Once upon a time, when Emily was a lot younger and only slightly more na?ve than she is now, there was a massive drought that ravaged the lands. She can barely remember skipping down a dry, dusty road towards her school. She remembers the occasional crunch of the dried grass beneath her boot, and the ravaged fields of her friends and neighbours. Even the forest nearby seemed drier than normal, the ever-green leaves turning yellow and brittle and falling off of the trees in droves.

  She remembers the dry heat in the air, and the sweltering sun hanging over her head, burning her cheeks and warming her straw-blonde hair on her head. She just passed by another empty farm, the house recently vacated and the fields barren and cracked, when she spotted it lying there on the side of the road.

  She stopped and stared at it, trying to figure out just what it was. It was small, about the size of her palm. It was brown in colour with some mottled spots here and there; and it was round, with a strangely wrinkly texture across its surface. It reminded her of a weird seed, or a pruny rock.

  Looking around her, she managed to find the most versatile and useful tool that a young child could ever possibly wield: A good, solid stick. Taking it in hand, she returned to her discovery, and did as all kids do when holding a stick and facing something they don’t understand:

  She poked and prodded it.

  It let out a hollow echo as she tapped the stick against it, as if it had no center. It was surprisingly solid, not cracking or buckling or breaking. The surface of it was dry and almost leathery-feeling, and as she runs her stick down its gentle slope, she feels the stick jump in her hands from bumps and ridges mottling its surface.

  Deciding she wants to see what it looks like underneath, she digs her trusty stick into the earth just beneath the new, strange object. She rotates the stick from side to side, back and forth, in an attempt to drill through the sun-baked surface.

  She manages to get the very tip of her stick underneath it. With all of the excitement of a kid shirking off responsibilities in the pursuit of discovery, she leverages her stick, and feels the thing give from its earthy bonds. It pops out from the ground, flipping in midair, before landing back on the earth.

  Emily gasped, as she recognizes its underside. It was pale white, smooth, and had four flippered legs tucked tightly underneath it. A small snout with two ridged eyes, and a large mouth that stretched from one side of its face to the other.

  It was a frog. A mummified frog, dried out from the unrelenting heat and then desiccated by the destructive sun.

  Right now, in this very moment, Emily feels like she really can relate to that frog.

  The sun starts to rise slowly, as she goes from leaf to leaf, suckling on whatever dew she could possibly snatch in her mouth. With each glistening treat, she feels just that slight bit stronger. But in the back of her mind, she worries deeply about what kinds of leaves exactly she is suckling on. She knows that many can be poisonous, ranging from “slightly itchy” to “dead within minutes”. But right now? She’s willing to take that risk.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Blue stands seemingly awkwardly nearby, having felt the weight of Emily’s glare a few times now whenever he tried to sneak off on his own. She just knows the ostrich knows where to find some water. She’s been watching him closely this entire time, and not once has he gone off to drink some water. He must have snuck off while she was asleep last night, drinking his fill before the golem came out of the ground. And this time, when he goes off again, Emily will be watching. She’ll be waiting. And she’ll follow the fluffy little bastard and finally quench her ever-present thirst.

  She moves over to the next fern, running her sandpaper tongue down its waxy surface. Oh, if Nora and Alastair could see her now. Their “great Mage”, reduced to licking ferns for moisture. But the thirst is ever-present, fueled by the exertions of the last few days and the lingering effects of mana burnout. And at this point, Emily has given up on her hubris. She’s willing to sink as low as she can to survive this horrible, no-good, stupid –

  Emily realizes that she hasn’t heard Blue in a while and swiftly looks around herself, her splitting headache flaring at the sudden motion. Her heart soars as she finally sees what she’s been waiting for, all this time:

  Blue’s on the move. And he’s not running excitedly, like he normally does when he’s hunting. This is a more slow, relaxed gait. As if he’s bored and decided to go and do something else.

  As if he’s bored, and decided to quench his thirst.

  The forest rumbles from behind her, trees shaking and foliage falling. The golem has been following them all day, never slowing and never tiring. The first few times Emily saw the rumbling monstrosity coming over the horizon, it terrified her. But with how slow it is, it takes her no time at all to lose sight of it once again. But somehow, it always knows where they are. And it always catches up.

  Great timing.

  Abandoning her fern, she gets up shakily, taking a moment to breathe through the sudden vertigo and the ringing in her ear and the world becoming brighter and brighter around her. Blue starts to disappear through the foliage as she does, and Emily starts to worry that she’ll lose sight of him.

  One shaky step after the other, Emily follows the murder ostrich, licking her lips in anticipation for the quenching that she’s about to experience.

  Blue winds around ferns and through low foliage, not a care in the world as Emily stumbles after him, tripping over roots and getting caught in thorny branches. The rumbling grows fainter and fainter, as the pair leaves the stubborn golem behind.

  As they walk, Blue sniffs the air around him, turning to find Emily following close behind. They lock eyes, staring at each other for a bit.

  And the worst thing that Emily could possibly imagine happens:

  Blue stops walking, turning to look at Emily fully, clacking his beak open and closed as he tilts his head at her.

  Emily feels her heart drop, as visions of soaking herself in a river and slurping up as much water as possible evaporates like water on a hot stone.

  “Come on, Blue! Keep going!” She says cheerfully, trying to encourage the ostrich with no success. “Don’t mind me, boy. Just… Do what you were going to do!”

  He stares at her for a bit longer, before fluffing his wings and pruning himself.

  Emily feels tears well up in her eyes, but nothing comes out. Her tear ducts are completely dry, unable to provide anything left.

  “Please… Just… Find water.”

  She feels her mana snake up towards her heart once again, a small tendril tentatively snaking through her parched cells to curl around the pounding organ, before reaching past and ever-so carefully reaching her brain.

  A small pulse of magic, faint and subtle, shifts out from Emily and washes over Blue, before fading away and disappearing entirely, as if it was never there.

  Blue clucks to himself before turning around once again, continuing to meander through the forest.

  Hope blossoming once again, and not understanding just what she just did, Emily follows behind.