Sed looked over his shoulder at his companion coming up the slope.
Jon was picking his way carefully through the shrubs and outcroppings that
covered this side of the mountain.

*We'll never make it at this rate,* he thought, but he knew better than to hurry
Jon. Instead, he took the canteen from his pack and surveyed the country below
him.

The lake dominated the view, surrounded by a layer of thick trees which
quickly gave way to ever smaller copses, and eventually to the shrubs that
dotted most of the landscape. There were no grasses this far south, only
dust. And though there were once farmers in these parts, the drought had forced
them north and east years ago.

*They'll never come back. Nor will the water.*

"Can you feel the lake?" Jon stood nearby, following Sed's gaze to the water
below. He was twenty years Sed's senior, but strength hid behind his wiry
frame and loose robes. Jon was not slow for lack of energy.

"Yes." Sed paused. He could feel it strongly. "It's dying."

He waited a moment before turning back to face the slope. The mountain ahead
glared red in the light of the setting sun. But he knew they were close. *Jon
knows it too.*

There was a dry breeze from the southeast which blew up dust in small clouds and
pushed Sed forward. His cloak was covered in a thin layer of red-brown, and
he knew that without the cloth that covered his face his throat would be coated
with dirt.

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