On that day, the sun had already covered the vast, water-scarce steppe with a heavy, scorching blanket of thousands of bright, blinding rays since early morning. In the midday silence, Altyn and Badma, cousins, were slowly walking along the bumpy, dirt road, suffering from the scorching heat and exhaustion. The boys' lips were pale. Their T-shirts were stained with dried sweat, and their dusty feet dragged behind them.

"Do you think we're still far away?" asked Altyn, a tall and lean man, turning to his brother.

"Actually, if you remember, it was your idea to take a shortcut to the village instead of waiting for the bus. You should know how much farther we have to go!" replied Badma wearily. Altyn's face contorted in frustration. He had only traveled this road once before, a couple of years ago, with his mother and some of the villagers. At the time, the journey seemed quite short.

Altyn wanted to spit on the ground, but he couldn't. His throat was dry. He looked down at his plastic sneakers. They had been brought back from the army by Ceren, Altyn's older brother, and had once been green, but now they were brown from the dirt. Altyn didn't particularly enjoy walking, but he persuaded Badma to accompany him to their village because he was very hungry. A black-winged eagle soared high in the sky above them, and its pale shadow briefly skimmed the ground and the brothers' heads.

"Maybe I don't have any water left in me," Altyn thought strangely, "if Badma and I fall dead here, even that eagle probably won't bother to peck at our bodies because they'll be so dry." The brother was silent, sometimes limping on his left leg.

"I shouldn't have refused to have a bite to eat in town," Altyn said softly, licking his lips, "I might have found it easier to walk now!" Grasshoppers were grumbling in the withered grass, among the yellowed quinoa and bluish-gray wormwood. From time to time, some of them would jump out and fly far ahead.

"Let's go back," Altyn suggested, stopping, "we'll wait at the bus stop!"

"Are you kidding me, Altyn?" - rubbing his eyes, Badma said, - we have already come so far. I don't want to go back.

"But I can't take it anymore!"

- What class are you in? Badma asked, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. A cloud of dust rose far away on the horizon. A car was on its way to meet the boys.

"You know that! In the sixth," Altyn replied a little irritably, "why are you asking?"

- And I'm in the seventh grade, which means I'm a year older than you! So now I'm the one who's deciding what we're going to do. And if anything happens to you, my aunt will kill me. So don't argue with me!

The car was approaching rapidly, cutting through the hot, steppe air with great speed. It stopped two meters away from the brothers.

- Hello, boys! - said a strange man with a thin mustache and a face that was deeply tanned, - do you need a ride? Father often told Badma about the dangers of talking to strangers. Altyn looked at his brother with joyful hope. Badma was wary of the offer of a ride, especially since the car was heading in the opposite direction from the village where the boys were going. The car smelled of manure and sheep.

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