He had to last until he got Talia back to the oasis. Those who’d ridden with him offered again to take care of her, of both of them. He couldn’t let them. Wouldn’t. He had to be the one to carry her to safety. As he’d promised. He asked a few of them to go back in his and Talia’s tracks before they were wiped away by the incoming sandstorm, to retrieve what he’d ditched. The medical supplies most of all. He let those who stayed with him help secure Talia astride the horse, ensconced in his arms like he’d had her during their rests between the punishing hikes. The ride back to the oasis took longer. Too long. Each moment seemed to expand, to refuse to let the next replace it, bound on prolonging his ordeal, on giving him more time to relive the hell of being forced to leave her behind. He’d gone further out of his mind with each bounding step away from her. He’d struggled to force himself to focus so he could see his path to the oasis, their ticket to survival. But the sight of her bundled up in blankets and ensconced in the barricade of a steep dune had been branded on his brain.
