Step after step Horse and I stumbled, the horizon changing only with the sun’s shimmering mirage.  Was this way a mistake?

Yes.

A mistake from the moment he sauntered in with dreams of open land drenched in the dappled sun of summer, and the mistaken words slipping from my mouth that his dreams…of course his dreams were my dreams.  Why would I question?

Now he and his dream lay beneath the brittle stones of the wasteland as we pressed, the dryness of the desert creeping, entwining, embalming us in despair.

His dream?  Only steps away from being my last dream.