The cold, dry Martian air sucked the moisture irresistibly through the skin and suits. As the day slid slowly by, the ever near horizon stayed practically featureless. The red sand bored like Callisto hornets into the skin.
Lips began to crack. Twice they stopped to sip the water. The second time, Rick looked at her. "How the devil do you know where we are?"
"Maybe I don't," she taunted.
"You'd better. We've no way of checking on you. But if you double-cross me, I'll strip your clothes off and leave you to the first Sand Vulture that comes along. Understand?"
"Don't worry," she answered, "I know the way. I've covered it often enough. There are many little landmarks if you know what to look for."
When evening came, Rick let each of them barely wet their lips. Then he said, "I need sleep and I can't trust anyone. So I'm going to hide the water in the desert. If anything happens to me, you'll all die of thirst. Now turn your backs."
Leeda heard him scramble off. He soon returned. "Now let's sleep."
The below-zero cold of the Martian night challenged the thermo-unit of Leeda's desert suit until she lay shivering. But, worn out from the walk and the emotional events of the day, she finally dropped off to sleep.
It was still dark when she awoke. Deliberately making a noise, she listened for someone to challenge her. When no one moved, she slipped off into the desert.