The night air in the Chilean Atacama desert is surprisingly cold. Walking out of the copper-colored adobe house I can see my breath as white clouds escaping my lips begging for peace in the black night. The stars are abundant, but are not as bright as I’m used to for a desert town.

“Isn’t it too late for a young woman to be walking alone? There aren’t any street lights,” the new hostel guest whose name I can’t remember chimes in. She’s from Switzerland or Sweden. Or was it Canada?

“You wanna come with me?” I ask. Her pink-sandaled feet seem glued to the front door. “The town square is only a fifteen-minute walk.”

“What about all of the stray dogs that roam at night?”

I shrug. My stomach growls answering for me.

“Um, I’m too tired from today’s dune hike, but take this.” She gives me a small pink flashlight that she takes out of her powder pink jumpsuit.

“Thanks,” I say and continue my walk toward the town.

The flashlight is small, but mighty. With it, I see a stream lined with hundreds of bright purple wildflowers at the water’s edge.

I hear the water flowing, the sound of my own footsteps and then—a scream.

“What the—“

My heart is races. Maybe I should have listened to pink back at the hostel. I look around and am relieved not to see anyone. Do I walk back to the hostel and die of hunger or do I keep walking to the town and die of dying?

Decisions, decisions.

And then another scream. This time followed by growling. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Heck, even my carefully laid out baby hairs are standing on edge by now.

I wave my flashlight all around. And then I see him.