Wanting to explore the vastness of the desert firsthand, Sam had set off in the morning with the intention to arrive across the frontier by midday - until he found himself pursued by a ravenous wolf.
Now, having dropped his supplies, the map, and with no means to contact anyone, Sam dragged his feet across the dirt as his eyes met the sight of a lone house in the middle of complete desolation.
Apart from the house, the entire vicinity was barren and lifeless. He saw a singular bead of light emitting from inside an open window, and approached the front door.
However, a trepidation consumed him, and found himself unable to bring his knocks to the owners' attention. Before he could allow instinct to carry him elsewhere, the door creaked open.
A middle-aged man with a mild stench of rotting eggs stood grinning before Sam; he wore a tweed hat that nearly covered his eyes, his hair was long and blond, which were parted slightly around the middle although left most of them covering his face. The man appeared as if his prayers had been answered, beaming at Sam while flashing those yellowed teeth.
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"Come on in, young man," he spread out his arms as if expecting a hug. "Enough room for everyone."
Before he could explain his situation, Sam was ushered into the house, which reminded him of those abandoned shacks he had ventured into as a dare in his youth. There didn't seem to be any running power, and the room was illuminated by two small flames on a dining table. A large torso of an animal Sam couldn't make out had been served in the middle of a table, much too enormous to seem like a meal for one. His questions were answered when he saw another person move into the light.
It was a woman, seeming around the age of the man, and she too carried an expression of welcome as she peered at Sam from behind half-moon spectacles, complemented by silvering strands of hair by the sides of her face.
"How lovely, we have a guest," the woman clasped her hands together, registering Sam as if he were her son returning from the war, "here, you can have the honor seat."
This chair was in the middle of the table, close enough to reach the steaming meal, but also in the proximity of both of his hosts if they wanted to reach out to him. Sam took his place as instructed, smiling uncomfortably as the couple continued to beam at him without speaking.
After a few seconds of silence where all everyone did was quietly bare their teeth at one another, the man picked up a large knife - almost as big as a saw - and shoved it toward Sam. His eyes were splattered with red.
"So sorry about that," the lady picked herself up in a hurry and dabbed Sam's face, "Travis gets a little enthusiastic with the food."
Sam wiped his eyes to see a large slice of meat on his plate the man had cut up for him, giving him a pat on the shoulder to apologize was the splatter.
"Give him some room, Terry, he's gotta move his arms, after all," Travis tittered at his wife holding Sam's shoulders for such a prolonged period. She laughed it off and went back to her seat.
