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Description
The truck was still visible far to the east, its rumble breaking across the massive expanse of empty sand from just beneath the rising sun. Phil watched it go as he dabbed at his bleeding lip with the hem of his shirt, a snarl still splayed across his face.

It was not until the distant marauders were far beyond the reach of his eyes before the youth moved, rising from where he knelt among the tan specks of earth to dust a few determined grains from his jeans. He once again dabbed at his lips to find, much to his satisfaction, that the wound had closed.

The immediate worry overcome Phil surveyed his options, his mind tumbling through a series of possibilities. It emerged from the maelstrom of contemplation with two suggestions:

First the boy considered heading east, pursuing the truck owned by his kidnappers. He had been taken from his tour group by the men, left stranded in the desert as punishment for offering resistance. Though blindfolded he knew well that the lawless bunch would not head further into the inhospitable, devilishly hot climate.

But another possibility also presented itself to the injured tourist. He had seen more than one map of the region and, through a mixture of intrigued study and hapless chance, he had spotted an oasis to the west of Cairo, a place where what remained of nomadic herdsmen gathered water on occasion. He was nearly a day out of the city, a journey that could easily kill him; he was, with any luck, mere hours from the natural well.

His feet shifted in indecision as the sun slowly left the horizon behind, blazing across the dunes to glare at him like a great yellow eye. A single bead of sweat budded up along the teen's hairline as he wiped his brow, cupping a hand before his face in an attempt to see beyond the haze in the distance.

It was with a hesitant stride that he started forward, turning away from the city. For the first mile his only enemy was reluctance, every instinct that manifested itself within him screaming to head back towards civilization; but, after the first thousand strides, the monster at his back became the heat, the overpowering waves of blistering sweat the sun forced from him, like a vampire drinking from his body.

Before the first hour had seen its finish he was on his knees, salty fluid dripping down his nose to sink into the blazing earth. The sand sucked up the droplet readily, the dry earth acting as though it had never felt the touch of water.

"What is this place?" Phil asked aloud, his question reverberating across the endless expanse of inhospitable ground to go unanswered somewhere close to the horizon. The silence was broken moments later with a sigh as the youth attempted to rise again, lost the will, and fell back face first to the tan carpet rolling across the Sahara.

He lay amid his crushed hopes and sweat for the longest time, staring off into the dunes as he realized they were the last things he would ever see. What may have been another hour passed, the seconds ticking by, each taking with it part of the boy's life force.

And then there was a change, a shift in the unmoving landscape. Perhaps, Phil reasoned, it was a mirage; but what appeared to be a shadow, an oval of manifested darkness, temporarily sped across his field of vision. Then it disappeared to the north and, as far gone as the boy found himself, he lacked the will to shift his gaze to follow it.

Then the shade again passed across the sand, this time heading south. It was closer this time, taking its several hundred yards away to a range less than half of the previous.

And then Phil felt the wind: a refreshing, invigorating rush of cool air that seemed almost to return the energy seeping from his pores back to his muscles. With a groan he managed to blink and, ever so slightly, rise amid his bed of dry earth.

His eyes focused immediately on the pale blue form descending from above. There was no doubt that the creature was a dragon, the spitting image the medieval tales described.

The whole planet seemed to shake violently when the magnificent being landed, sand flying up around the razor sharp claws as they dug into the ground. A great wind sent the desert into a frenzy as the enormous leathery wings beat at the atmosphere, cooling the air as if to create a refuge of coolness amid the world of the sun.

Two bright, caring silver eyes gazed down at the nearly immobile form as the dragon leaned forward. A feminine voice reached Phil through his haze of disbelief, asking simply "Are you hurt?"

"You could say that." The human admitted, each word causing his throat to seem as though it were coughing up dust. His dry lips cracked under the strain of the syllables and a thin globule of blood dripped among the thirsty grains of sand beneath him, painting a tiny fraction of the desert red.

"How long have you been out here?" she pressed. As she spoke she reached for Phil, cradling his body – remarkably small compared to her length of well over one hundred feet – in her paw.

"A few hours," he replied.

"You're covered in bruises… were you attacked?"

"Thugs," was all he could manage. The dragon merely nodded in reply.

"You're dying." She said, the words ever so ominous as they spilled from the mouth of one so powerful, so wise and knowledgeable. To the dehydrated, helpless youth, they seemed to be his death sentence.

"But," she continued, her gaze flashing with concern and affection "I can save you. I will save you – but, if you want to live, you'll have to trust me."

Stilling up the whole of his remaining energy Phil nodded.

The cool scales shifted as the dragon moved her paw closer to her muzzle. Her breath, unlike that of a normal living creature, was cool as it snaked out across the body of the human. In a matter of moments the steady inhaling and exhaling was all around him as he entered the maw of the dragon, placed ever so gently along a tongue that felt as chilled as the winter wind that spilled over it.

The great dragon wasted no time, leaning her head back and swallowing. The body passed into her throat to form a slight bulge, descending quickly towards the predator's chest where it disappeared.

Before long she felt Phil slip into her stomach, his arrival accompanied by weak squirming. She cringed, knowing he was undoubtedly terrified as, within, the morsel scrambled to his knees.

He lay along what he could only describe as some sort of shoreline. The ground beneath him shifted about ever so slightly and felt cool and comforting to the touch while, just beyond, tiny waves, inspired by the dragon's eternal heart beat, lapped against the stretch of flesh. The rising and falling tides were not of swirling, steaming acid, however, but instead consisted of a substance more treasured throughout the desert than any other: pure, crystal clear water.

The youth fell forward in a gladdened frenzy, cupping his hand to slurp up the treasured liquid. It passed quickly from within the dragon to his own awaiting belly, each sip seemed to refresh and revitalize his entire frame until, after his lengthy drink was finished, he was able rise to his feet.

"Are you feeling better?" the caring voice of the dragon asked, echoing through her insides with all the power of a goddess.

"I am." He assured her. "But who are you? Why do you want to help me?"

"They call me Pearl." She explained. "And, honestly, I couldn't just leave you to die out here…"

"I'm Phil." The boy in her belly said in introduction, patting the side of her stomach in place of a formal handshake. The touch clearly satisfied the dragon and she gave a rumble of pleasure, perhaps a return for his own gesture.

"You were heading to the oasis." She stated solemnly, the landscape around Phil shifting as she settled down amid the dunes outside.

"I was." He confessed.

"It's gone." She relayed simply. "The waters were sacred to dragon kind and yet humans, with their modern greed, took more than they needed to survive. To preserve the holiness of the pool I took it within myself – I do not need to eat and, as such, my stomach is the perfect place to hold the waters."

"It's fine." Her bowels' guest assured her. "It wasn't the place I was looking for, just the water. You really saved me in bringing it here; I wouldn't have made it much further."

"You also probably can't make it back." Pearl reasoned. "But I can fly you towards Cairo – I can get within about an hour of the city without being seen and you can get back to your friends."

"For all they know I'm dead out here." Phil confessed. "It would be just as easy for me to stay with you."

The tone in his voice sank deeper than his body. The dragon squirmed around him in an excited frenzy and, under the earthquake that shook the organic cavern, Phil was thrown back to his knees, splashed by the turbulent waters of the inner oasis.

"You want to stay with me?" she asked, surprise etching itself into the cracks of her melodic voice.

"I hoped you wouldn't mind the company." He admitted sheepishly.

"The desert gets lonely." She said, her words almost poetic as they spilled down her throat to Phil. "Even for something as large as myself the Sahara is a big place. But, with someone else around, it feels a lot smaller, a lot more homely. I can't think of anything I'd want more than to have you beside me.

"But I'm sure you're ready to get back outside. It must be scary trapped inside a dragon." She said sympathetically. "If you'll just walk over to the entrance to my throat-"

Unable to look within herself Pearl missed the grin that splayed itself across Phil's face. He patted the side of her stomach again, making no move to position himself as his savior had suggested.

"Pearl," he said with a chuckle "I guarantee there is no place in the world I'd rather be."

Description
The truck was still visible far to the east, its rumble breaking across the massive expanse of empty sand from just beneath the rising sun. Phil watched it go as he dabbed at his bleeding lip with the hem of his shirt, a snarl still splayed across his face.

It was not until the distant marauders were far beyond the reach of his eyes before the youth moved, rising from where he knelt among the tan specks of earth to dust a few determined grains from his jeans. He once again dabbed at his lips to find, much to his satisfaction, that the wound had closed.

The immediate worry overcome Phil surveyed his options, his mind tumbling through a series of possibilities. It emerged from the maelstrom of contemplation with two suggestions:

First the boy considered heading east, pursuing the truck owned by his kidnappers. He had been taken from his tour group by the men, left stranded in the desert as punishment for offering resistance. Though blindfolded he knew well that the lawless bunch would not head further into the inhospitable, devilishly hot climate.

But another possibility also presented itself to the injured tourist. He had seen more than one map of the region and, through a mixture of intrigued study and hapless chance, he had spotted an oasis to the west of Cairo, a place where what remained of nomadic herdsmen gathered water on occasion. He was nearly a day out of the city, a journey that could easily kill him; he was, with any luck, mere hours from the natural well.

His feet shifted in indecision as the sun slowly left the horizon behind, blazing across the dunes to glare at him like a great yellow eye. A single bead of sweat budded up along the teen's hairline as he wiped his brow, cupping a hand before his face in an attempt to see beyond the haze in the distance.

It was with a hesitant stride that he started forward, turning away from the city. For the first mile his only enemy was reluctance, every instinct that manifested itself within him screaming to head back towards civilization; but, after the first thousand strides, the monster at his back became the heat, the overpowering waves of blistering sweat the sun forced from him, like a vampire drinking from his body.

Before the first hour had seen its finish he was on his knees, salty fluid dripping down his nose to sink into the blazing earth. The sand sucked up the droplet readily, the dry earth acting as though it had never felt the touch of water.

"What is this place?" Phil asked aloud, his question reverberating across the endless expanse of inhospitable ground to go unanswered somewhere close to the horizon. The silence was broken moments later with a sigh as the youth attempted to rise again, lost the will, and fell back face first to the tan carpet rolling across the Sahara.

He lay amid his crushed hopes and sweat for the longest time, staring off into the dunes as he realized they were the last things he would ever see. What may have been another hour passed, the seconds ticking by, each taking with it part of the boy's life force.

And then there was a change, a shift in the unmoving landscape. Perhaps, Phil reasoned, it was a mirage; but what appeared to be a shadow, an oval of manifested darkness, temporarily sped across his field of vision. Then it disappeared to the north and, as far gone as the boy found himself, he lacked the will to shift his gaze to follow it.

Then the shade again passed across the sand, this time heading south. It was closer this time, taking its several hundred yards away to a range less than half of the previous.

And then Phil felt the wind: a refreshing, invigorating rush of cool air that seemed almost to return the energy seeping from his pores back to his muscles. With a groan he managed to blink and, ever so slightly, rise amid his bed of dry earth.

His eyes focused immediately on the pale blue form descending from above. There was no doubt that the creature was a dragon, the spitting image the medieval tales described.

The whole planet seemed to shake violently when the magnificent being landed, sand flying up around the razor sharp claws as they dug into the ground. A great wind sent the desert into a frenzy as the enormous leathery wings beat at the atmosphere, cooling the air as if to create a refuge of coolness amid the world of the sun.

Two bright, caring silver eyes gazed down at the nearly immobile form as the dragon leaned forward. A feminine voice reached Phil through his haze of disbelief, asking simply "Are you hurt?"

"You could say that." The human admitted, each word causing his throat to seem as though it were coughing up dust. His dry lips cracked under the strain of the syllables and a thin globule of blood dripped among the thirsty grains of sand beneath him, painting a tiny fraction of the desert red.

"How long have you been out here?" she pressed. As she spoke she reached for Phil, cradling his body – remarkably small compared to her length of well over one hundred feet – in her paw.

"A few hours," he replied.

"You're covered in bruises… were you attacked?"

"Thugs," was all he could manage. The dragon merely nodded in reply.

"You're dying." She said, the words ever so ominous as they spilled from the mouth of one so powerful, so wise and knowledgeable. To the dehydrated, helpless youth, they seemed to be his death sentence.

"But," she continued, her gaze flashing with concern and affection "I can save you. I will save you – but, if you want to live, you'll have to trust me."

Stilling up the whole of his remaining energy Phil nodded.

The cool scales shifted as the dragon moved her paw closer to her muzzle. Her breath, unlike that of a normal living creature, was cool as it snaked out across the body of the human. In a matter of moments the steady inhaling and exhaling was all around him as he entered the maw of the dragon, placed ever so gently along a tongue that felt as chilled as the winter wind that spilled over it.

The great dragon wasted no time, leaning her head back and swallowing. The body passed into her throat to form a slight bulge, descending quickly towards the predator's chest where it disappeared.

Before long she felt Phil slip into her stomach, his arrival accompanied by weak squirming. She cringed, knowing he was undoubtedly terrified as, within, the morsel scrambled to his knees.

He lay along what he could only describe as some sort of shoreline. The ground beneath him shifted about ever so slightly and felt cool and comforting to the touch while, just beyond, tiny waves, inspired by the dragon's eternal heart beat, lapped against the stretch of flesh. The rising and falling tides were not of swirling, steaming acid, however, but instead consisted of a substance more treasured throughout the desert than any other: pure, crystal clear water.

The youth fell forward in a gladdened frenzy, cupping his hand to slurp up the treasured liquid. It passed quickly from within the dragon to his own awaiting belly, each sip seemed to refresh and revitalize his entire frame until, after his lengthy drink was finished, he was able rise to his feet.

"Are you feeling better?" the caring voice of the dragon asked, echoing through her insides with all the power of a goddess.

"I am." He assured her. "But who are you? Why do you want to help me?"

"They call me Pearl." She explained. "And, honestly, I couldn't just leave you to die out here…"

"I'm Phil." The boy in her belly said in introduction, patting the side of her stomach in place of a formal handshake. The touch clearly satisfied the dragon and she gave a rumble of pleasure, perhaps a return for his own gesture.

"You were heading to the oasis." She stated solemnly, the landscape around Phil shifting as she settled down amid the dunes outside.

"I was." He confessed.

"It's gone." She relayed simply. "The waters were sacred to dragon kind and yet humans, with their modern greed, took more than they needed to survive. To preserve the holiness of the pool I took it within myself – I do not need to eat and, as such, my stomach is the perfect place to hold the waters."

"It's fine." Her bowels' guest assured her. "It wasn't the place I was looking for, just the water. You really saved me in bringing it here; I wouldn't have made it much further."

"You also probably can't make it back." Pearl reasoned. "But I can fly you towards Cairo – I can get within about an hour of the city without being seen and you can get back to your friends."

"For all they know I'm dead out here." Phil confessed. "It would be just as easy for me to stay with you."

The tone in his voice sank deeper than his body. The dragon squirmed around him in an excited frenzy and, under the earthquake that shook the organic cavern, Phil was thrown back to his knees, splashed by the turbulent waters of the inner oasis.

"You want to stay with me?" she asked, surprise etching itself into the cracks of her melodic voice.

"I hoped you wouldn't mind the company." He admitted sheepishly.

"The desert gets lonely." She said, her words almost poetic as they spilled down her throat to Phil. "Even for something as large as myself the Sahara is a big place. But, with someone else around, it feels a lot smaller, a lot more homely. I can't think of anything I'd want more than to have you beside me.

"But I'm sure you're ready to get back outside. It must be scary trapped inside a dragon." She said sympathetically. "If you'll just walk over to the entrance to my throat-"

Unable to look within herself Pearl missed the grin that splayed itself across Phil's face. He patted the side of her stomach again, making no move to position himself as his savior had suggested.

"Pearl," he said with a chuckle "I guarantee there is no place in the world I'd rather be."