The relentless assault of the sun beat down upon Adela, its blazing rays showing no mercy. The air she breathed was sweltering, leaving her throat parched and in constant need of relief.
Every step she took back to the tent caused the ground beneath her feet to shift, the fine grains of sand yielding to her weight. In this unforgiving environment, even the slightest gust of wind carried a delicate swirl of sand, tickling her skin and leaving a fine layer of dust on her clothes.
With her brother next to her now, Adela longed for the comfort of her home.
Arkin seemed lost in his thoughts, frozen in front of the tent entrance. It was only when a rare breeze passed through the fabric stirring it gently that he seemed to snap out of his reverie.
Breaking the silence, Arkin asked with a tight jaw, "Where did he sleep last night?"
Egon grunted in response, "What kind of question is that? Outside," he added with a disdainful look directed at Arkin.