The Arizona sky was a watercolor bleeding from orange to red to blue as the sun set on the desert. The formations towered, great edifices carved by wind, time, and dust that seemed to hang over the rocky floor. Saguaros kept a thorny watch over the place as night encroached further upon the desert, the wind gently picking up grains of sand and rock to fling about, not a single thing to truly break its passage. The wind, a great sculptor, was merely picking up its tools to form another masterpiece somewhere else while the desert came alive. Foxes crept between the shrubs that managed to eke out some water from the pitiless ground, and the mice were likewise meek to avoid detection from their hard-working nemesis. Shadows were cast long after the sun went down as the moon took its place, the monument of cliffs casting a long, dark shade which cooled everything it touched.