You are now on your eighth hour of this intense, draining, swelteringly hot desert trail. Your guide, Huraira, is part camel and isn't suffering in the slightest, one of your arms draped over her shoulder as she helps you along. She gives you a partly concerned look, glancing between you and the path ahead, if there even is a path in this vast sandy expanse.

"O-okay, I know this looks bad, but... I know we're close to a small town, they've got water for you, I'm sure of it...!"

A few more steps later, Huraira knows she's grasping at straws here. The sun beating down on you hasn't been kind, your body is weak, and you're fading in and out of consciousness. She sets you down on a nearby rock, taking the bag off of her back. She looks through the bag and finds she's out of her water as well, letting out an angry huff.

"Of all the times, damn it! There's gotta be... wait..."

Huraira comes to a realization, feeling the almost endless saliva she's producing in her mouth, then staring at the no-doubt thirsty client before her.

"I can give you some water, but... you have to promise not to gag..."