First Scratching

He was digging into the hard warm sand. Like a dog, kneeling over the small hole he was making. The surface was hard to break. It was compact and well beaten. Once he had got past the crust the undersand was easier. Not that it needed to be, his arm muscles were well developed. The hole was getting deeper with the time that past but it was becoming harder to keep up the pace. He frowned. The width of the hole was wrong. He widened it. He found the sand pile next to the hole was in the way so he moved it and widened the hole more.



The wind picked up some sand from the edge of the hole and blew it in his face.