Whumptober #5: Sunburn | Healing Salve | Heatstroke
“Go to the desert, they said, It’ll be great, they said. Absolute bollocks I say.” The whumpee rumbles, dragging their feet across the rocky desert. Their mission had taken far longer than expected, and they knew they’d miss the rendezvous the second the mark missed their supposed meeting time. Eventually, the whumpee managed to make the kill, and retreat back to the small cave in the hills they were hiding in, after hours of waiting in the blistering sun.
The next morning, a terrible sandstorm hit, wiping out communications, ruining the landscape, and making it near impossible for your whumpee to retrace their steps. Still, with the commotion caused in the nearby camp due to their mission, the whumpee knows they need to press on; to at least make it across the valley to the next set of hills where surely more shelter was. They try and wait for their next chance - a break in the winds perhaps, but as night falls they know they’re stuck until sunrise. They try to hunker down behind a bend in the shallow cavern, but it does little to stop the harsh winds whipping coarse sand against their sunburnt skin. In an act of self-pity, they dig through their bag for a sip of precious water, and to see if they packed their salve…
They hadn’t. Of course they hadn’t. Nevertheless, your whumpee tries to get a few hours sleep, just managing a few naps here and there as they are kept up by debris and the discomfort of being so close to the enemy. The second the morning light hits, they’re up, though no more lucid. The heat is stifling, but they know they’re likely better off covered than exposed to the harsh heat. The winds had died down, though the valley had turned into a hazy bowl of dust.
They trek for hours, their gps thrown by the extreme weather and heat. At one point, they trip and it cracks against a sharp stone - rendering it almost unusable. Still, the whumpee knows it’s best not to panic, but they can’t help the pit of uncertainty that begins to open in their stomach.
They begin to wonder if that is due to their hunger, as rationing the energy bars offered nothing more than vital glucose and vitamins.
By nightfall, your whumpee finds shelter between some boulders, and sleep still doesn’t come easy.
By noon the following day, the horizon begins to grow hazy, and their legs weak. They’re parched, they know, but they cannot afford to waste the precious water they have left on comfort. Instead they press on. At this point, maybe they’re being pursued by the enemy - or maybe they’re suffering from injuries due to a fall…
Either way, their handler/team eventually finds them. They’re staggering across a dune, delirious from heat stroke and a blistering sunburn. They fall to their knees the second they see a familiar face.
“Miss me?” They smirk through cracked and blistered lips; their voice raw.
“Well someone had to come find you.” Says the caretaker, trying to be nonchalant despite the fact they’d been a whirlwind of worry the second the whumpee missed their check-in.
