Who's the boss?

Ghosting around the high, shifting dunes, the two walked in a shimmering land of fire. Silent and reflective, their tracks disappeared from the sand. Erased by the low wind gusting across the desert; distance deceived and water was scarce, this land didn't forgive the foolish.

Plodding along, beneath an unforgiving sun, he regarded his traveling companion, a bundle of rags, topped with a wrap of cloth. Two brown eyes, like rusting steel, gazed back out of a face made of tanned leather. Babbling in a language unknown, his leather faced companion waved a stick around his head; letting loose a piercing whistle between the gaps in his crooked teeth.

It'd been like this since his youth, him and his mad friend wandering the dunes. He felt a tinge of sorrow for the poor creature. Scrawny and weak of limb; the thing's endless journey across the hot sands must have been torture. By night the cold of the cloudless sky, bedecked with stars, must have froze the wretched things bones.

His shadow lengthened in the setting sun, throwing his comrade into its shade. The whistling stopped. "Oh he's tired, time to rest up for the night". Settling down on his side, he watched his unfortunate charge light a tiny fire to brew his tea. Feeling drowsy, he slipped into a dreamless sleep. As the stars wheeled above.

A sharp crack to his backside shocked him from his rest, the little thing babbled and whistled again. He'd quite a temper in the morning, for a small creature.
" Get up you ungainly beast, get up."
Here we go again,another day listening to this madness." Who'd be a camel?" he thought.