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She
looked
out
at
the
Arrakeen
sunset
,
at
the
banked
decks
of
color
in
the
sky
.
Night
was
beginning
to
utter
its
shadows
along
the
distant
rocks
and
the
dunes
.
Yet
the
heat
persisted
.
Heat
forced
her
thoughts
onto
water
and
the
observed
fact
that
this
whole
people
could
be
trained
to
be
thirsty
only
at
given
times
.
Thirst
.
She
could
remember
moonlit
waves
on
Caladan
throwing
white
robes
over
rocks
.
.
.
and
the
wind
heavy
with
dampness
.
Now
the
breeze
that
fingered
her
robes
seared
the
patches
of
exposed
skin
at
cheeks
and
forehead
.
The
new
nose
plugs
irritated
her
,
and
she
found
herself
overly
conscious
of
the
tube
that
trailed
down
across
her
face
into
the
suit
,
recovering
her
breath
’
s
moisture
.
The
suit
itself
was
a
sweatbox
.
“
Your
suit
will
be
more
comfortable
when
you
’
ve
adjusted
to
a
lower
water
content
in
your
body
,
”
Stillgar
had
said
.
She
knew
he
was
right
,
but
the
knowledge
made
this
moment
no
more
comfortable
.
The
unconscious
preoccupation
with
water
here
weighed
on
her
mind
.
No
,
she
corrected
herself
:
it
was
preoccupation
with
moisture
.
And
that
was
a
more
subtle
and
profound
matter
.
She
heard
approaching
footsteps
,
turned
to
see
Paul
come
out
of
the
cave
’
s
depths
trailed
by
the
elfin
-
faced
Chani
.
