Harsh copper sand. The sun a rust-red glare. The sky cruel-bright. The shadow of a dragon on the sand, flitting and shifting as it flew away from her.
Fay looked down at the Martian soil and into her own shadow. It was the only cool place on the landscape, now that the dragon-dark had flitted away. And in her shadow her eyes found a little green, gently soothing the darkness.
Fay moved. She stepped away from the faint grass of her shadow and, swishing her feet over the top of the sand, she plunged uphill a few paces. Looking back at where she had been, Fay saw the emerald tinge spread, slowly, but visibly. It held her unwilling gaze. It was not grass: it was a sight-magnet. And there, in her new shadow, more grass started growing.
This was not what she had planned! Fay panicked and ran
