by Marcus Jonathan Chapman
They walked through the sandy valleys and climbed the rocks that made up the natural border between the lives they knew and uncertainty. Wearing goggles to keep out the sand and long red robes, wrapped around their bodies to protect them from the sun, they walked.
Smoan had made the trip hundreds of times. From the satellites shining in the sky, the group made their way through the terrain in a smooth, continuous movement.
Looking back at his tired companions, Smoan hoped they would not have to make a return trip. Those he preferred to make alone. Though long, he was able to make his way swiftly home while thinking about the lives of those he guided, having found the land where they would make their new starts.
They reached the final hill before the bounty hunters, dogs and flood lights. The most dangerous 2000 yards.