As you are strolling along in a hot desert town, not bothering to wipe the perspiration from your brow because its immediately evaporated, you hear a clink.
Looking down at your foot you notice a bottle.
Empty? No, surprisingly- although it does simply look like rubbish.
Curious, or environmentally conscious, you pick it up, pulling out the cork and squinting at its sand-blasted glass.
Theres a message inside, on a small piece of crackly, dry parchment, in shaky, hurried scrawl.
Tailynn and I have been taken captive made some new friends who we're staying with.
Its very hot. Very dry. Not much water.
The ship can somehow glide accross the burning windswept sanddunes as if they were water though They have a very interesting means of transport.
I'm very thirsty.
Tailynn is adjusting to the hard work, dryness and slave labour slightly better than me having a lot of fun.
I'm scared we'll be stuck here forever not sure when we'll get around to seeing you, mum.