Desert

          The sun is almost a physical weight down on your head and shoulders. There is no escape from its burning gaze among the dunes that stretch and roll as far as the eye can see. And farther than the trail of footprints that you are following seem to go. You sigh in relief at that. Sand was getting into places that sand shouldn't be getting into.
          You glance back over your shoulder and groan at the fact that you can't see your starting point anymore. But your target is only about three dunes ahead. Four by the time you catch up.
          You re-shoulder your pack and head forward, trudging through the sand. You slip and slide across the gentle slopes as the soft material refuses to bear your weight. You curse this desert and everything in it. You pray to anyone, anything that will listen that there isn't a sand storm brewing just over the next stretch of dunes.