In the morning, the flies were no more. Dispersed they had, returned not. The tortoise remained on the shoreline with barely an ounce of strength. It was awake at this point, lacking the motivation to do anything. Thirst, a strong desire for water raged in its body. Ironically, water was all around, none being drinkable. The bloodwater sipped at its legs, thirstily draining moisture from its body and the legs were visibly shriveled.

Although the flies weren't around, the tortoise wasn't alone. Two vultures were perched upon the nearby tree, seemingly disinterested with the tortoise. They had already filled up on something else beforehand. Funnily enough, there appeared to be less of them.

A fox came into sight on the other side of the lake. It tried to take a drink only to spit the water out. The fox would have to find another outlet to quench its thirst. Spotting the tortoise, it walked around the edge of the lake to check it out. The tortoise lifted up its head and stared at this fox, never letting this dangerous predator out of site. Not like it could do anything else.

The fox came before it and moved closer to sniff it. In a desperate last attempt to scare the fox off, it dug into its reserves and shot out its head to bite the fox's curious nose. Unfortunately, the fox had good reflexes, jumping a meter back to avoid the bite completely.

Counterattack or give up? Those were the options the fox had, and it chose to do neither and just stare at the tortoise. It circled to the left and to the right, looking for an opening. The tortoise's head was glued to the fox's movements. There was no way of getting behind it with the water.

After a minute or two, the fox finally lost interest and wandered off. The direction it went was towards the tortoise's burrow, lowering its already sunk motivation to leave the water. Where else was there to go if not home? Off into the wastes?

Both the sun and heat rose sky high. The excess energy given off by this glorified ball of flames gave the tortoise a minor boost. With this, the tortoise could leave the water, but did it want to. Surely it'd be fine to stay like that for a few more minutes to beat the heat. Those minutes would simply stretch into hours and then days. Would it ever leave if it didn't now?

The answer to that would never be known as the tortoise slipped out of the water. Once on dry land, the tortoise's back legs gave out. They were dry and wrinkly from being in the water for far too long. Another hour was spent resting in the hot air. Any dampness from being in water evaporated from the get go and the dryness intensified the tortoise's thirst.

It set out, hoping to find a cactus, instead finding something far worse. Flies everywhere, it walked straight into the area where they had gone to. Hills and valleys filled to the brim with tiny black insects. Only death awaited here.

That is, for the flies. All of them were dead and their corpses littered the ground. Flies had short lifespans and the oasis was unable to support all these flies. Dehydration, starvation, cold night air, wind carrying them afar, predators picking off any stragglers, old age, etc. They had died as quickly as they came. Their goals were achieved in the brevity of their existence.

Maggots, hundreds of them had eaten their fill and dug into their earth, awaiting the right time to come back as flies. Some of these maggots were mixed in with the corpses, making this area both a graveyard and a nursery. Life of all sorts flocked to this area to feast upon the fallen.

A swarm of ants slowly dragged flies double their size with ease along a smooth and precise supply line. A few surviving toads hopped around looking for some morsels, fancying the delicacies that were still wriggling like maggots and half-dead flies. A few odd scorpions hung around the outskirts, picking up flies with their pincers and tearing them to shreds with their mandibles. A feeding frenzy for all kinds of creatures, with the tortoise as the odd one out.

Rejecting the flies even though it could eat them, the tortoise went to a nearby cactus instead. With how much cacti it was eating, its diet was imbalanced but all too necessary with the water inside the cactus flesh. A precious commodity water was one that it had access to even with the lake contaminated. As long as the cacti stood, the tortoise could get through this hard time.

After polishing off the last of the cactus, it took one last look at the ongoing feast of the flies before heading back to its cozy hole in the ground. The reason being is that even the fox showed up and began munching on the flies, meaning the way back was now clear.

The trip back was unexciting. There were no neighbors in the hole nor was it suddenly filled in from strong winds pushing dirt into it. It was just there as if it'd always be there, welcoming the tortoise's return silently. There was still some daylight left but the tortoise did not want to do anything, the fangs of fatigue left their mark on it and it turned in for the night.