He grunts, anguished by the sun. His eyes, vacant of any thought, show only determination. He moves forcefully. The sun's rays, intensified by the desert sands, mercilessly hammer his neck. His skin aches for shade. But he ignores both and moves on.
Incredibly, the implacable sun above him is not his biggest woe. The stinking, rebellious herd of livestock cause him the most grief. The herd, sadly his only company, disobeys his every command. That is the worst part about his miserable existence; dumb animals mock him without end.
But that is his way of life. He knows he will be able to get by if he keeps moving the herd. Still, he dreams of those living in wondrous cities and sighs. He is rudely interrupted from his thoughts when one of his sharp-toothed animals bites his hand. He keeps going.
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