//------------------------------//
// Heat. 
// Story: There Are Always Alternatives 
// by thecyanidefairy 
//------------------------------//

The heat bore down upon her fur, the coarse feeling of the dry hair as if it would be set ablaze at any moment. The sun held its relentless gaze upon the mare, unflinching and unyielding in the clear, cloudless sky.

Her hooves crunched against the parched dirt, there was no life in this soil, no movement. Instead it was crisp and dry, crumbling as each hoof imprinted her weight then lifted away, the broken grains being whipped away by the hot, cruel wind.

The breeze fluttered her tail, heavy and damp with the sweat of her trek across the barren land, yet it offered no respite from the sun, no cooling of her soaked fur. Instead it warmed her further, sending a shudder of stress through her body as it tried to create more sweat in its desperate need for coolness, reaching for moisture reserves she no longer had. Her nose burned with the hot wind, it dried out her sensitive nostrils and filled her lungs with the same tormenting heat that scorched her entire body.

She swallowed; a mistake. It only served as a reminder of her parched throat, itchy and rough from the incredible thirst that had dogged her every step. Her mouth was dry, the water for saliva long sacrificed for her body's need for hydration. Her tongue felt swollen and heavy, like lead against her teeth. She knew she had to drink soon but there was no pure water, not for miles. Her only hope was that the night would bring with it dew, or a storm would suddenly arise from nowhere, as it had done before. These were vague hopes, her practical thoughts pointing out that the sun was at its zenith and there was nary even a wisp of cloud in the sky. False hopes for a mind raving from thirst.

Her hooves lifted slower from the dirt now, grazing the ground before sinking back into the hot earth. She noticed the firey touch of each grain, a small scalding heat against her chipped and broken hooves. Her legs felt weak, trembling as they struggled to continue with her march across the bleak sand. The soil was red, staining the bright mint of her coat a muddy, bloody colour. It was streaked with rivulets of sweat, creating a masterpiece of crimson shades upon her fur.

Dead tufts of plant life dotted the landscape, the grass brown and lifeless. She knew from cruel experience that biting into that grass was a terrible experience, the very points of the plant were as sharp as a sewing needle, and it was as bitter as tainted water, offering no nourishment and stealing what moisture remained in her mouth. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, but the urge to slake her thirst was greater than anything, all consuming.

As if her mind had turned to sadistic treachery, it conjured images of flowing water, of cool glasses filled to the brim with beads of perspiration running down the outside. It reminded her of all the times she had wasted water, splashing it upon her face or even washing her mane with it, when it could have been saved for this moment, to fight the screaming thirst that bit into her throat.

Her body stopped, and she stood still. Her ears flicked to and fro, hearing the ever present whine of cicadas, the rush of the hot wind that burned the inside of her nose, even the thudding of her own heart as it pulsed in time to the ache in her head. There was no other noise but those, and if she shifted, the scraping of her hooves against the dirt and rocks sounded as loud as cannon fire. She lifted one leg as if to keep walking, but found her face burning as if on fire when it instead collided with the scorching ground. She lay there, the pain of touching the earth with her entire body pushed out by the obsessive cravings for water, which swallowed her mind. Reaching a hoof behind her, she slowly retrieved a canteen from her saddlebags. Staring at it, she turned it in her hooves, lost in thought, her mind torn between drinking and simply laying here for the buzzards.

Finally, her choice was made and she lifted it to her lips, sipping slowly at the dark, viscous fluid. It could hardly be called water, it was closer to poison. There was no way to remove radiation from water, and it was all she had. It quenched her thirst all the same, she had to resist gulping it down greedily, knowing that a dose of this size would simply end her bid for freedom before it had even began.

The greasy feeling water settled into her shrunken stomach, roiling and twisting her innards into whatever eldritch abomination she would become at the end of the journey. She felt a sense of wrongness within her, an alien feeling that seeped down to her bones. However, her thirst was now held at bay, and she wearily pushed herself to her hooves, the trek back to Equestria beginning once more.