I walked the forest, trying to retain any sense of hope amid the blatant signs of death.  The river that no longer reaches its end, the lake with a shore twice as long as it had been in the past, the mounds of dead and decaying plants and animals, all dying of thirst and hunger.  I think of the my village, facing the exact same problems.  As one of the only ones left strong enough to hunt and retrieve what little water from the creek that is left I feel more than ever the stress of providing for my family.  My baby brother barely moves ever since the sickness set in.  Already weak as a young child, being deprived of food and water has only worsened his condition.  This does not bode well for my mother's health either.  I can feel her depression deepening every day her youngest child struggles to survive.  What my mother doesn't know is I have been rationing myself so my brother and my mother can eat and drink more.  Every family feels the same pain I do, those that remain anyway.  Ever since the drought started two years ago, ever since the crops died and the heat continued to beat upon our home, more and more families have left in the hope of finding a new home with adequate supply of that which they need to live.  I've been away from home for three days now.  Each time I have left in search of food and water, I have ventured further and further from the village, desperate to discover any source of life that has previously eluded me on my quest for life giving water.  But my food reserves are dwindling, if I do not find something by tomorrow evening, I must turn back and return home to the village and my family empty handed.
Deep in my thoughts, I had not realized the sun sinking lower on the horizon between the trees half green, half dead.  It's time to start looking for shelter, I realize.  As I start scanning the surrounded forest for a place to camp for the night, I take out my water pouch to take a drink to moisten my parched throat; however, I am horrified to discover that my water skin is nearly empty.  Frantically, I search the pouch for an explanation and am stunned to find a small hole where water has been leaking out.  All remaining hope for exploring new areas this trip to find water is gone.  I have to turn back immediately in the morning just to make the trip home.  Luckily, I notice a small rock overhang under which I can sleep tonight.  I would light a fire but nowadays fire is unstoppable in the world of dry fuel in which I live.  As I lie down a bed of dry, crackly leaves and wrap myself in my cloak.  I start drifting off to sleep but in my daze I am puzzled by the complete silence.  It unnerves me.  Then I remember the forest has become more and more quiet as the drought has sucked all life from the shadowy depths of the trees.  Despite my attempts to not think about it and to get the rest I so desperately need, the thought of returning home in the morning with nothing to show for my journey consumes me.  The rest of the night passes in a restless, semiconscious nightmare.  In my anxiety, I failed to comprehend the cold wind the began to blow in early morning.
I woke as the first of the sun's rays fell upon my face.  I did not rest well, but its time to return home.  I set out after a small breakfast of dried beef and a few measly berries I managed to scavenged from a nearby bush.  The next three days pass in a blur.  All the while the wind intensifies with each day.  On the final leg of my journey, I reach the top of a hill from which I can see the thatched roofs of our villages' cottages.  Before I descend the hill, I look back one more time to the place in which I had hoped to find something.  To my amazement, the mother of all storms had been gathering behind me.  I had not noticed the continual darkening of the land in my exhaustion.  I can even see the droplets of rain advancing from here.  I sprint for home so I can bring the good news to the villagers who spend most days indoors now.  The storm outruns me.  I become pelted with rain drops the size of my fist as I reach the outskirts of the village.  The sound of thunder deafens me.  I can see the astonishment on the faces of my fellow villagers as they emerge from the homes. I begin to laugh, and then cry as the impact of this storms is fully comprehended by my sleep deprived mind.  At least for the near future, we will have water, and water is life. 
The storm lasted for three days and in all sixteen years of my life, I have never wanted something to continue as much as I desired that storm to never run out of rain.  To my continued pleasure, storm after storm followed in the coming month.  I began the see life returning to the now overflowing river and lake.  The forest began to teem with life again and everything was a most vibrant green.  And as the forest was resurrected,  so was my village, my home.