In the sand a small beetle dug and dug, but the predator desert mouse still found him faster than his claws could move.
High above in the lone tree in this part of the desert Ashmit sat on a small folding chair. He wore his balaclava tight around his face, a long thin shirt covering up to his wrists, and his ak-47 slung loosely around his back. His cargo pants were worn but still holding up. One interior pocket held an extra set of ammo, the other a small pear. It was ripe but he was saving it for after pick up. He could see the dust miles away. But the desert played tricks on his eyes. He looked to the sun but wasn’t quite sure of the time. Soon his shift would be over. Another would take his place for 24 hours. And he would rest for seven days. And then return. To guard this tree in the desert. No one knew why anymore? It was something the elders had done. And so they did it again. No one ever attacked the tree, its roots thick into the ground sourcing water from deep deep below in the old land. Surviving. Much like Ashmit. He counted himself lucky to be one of the seven guards. They lived lifes of somewhat comfort in the village. When one died others clamorred for their spot. Each guard was afforded their own bed, and a clean shower after each return. A benefit that many would die for. 
But it had its drawbacks as well. No guard was allowed to marry. Often he sat here thinking of  Meera, a girl from his youth. He fantasized about her long brown hair, and a night they had played cards for hours, watching the sun come up.
He walked to the canteen he had brought on shift change and poured a cup, dropping a few tea leaves into it. The sun would brew the tea quickly, the heat here natural and radiant.
The dust cloud grew closer. Ashmit sipped his tea. Dipak would be here soon. He didn’t particularly like the man, his jokes crude and his beard unkempt. But he smiled without doubt at the exchange once every seven days, his duty done.
Until next week, to guard a tree. No one knew why. But it was a noble enough endeavor.