15
Smoke ate quickly and quietly in the shade of his shelter, away from his men and the crackling fire.
Night fell quickly, and the sky turned into a deep navy blue, with only a few stars.
A chilling cold swept across the sands in a way Smoke hadn't expected. He wished the cops dropped jackets.
Maybe they did, but his men weren't able to get to them in time.
It didn't take long for them to burn through the rations they had picked up from the drop.
The mens’ morale was low.
Half of them died in the mouths of the sand lampreys.
Smoke hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.
How he'd been outmaneuvered. How just about everyone here had the advantage simply by being here longer. He wondered at what point he would begin to have an edge.
Hopefully it was before he got eaten by sand
