We were still far from Villamayor de Monjardin when we spotted the steeple of the town church. We made it our goal. It provided a visual object we could aim for. It became a talisman that kept us moving as invisible flames blew around and through us and pushed us toward the shade as they dried our throats and made our water as hot as soup. They stripped the water from our bodies. I have no idea how we made it. And to my surprise, Michele was there when we arrived.