Dry Spell - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

“I can’t see anything here, Napoleon.  Just more dry ground.”

Illya was squatting near the remains of a watering hole, his skin bronzed and his eyes pale blue beneath the hat he wore.  Napoleon had his partner’s shirt wrapped around his head, a trace of blood and a lingering headache the only indication of the near miss from a THRUSH bullet.

“We need water, Illya.  Maybe you should go…”

“No.  We stay together.  We will make it out, we just need some luck.”

“Oh, is that all?  Help me up, will ya.  I think we should be on our way.”