(draft v 1.0)
CONTENT WARNING: coarse language and adult themes

DIRT. ROCKS. IRRITABLE SCRUB that lacerates and bites. The sun is high in the sky, its stare a hot weight on his head and shoulders. Cliffs loom above the treetops, caramelising in the heat. His pack slaps and jiggles against his spine. He thinks of camels, Khartoum and deserts. Walks on for a while with a military, grit-your-teeth stride, like a man on a forced march. He just wants it to be over. Wants to find out what happened, and go home.