48 The Land of the Lost

Sebastian continued to ride until the horse physically stopped.

No matter how obedient and trained his horse was, it was an animal after all and it too yearned for water and grew tired.

With the setting of the sun, they had been given some small mercy and Freya had fallen asleep.

Sebastian turned his head to see her.

She was leaning on his back, her sunburnt cheek stuck to his armour and her lips were dry and cracked.

Sebastian licked his own lips and his parched throat ached for a sip of water.

He carefully got off the poor horse, laying Freya's head down on the nape of the steed.

He grabbed the water sack from the horse and swirled it around, peering one eye inside.

With careful rationing and self-control, it could last a day, maybe less depending on how tired Freya was.

He looked around, searching the horizon for anything.

The truth was, he was lost.

He didn't want to tell Freya but his useless compass had filled with sand and no longer worked.