I woke up under a milky way, the moon straight in my line of vision as I opened my eyes and felt the need for water rasp in my dry throat. I clawed through the grass around my sleeping mat, and found my camelbak with a last few drops of liquid. 'If i'm this thirsty, imagine what the horses must feel like, they probably did some Russian shooters of their own' I pondered, as I used my fingers to calculate how much bigger they were than me. After some complicated mathematics, I started saddling up the bigger of the two stallions, while the sun started creeping over the hills in the distance. I galloped in the direction of a small town, and only a few minutes later we splashed into a stream to quench my four-legged companion's thirst. To find drinkable water for the human on top of him, we sneakily stalked a local woman with a jug on a stroller, but got distracted pretty quickly. On our way to the well we came across a wrinkled lady milking her cows in the first light of day. So I asked her if I could have a taste: "I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy and i'm far away from home. Could you spare me some moloko, for a moustace filled with foam?" "Come back after you fill your water skins and jugs" she replied, "and a give you a couple of mugs". Followed by a set of complicated hand gestures and kung fu sounds. Needless to say, I filled my tummy with half an iron bucket of freshly warm milk just a little quicker than my shadow. By 7AM those same shrinking shadows had shown us the way back to the lads. Time to race them to the Kazach border!