She was crossing the strange desert since the early morning. Taking frequent breaks, she emptied one bottle and although the boiler suit protected her from the scorching heat, every step overwhelmed her with an ache in her limbs. Cerridwen gazed at the plume of smoke so as to not lose the sense of direction, but she still had the feeling that from the time she’d set off, she had still not approached the goal.

  I’m alive as long as I have water... and first and foremost, the will to live, she kept repeating this every time she swallowed a sip of the warm, bland water.

  She wanted to keep her mind busy with everything else other than thinking about the dehydration. She began to count her steps but after two thousand, she made a few mistakes and gave up.

  Climbing the hill, she halted sometimes to observe the area. Hour by hour and kilometre by kilometre, the dull landscape of serir and distant mountains purged her of hopes that she would ever reach the crash site of the cargo ship. Every time she slipped or tripped up, a cloud of dust soared from under her boots. The respirator and goggles protected her from the sand, but the brown sediment stuck to her boiler suit and reached the crevices of her body. The ache of broken bones, bruised head and strained muscles forced her to rest longer between her treks. On the other hand, hunger and survival instinct did not allow her to stop, especially now, when she noticed a distant, black-grey mass from which the dark mist plumed. She wiped the layer of dust off her goggles and strode ahead with a step brisker than before.

  Cerridwen arrived her destination at sunset. She halted before the still smoky wreckage. A flickering fire smouldered in some places and scattered all around, gnarled and molten metal parts surrounded the wreck. Sand and gravel buried the majority of them, leaving protruding, sharp edges. Only the spatiotemporal ring lay a dozen meters away, unimpaired. Cerridwen rounded the pile of scrap. She found a ripped hole in the plating and climbed inside.

  She held the wires and cables hanging from the ceiling with one hand, and before she took another step, she pressed the board with her foot to check its toughness. The entire creased interior was full of detached scraps of plating, twisted ducts and shapeless, charred mass that Cerridwen could not identify. Nothing survived the landing and fire, so the Celestian girl gave up on further searches. She did not want to waste her time and risk falling, hurting or causing an explosion of some substances.

  She approached the edge of the hole and slipped to the ground.

  The impact and stab in her flank took her breath away for a moment. Leaning against the wall, she bent to contain the pain. She inhaled slowly to save herself the more severe giddiness. She stood until the pinching eased enough to let her straighten her spine. Walking away from the wreck, she picked up a shiny, sharp sherd from the sand. It reminded her of a spearhead. She wrapped it in a piece of bandage and hid it in her pocket.

  Cerridwen survived the cold night in the middle of the desert only due to the boiler suit. When she woke up, it was covered in a frost, yellowed due to dust. Before midday, she got up, lurching and barely keeping her balance. The Celestian girl drunk the last three sips of water. She missed the cold, tasteless gloop that she ate three days ago. She found her only solace in the impression that the mountains appeared a bit closer than the day before. The canyon between the two steep peaks became her new destination.

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  The next few kilometres took more of her energy. Every single step was, for her, like reaching for the summit towering over the clouds. Bending over, she shambled with a sack on her back. Occasionally she raised her head to look ahead and evaluate if she was walking in the right direction. She resembled an old, ailing beggar, and she pretty much felt the same too.

  The terrain became more undulating, and ginger-grey, sharp rocks protruded from the sand. The wind blasted twice as fiercely, overblowing the thick billows of dust. Cerridwen stopped under the ridge which was five times higher than her to have a rest before climbing towards the canyon. She sat on the ground and brought a bottle out of the sack. She rotated it in her fingers, but it was empty except for a few last drops settled inside. Dropping her head, she threw the useless piece of plastic behind. When the bottle hit the ground, a rustle of moving grains of gravel pealed out. Cerridwen turned warily towards the source of the sound.

  A winged lizard as long as her hand leapt on the stone. It tautened its back, preparing to attack. Hissing, the creature puffed up the feathers on its head and tail. It had camouflaged itself in front of the rocks, so the Celestian girl could not spot it before.

  Food! she thought and grabbed a stone.

  She aimed and threw it weakly in the direction of the potential dinner. The animal sprang at the last moment and soared in the air. Screaming with wrath, it flew towards the mountains.

  Disappointed by the lack of her precision, Cerridwen stood up, shrugging her shoulders. She could barely hold the stone, let alone hitting the agile lizard. She looked at the top of the escarpment, evaluating the height and the hillside slope. Despite this failure, she started climbing not with hope but with confidence that the source of water was somewhere in those mountains.

  Even after she experienced a surge of determination, she began to lose the battle against nature and her own body. She was crossing the narrow canyon with its rugged, stony ground. She spotted the withered leaves and twigs between the stones but no trace of water. Only dust and hundred metres high canyon walls surrounded her. She lumbered along, holding her hand to her sunken stomach. She did not care anymore about scraping her skin bandages which were unchanged for the past few days. Her breaths became heavier and louder by the minute. She had no drop of saliva to damp her parched lips and tongue. In her head reverberated only dull, the rapid pounding of her heart, pumping out her dense blood.

  Blood...

  The last liquid she could use to save herself from dehydration.

  Cerridwen brought out a tiny scalpel. She rolled up her sleeve and took the bandage off her left wrist, uncovering a piece of pink-and-brown skin resembling rotting meat. Cerridwen glanced at the blade. She surveyed it from all sides. She hesitated for a few seconds. The natural aversion and fear of infection repelled her from this act. She licked her dry teeth with her stiff tongue. She could not swallow anything to get rid of the heavy phlegm in her throat.

  Cerridwen clenched her teeth and slid the blade across her skin. She observed with wide eyes the dense blood sluggishly draining out of the scar. She held her breath and took the respirator off. The Celestian girl put her chapped lips to the point of the cut. Nauseous, metallic taste engulfed her mouth, and her stomach shrunk down, preparing to vomit. She sucked the first sip of the warm liquid up. She swallowed it with an effort, but right then she felt the urge for more. She licked drop by drop until she made herself stop. Her body demanded rehydration, but Cerridwen could not let the blood loss enfeeble her even more.

  She wore the respirator again to regulate her breathing and tightened the bandage around the wound. She still could not understand what she had just done. The pain of the cut skin and the tickling, draining drops of blood seemed unrealistic to her, as if she were out of her body. Due to that feeling, she did not refrain from drinking her own blood.

  The Celestian girl got up with shaky legs and staggered forwards.