“Ok, ok… But I have a shy bladder, you have to look away.” – Tom explains as he blushes a bright red.
“The gringo, he can’t pee while we watch.” Maria translates for Jose, giggling.

For a moment, the trio stands awkwardly on the path, the sun is nearly gone. In twilight, the shadows lengthen. The young girl and older mexican man politely avert their gaze as Tom unzips his fly. After a few seconds there is still no trickle, Tom uncaps his canteen and pours a thin stream of water out hoping the sound will prime his plumbing.
“What are you doing!” Maria yells. “That’s all the water we have!”
“DON’T LOOK!”, the meager stream Tom has coaxed, wavers but does not stop.

Jose whistles sharply, and Maria tenses. Both draw pistols.
“Hurry, gringo…”, Jose whispers.
To either side of them, several sets of pale eyes emerge, unblinking. Glowing from deep in the shadows.

“Have they been there the entire time?”
Maria quietly nods. “They’ve been following us since we left the safety of the cantina.”