Jake Sanders dragged his feet across the desert. The sand under his bare feet was scorching hot, and made every step a walk towards hell. The Sun, directly above his head, was at its merciless best, and showed no signs of taking a break behind the gossamer clouds. He’d been walking for three days now and trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the terrorists. Being held hostage sounded cool until they’d started killing people.
Now he had no food and water (both bottle and bladder) left, the little he could smuggle out only lasted two days. His throat was parched beyond repair, the bruise on his shoulder was getting worse and at that point, he concluded that that his time was over. There were no human settlements for miles, and he would never make it there like this. He crashed onto the sand next to a cactus shrub, ready to let death devour him.
Then he spotted it. The white butterfly wavering above his head. It looked battered and part of its right wing was missing, and yet was relentlessly trying to land on the wild flower. He had all of his limbs functional and had no excuse for giving up! He slowly managed to get back on his feet again, and as if on cue, a thunder echoed across the sky.
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