They started to pass more opulent homes, all of them surrounded by courtyards and tall stone walls that hid most of the buildings and anyone who might be using them. The garbage that had been strewn all over the rest of the city was less as well and there were even a few desert trees on the sidewalks, still alive in the blistering heat. They didn’t see any people, which, given the temperature, didn’t surprise Devon. Zalia looked up as he panted and swallowed with a parched throat, and she smiled, patting his hand with her own. “I must look like a roasted tomato,” he told her. “You’re cute,” she disagreed and blushed, looking down. Devon grinned at her, squeezing her hand despite the heat and his general, sweaty misery. She made him not care how his body felt in this place. She made him not think about the horrible things they were going to have to deal with. With Zalia at his side, it seemed, he could do anything.
