Literature
Wartime - Ch. 5
A marsh full of irritating bugs and sticky air was better than being boiled to death, Pebble decided. It was like the landscape had transformed before his eyes, leading from the lush valley and spilling out into
nothing. Nothing but endless waves of short, golden grass, sun-baked dirt, and a rare gnarled tree. The valley had been cool with all the air funneling through it, but out in such a flat grassland, the heat was unbearable. He had long slowed to a labored walk under the intense sunlight, pulling his scarf from around his neck and draping his shirt over his shoulder. A little sunburn wouldn't kill him, but his lack of water would