Descent, Line, Silently, Bake

For the nth time, the horizon became taller.
There was less of the blue sky, more of the red dirt rising up to meet it and more of the black line that divided his left from his right.
Paces were nearly as short as the laboured breaths he exhaled.
"Keep walking Richard. There's not far to go."
Lucky that voice had come along with him. It was the same voice that had told him he couldn't do it. The same voice he was trying to leave behind when he started walking.
It was his own.
He never remembered the road being so steep or undulating when he'd driven along it all those times. Granted it usually was dark and he was more concerned with the 'load' he was carrying, but it never seemed so steep.
He struggled upwards, his toes scuffing against the bitumen. Ever so gradually the horizon began to level and his steps, whilst stilted were becoming easier.
The red dirt dropped away before him, into a valley of sorts, studded with chiselled rock formations and small, very small tufts of green. His strides became longer and a wave of fresh air rose up along the hillside as he began his descent.
Ahead of him dust blew up and danced towrds him. Enveloped in this dust clous his eyes stung.
"Keep walking Richard."
He rubbed the grit out with the back of his index finger.
The sun screamed silently down at the land, doing it's best to bake all it yelled upon. He knew it wasn't much farther.
He'd be there soon.