Cactus, 1st POV
My legs were sputtering, giving out. The gears turning, and clicking. I was going to find Sophie. It felt as if I was running hours, running in circles. The moon was still on my trail. And then I stopped. My feet gave out. My flannel shirt stuck to my skin. I slide back to the roots of a tree, opening up my bag. I grabbed the musky canteen and gurgled what was left. My greasy hair hung in my face. Then my gears, turning, smoking from work,
gave out.