The previous night's ending was nothing special. Once the sun had fallen, the tortoise slipped back into its burrow. The only unusual thing was that in the morning the tortoise found a guest. One of the toads slipped in without it noticing. The toad had not hitchhiked on its back, it would have noticed.

Either it was there from the very beginning or crept in during the night. Both equally terrifying scenarios the tortoise calmly accepted. There was enough space for both of them and this tenant didn't try to force it out. Seeing that the tortoise was up, the toad hopped outside. The tortoise followed closely behind.

No wind yet the darkness afar was not so far. Clouds of pure black hung low in the air and pulsated like tar. Wait, did clouds ever hang this low acting like the land and sky's mar? Clouds they were not; flies they were, swarms and swarms flowing from the earth freely like geysers. Their activity was not volcanic but their effect on the land was just as bad.

Remembering what a group of ants could do and the pain from the bite of a single fly, the tortoise wisely chose to flee. Where to? The only direction it felt was an option, towards the oasis of course. Instinct told it that this situation was safe, experience told it that it would surely die if it stayed. Fleeing carried no risk while staying kept all of the risks lined up.

The toad, on the other hand, did not experience any hardship and followed its instinct. Instinct said that the flies are breakfast. Jumping over, the toad began feasting upon the flies on the ground and nabbing a few flying ones with its tongue. The dominoes had fallen and the toad met its fate.

A counterattack from the flies was swift and brutal. The toad never stood a chance as the flies moved as if they one entity, biting it to death all over its body then consuming its flesh. Nothing but bones were left of the toad after they retreated. Their hunger partially sated, not all chased the tortoise, just a few stragglers.

Hordes of them coated its shell, giving it a pitch black lacquer. A few stragglers managed to do this much. Fortunately, the tortoise was constantly moving, preventing too many of them from going onto its soft parts to give a good bite. Once again, not too many was still a great deal as the tortoise's skin suffered inflammation from constant bites.

Pain everywhere motivated the tortoise to keep going. Survival was not a priority but release from the pain was. Not to the point where the tortoise would willingly keel over to end it all, but enough that it guided it over its will to live.

Stopping the pain could be heavily associated with the will to live. Nonetheless a flawed comparison with all the ways to reduce pain without lowering the body's danger or when pain is present and the body is perfectly safe. Pain is simply an imperfect indicator, one that works out well in most cases.

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As it rushed to the lake, hoping to imitate the time it hid in the water from the ants, the tortoise failed to notice something. One thing is that there actually were a few clouds passing by overhead. Second was that there was no wind whatsoever, with the skies as stagnant as the lake. And finally, the lack of life in the area.

These flies had gone through this area and ravaged several creatures while the plants were shriveling and drying up. While plants were less picky than animals about water sources, a large amount of metal in the water was toxic to everything. The oasis itself was dying, collapsing under its fragile ecosystem. The only reason it wasn't dead yet was due to the hardiness of life here. They adapted to even worse conditions than here and could seemingly take on anything.

At the shores of the lake, there were no toads. The only visible toads were in the center of the lake, idly floating. The water was even redder than before, becoming true blood water rather than just having the appearance as such. A few flies circled the water and landed on these floaters, using them as both sea vessels and food. And as the tortoise slipped into the water, it became another boat for the flies to hang out on.

A strange sensation rocked the tortoise in the water. Relief mixed with irritation. Bloody water rubbed up against the inflamed skin, creating a burning sensation. Yet, the initial pain and itchiness went away. It was better off in the water than outside no matter how unpleasant it was.

One problem the tortoise encountered was its head. The ants got trapped on its back and were unwilling to swim to its head to do damage. Flies did not need to swim to get there. Dunking its head under the water intermediately was the only solution to this problem. Except, it was a tortoise, not a turtle so it couldn't hold its breath for long.

It was lucky it could hold its breath at all. Most animals on land lack that ability and drown very quickly in water. Having the ability to stop breathing at will does not sound like a good idea, especially in a desert where there is not much water. The end result was a cycle of submerging and surfacing, with the occasional bite on the head somewhere when it wasn't fast enough. Even worse was that there was nowhere to run. The flies were everywhere in the oasis, every direction and at every elevation.

Afternoon passed by without much happening. When the tortoise's shell heated up, the flies would simply fly away when they overheated then would land on it again. Another way they were superior to ants in this case. More importantly, they were relentless while the tortoise became more and wearier. Hours passed and the weather cooled. All the warmth of the tortoise's body was drawn out and its movements became sluggish.

Just when it couldn't go on any longer, night fell and the flies left. Unlike the ants that moved about 24/7, the flies had an internal clock and to rest somewhere. The tortoise dragged itself back onto land partially but couldn't muster enough strength.

It was hung out to dry on the banks like the half developed toads from yesterday. Its upper body was safely on the shore while its back legs were submerged in the water along with part of its shell. Here it rested, hoping for a better tomorrow. Being near the lake when the sun rose was in its best interest anyways. The flies would be back in the morning.