Endure

Outlast

The bandage peeled away gradually, taking several clots of scab tissue with it.  The wound had healed, leaving only a rough scar, like a spiderweb spreading across his torso.  Tal scratched Remus behind the ears and Remus growled slightly in appreciation.

The wind whistled, and Tal was alerted to another sandstorm approaching.  Tal knew the drill, he had experience with sandstorms now.  Whenever one approached, Tal would calmly collect enough water and food to last him several days, and then he would pull the tarp over the entrance to his lean-to and wait out the storm.

This storm was coming quickly, Tal would have to work fast.  Water was a priority, so Tal gathered as many shells as he could carry and dumped them into his shelter.  The storm whipped sand into his face as he struggled back outside to search for food.  Tal realized too late that he would be unable to collect any food in the storm.  He stumbled towards his hut, judging by the howls of Remus.  His vision cleared slightly, and he saw that he was almost inside.  He fell into the house and pulled the curtain across the entrance.

Uneasiness filled Tal's chest as he looked around the shelter for food.  A small pile of rat meat rested in a corner.  It was going to be a long wait.

The rat meat lasted for the first two days, but the storm still raged on.  Remus laid in the corner, whimpering from hunger.  Tal was hungry too, but he forced himself to save the last two rats for as long as possible.  If the storm kept up, it could last for weeks, and Tal did not want to spend weeks without food.

Worse than the hunger, if possible, was the boredom.  The most that Tal could explore was three feet on either side of him.  One day, Tal hadn't even moved out of the same sitting position that he had slept in.  His legs were cramped, and Tal had only carving to distract him from the monotonous whipping of the sandstorm outside.

Tal had whittled a model of himself, though his skill level only allowed slightly accurate proportions and flat faces.  His effigy was too tall, and the feet too wide.  Tal had also whittled a figurine that vaguely resembled Remus.  He was working on another figure, a shorter, squatter figure that Tal liked to think of as what the aliens that supposedly lived here looked like, although he doubted that there was any sentient life on this planet.

The third day passed, and Tal ate one of the rats, making sure that Remus got his share of the legs.  It wasn't enough, and Tal knew it, but the storm was still roaring on the other side of the tarp.

"I hope we make it out of this."  Tal said, his voice cracking from harsh weather and underuse.

Remus whimpered.