone holding the other end, so he follows it--through dark water and fish-like movements and a presence lurking behind him. Or beside him; he cannot tell much of anything here.
But he keeps going because there is someone else at the other end, and he would rather not stay with the presence. He gives up on coiling the string neatly, wrapping it around his wrist once in a while, and continues walking.
And walking.
Yet the pressure never ceases.
I'm still here, says the person. Hurry up!
Now they are close enough that the string can be tugged impatiently if he slows down too much, but there is still a long way to go if he wants to see anything.
We can't both wait, you know.
He is coming to the end of the string. And there, past the swimming fish and glowing string, is someone at the edge of his vision.
You're getting closer, says the person, with the tone of voice that sounds like a smile. But, both of them realize, so is the--
-
"--leh? Saleh! Wake up!"
"But wait, I almost--" He grabs at something in a panic, but succeeds only at falling over. "I was about to find them!"
"Find who?" Comes the familiar voice of Moulder. "Whatever you were dreaming about, you're in no shape to find people right now."
"I meant just one..." he looks around; Moulder is sitting next to him, waiting patiently for Saleh to come to his senses.
Gerik stands a slight distance back, in the shade near the acacia's trunk. Compared to the sunlight, the mercenary is in deep shadow; something gleams in his hand (you are close now)--but it is only Gerik's sword being put back in its scabbard.
"It's not an ideal condition, Master Saleh, but it's certainly not as bad as heat stroke," the priest informs him. "The most you'll need is water and rest."
Gerik tosses a canteen to him, and they head back to the rest of the unit. Saleh, despite not being sure of his footing, doesn't need help and doesn't ask for it.
"Figures you wouldn't ask for help," Gerik smiles, though the rest is less cheerful. "But we couldn't wait forever, you know."
-
Note: The web-comic that inspired this was the gorgeously-drawn HERO.