Off in the distance. A faint row of scraggly shrubs tangle with sand and rocks for water. It’s a destination of sorts. It would be freedom. It’s a new start. The place of refuge. Long arms of the law need not look there.
Dry air and heat only give way to chilly nights. The desert cares little about good or evil. It’s water or no water. Life or death. Even in death, life comes out to feast. Blessed is he that is upright, pity for the fallen. Maybe the next turn at life strength and wisdom will prevail. The Mountain lion taking down the deer is just doing the same thing. What you need to survive.
My shadow is the only thing following me. It’s the only thing willing to come our here with me. The arroyo, dead creek bed takes me to my peace. I cross from death to life, sought to forgotten, dare I say, evil back to good. The border is nothing but a line made of sand. Just like us.