[5: Wind.]

Rory woke from his sleep with the sun, light pouring in through the nylon
sides, and immediately, the heat was nearly unbearable.

He unzipped the opening to see where his friends had left him.

They'd tired of their usual games, scavenger hunts through every landscape
they could find, and now they were on to something new.

He'd arrived, blindfolded, in the middle of the night. His friends had led
him to the tent, bed already made, and ushered him in.  He recognized the
sand under his feet, that much was familiar from last night.

He looked around. The canyon walls were high above, and the little tent was
set in just such a spot that the sun would wake him early -- twenty feet to
either side, and the sunrise would have been a much more distant event.

The wind had sculpted this little pocket of rock into twists and whorls,
leaving an arch of rock at one end of the little canyon, and sculpted stones
and hollows through the rest.

He reached into the tent and found the pack they'd left him.

There was a note. 

	"Rory. Found a good spot for you. Meet us back at the van by two, or
the beer's on you.

	Greg and Charlie."

He reached in and found the GPS, and flipped it on. 

"Rats".

No signal. The guys were clever this time. Greg had made it back to the van
in no time since he'd memorized much of the area before he left, and had the
GPS with him. They'd voted to to drop the GPS next round, but this time,
they'd found a loophole. Clever jerks.