Out under a wide sky, wildebeest drift like water shaping its way downhill. Not maps but need drives them and step following step, drawn by thirst and rising warmth. Over bare ground where gusts carve shifting lines into soil, they keep moving, never still. A beat grows underneath, constant as breathing, set off by storms arriving early or delayed. When distant clouds thicken, their path bends, choices made long before minds catch up.
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