This is a "Tasting," a short-short story inspired by a tea I made at my tea company. This particular one is for the "Mojave Outpost," a prickly-pear hibiscus herbal. Normally, I suggest ordering a little bag of the tea to drink while reading the story, but this one's discontinued, so just enjoy this very short-short!

You're wandering the Mojave Desert, glad to see the sun finally dip below the mountains behind you, but already dreading what that represents, the coming night, the freezing dark. Desperately, you search the horizon, hoping to find people, shelter, anything. Thankfully, you find it. Tents on a rise in the distance. You run, elated at the sheer idea of people, relieved to have shelter for the dark night to come.

Cresting the rise, you're met with a series of dilapidated tents torn by sandstorms, their skeletons holding strong with half their original fabric flapping in the breeze. One tent stands, and you rush to it, only to find a bedroll, a duffel bag, a firepit, and a make-shift desk. The firepit is long dead, but is full of perfectly good wood. The desk is full of papers, and the bag contains clothes, a lighter, a ceramic mug, a bag of herbs, a pitcher of water, a large bag of trail mix and two sets of dogtags. After drinking half the pitcher, you set to starting a fire.

After a short eternity, the fire is roaring, smoke is rising through the tent's chimney, and you finally notice the teapot and food pot in the corner of the tent. In no time, the teapot is filled with boiling water and various tart-smelling herbs & spices. The tent quickly fills with a sweet scent that makes your mouth water, and when you can wait no longer, you pour the blood red drink into your mug. The smell of it hits you like a freight train, a sweet, tart fruitiness overwhelming your senses.

You taste it, and instantly your brain is overloaded as you pick apart the flavors: tart hibiscus, sweet floral chamomile, delicately fruity rose hips, and the intensely fruitiness of the sweet, tart prickly pear fruit native to the wastes behind you. Trail mix in one hand, tea in the other, you think to yourself, "You know, maybe the Mojave isn't so bad after all..."