Three Little Words

The wind stirred the heat slowly across the prairie like a giant convection oven, browning the fields evenly on all sides until the earth began to split from lack of moisture. A lone figure walked along the dusty road, stopping occasionally to look over its shoulder. Two shadows trotted faithfully beside it, leaving only to chase a grasshopper or pounce on an imaginary dust devil.

The sounds of the prairie were strongest in the shade of the solitary tree that sat on the road’s edge. Here a small pool had managed to keep its shape and all manner of things had taken refuge near its life-giving waters. Sand pipers, their long thin legs wading in and out of the shallows, were dining on the less fortunate water beetles and mosquitoes. Frogs lay nestled deep in the mud, their eyes ever alert for a wayward cricket or horse fly. The tracks of cattle and antelope made convenient water dishes for the lone skunk and a few field mice.

The two shadows ran quickly for the pool, tongues lolling and sides heaving, anxious to get in a few licks and then perhaps a bird or two. The figure continued to walk, unaware and uninterested in the life that lay so near. It continued to look over its shoulder, now running, now walking, looking back again as if expecting to be rundown at any moment.