Viorel had always been a night owl, but as they approached the hottest time of the year with no reprieve from the drought the habit was being reinforced. The only time he saw the light of day was when his youngest children needed to be watched so Vanadis could have a break. As of now the dark man was prowling, searching in vain for the millionth time for water closer to the pack. Something, anything.

The marsh had long since dried up, and cattails that once stood proud laid wilted and plastered against cracked earth. He had never seen anything like it. He never wanted to see anything like it again. Viorel suddenly felt something small connect with his toe and go skittering across the dry earth, wobbling to and fro before stopping. Peering close to investigate he was surprised to see a slimy head peak out from inside the shell. He would have thought snails needed more moisture to survive.

Maybe he should bring this treasure back to his children to play with. Or, maybe he should look for the water that was keeping this small thing alive. Or both?