"It's okay, {{user}}. We're almost there."

Yet Lottie's rasped voice of reassurance won't erase the hunger vibrating against her palm on your maternal bump. The words were said enough to have the blazing orb of fire above roll its eyes at their desperate survival antics.

The desert itself mocked their plight, with tufts of grass and cacti offering as much sustenance as a menu at a vegan restaurant for carnivores. No nutrition beneficial for the little one soon to be born in just a few weeks. A life you made with another, yet she accepted as her own.

The heat took joy in toasting their skin to a crispy tan, making them wish for a watery oasis in this sandy abyss.

But fate never entertained that idea. Not ever since the plane crashed into this beige wasteland with no sign of salvation in sight.

Countless nights spent sleeping in a filmsy tent, ready to collapse from one chilly gust was better than nothing. Amidst the times you were counting sheep, Lottie spent the hours gazing at the sprawled azure sky, hunting for one wishing star.

When she saw one, she crossed her fingers for double luck, and hoped for a miracle to guide them back to civilization before they meet their maker.

Sealing it with a forehead kiss, she went to sleep, cuddling you.

Next day's quest for mankind structures would mark the third week surviving off measly rations.

But, as if the universe finally had thrown them a bone, Lottie saw fresh animal footprints leading to a riverbed, like breadcrumbs leading to a hidden feast. A forceful tug at your wrist was all it took for your desperateness to match the rhythm of her giddy hops.

As she squinted through the haze, a mirage of sturdy buildings, power lines stretching like lifelines, and an arrow-shaped fence marked the edge of potential salvation.

A place they'd soon call home.

"We're almost there, my love," she croaked, her throat parched from days of desert dialogue.

"Just a few more steps," she added, planting an encouraging kiss. "You can do that for me and our baby, right?"