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Glanced at my watch, after rubbing the dirt off of it, and sure enough, it was time for lunch.I stopped the tractor, and then turned it off. Right away the AC stopped in the cab. The rust bucket carefully pulled off of the road and then moved across the field that I was plowing under, towards me. The field was so fucking dry that even as the dust plume that was trailing behind me settled, another came towards me with the oncoming truck. Just barely, through the dust, I could see her waiving at me.Cracking the cab door I was met with the searing dry heat that had settled over us weeks ago. Immediately sweat beaded on my forehead. I stepped out of the cab onto the tire of the tractor and then dropped to the ground, raising another puff of dust.The truck pulled up close, and she smiled as she opened the door. She stepped out. I thought I was dirty! Covered in dust, the woman was wearing a button-down-the-front yellow polka-dot sundress, over her rubber boots, with a floppy hat tied down. Another Borealan paused to meet his gaze, this one was male, about the same height. This one had light skin with dark hair that was cropped short, his eyes a shade of gold, the fur on his forearms and legs the same velvet black. He wore a pair of baggy pants made from a blue, breezy material, perhaps something analogous to cotton. His chest was bare, save for a decorative, crimson sash with golden embroidery that hung across his shoulder.Xhe hurried Dennis along, increasing the pace.“Do not stare, I told you this!”“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, they’re just so ... colorful!”She steered him past vendors and stalls, their occupants shielded from the harsh glare of the twin suns by colorful awnings. Dennis snapped his head back and forth in an attempt to take in every sight and sound, every strange smell that wafted on the air. There were slabs of dripping meat hanging from iron hooks, the scents of street food rising to his nose, strange and enticing. Someone was roasting a six-legged animal.
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