The endless sea of sand crunch beneath the toes of the coyote as its nails scrape the dried earth. With the sand being so dry, it's easy to lose traction of one's footing. During the day, the coyote found itself constantly slipping from the sluggishly shifting sand. When the coyote did plummet to the ground, the sand burned the hairs off it. It has burnt flesh beneath the fur and is full of scars from the burning pebbles. Parched air whimpers throughout the wasteland, begging for moisture. But there's not a hint of water to drink. The fat beaming firefly drags itself across the cloudless blue sky. All the coyote can do is slowly crawl through the wasteland.
Through the unending hours, the pulsing firefly buzzes through the dull blue. As it moves through the sky, the sky grows dark until the firefly crosses the distant horizon. The sky changes from a dying light blue to inescapable black. The yellow firefly had fallen hours ago, with the mostly squished white firefly stealing its place. The white firefly is a slither of white, barely lighting the sparse landscape. There're billions of distance burning fireflies caught in a net of black that graces the desert with enough light to see invisible paths through the sand. The coyote goes swimming through the uneasy evening. Soaring inside the inky netting, a few fireflies manage to move within their trap. Most fireflies stay pinned inside the net, with only a few fireflies able to fly. With the night, it's easier for the coyote to travel the desert.
As the coyote searches for a safe place to rest, it follows the directions of the trapped fireflies. Whispers of wind stream past the coyote's ears. The harsh whips of air cause the coyote to fold its ears down to protect the sensitive insides. Even when its ears are folded down, the whistle of the wind pierces its eardrums. The minutes are on until finally, the breeze dies. The coyote freezes for a second to observe the area. Black eyes drag across the land. Cactuses and sanded over rocks sparsely litter the desert. There's nothing much to hide behind to take advantage of the coyote's tired state. Any threat to the coyote has possibly taken to slumber.
Sleep is the most desirable activity at the moment. But rest won't be easy for the coyote. Without packmates to watch its back, danger could strike as it slept. A night of rest is useless when the mind is on constant alert. The coyote's dreams are abandoned, as its mind is abuzz with the anxiety of possible danger. The coyote has to carries on, as there is no possible shelter to find here. It must follow the untouchable fireflies through the wasteland. Even when its paws bleed and its legs give out, causing the coyote to crash to the ground. Rest is useless, as only the promise of the desert end will allow the coyote to stop.
Hours have passed since the coyote started making its way across the sand. Lazy sand tornados twirl in the air. Distance chirps of desert bugs tickle the coyote's ears. Sadly, no friendly howls run through the night air. There's no chance of joining a pack or being adopted by a pair of older coyotes. The coyote is left to drift through the unending wasteland. Thirsty for security that solitude can't grant. But wallowing in despair isn't going to lead the coyote out of the desert faster. Forward it must go if there's any chance of survival. Twirling sand tornados die off as the coyote continues its forward pace.
The broken white firefly is behind the coyote as the pinned fireflies flicker ahead. It's a frosty night as the temperature drops further. Better to walk atop icy sand than burning pebbles that wedge between toes and claws. During the day, each step is a scorching pain without a place to rest. Sanded over rocks is nothing more than a taunting resting place that oozes heat. If rested upon without scales, blistering burns will scar the flesh that made contact with the rock. But at night, these rocks provide shelter for serpents. Some of which are venomous. Although the snakes are asleep, disturbance to their slumber is risky. The coyote carries on as the end of the desert should be near. Just ahead is the horizon where the fat yellow firefly fled. It is there that the wasteland ends, and so the coyote strives forward in solitude. END.
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