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“Dehydrated Water will be the next craze. Just add water.”
― Anthony T. HIncks, Anthony T. Hincks: An author of life, Volume 1

“Cassian was halfway up the dried riverbed when stones crunched and clacked behind him.

He whirled to find Nesta facedown. Not moving.

He swore, rushing down the stony path, and slid to his knees before her. The sharp stones bit his legs through his pants, but he didn't care, not as he turned her over, his heart thundering.

She'd fainted. His relief was a primal thing in him, settling, but-

He hadn't looked back at her in hours. Filmy white crusted her lips; her skin was flushed and sweaty. He grabbed for the canteen at his belt, unscrewing the cap, and pulled her head into his lap. 'Drink,' he ordered, opening her mouth for her, his blood roaring in his ears.

Nesta stirred, but didn't fight him when he poured a little water down her throat. It was enough to have her opening her eyes. They were glazed.

Cassian demanded, 'When was the last time you had water?'

Her eyes sharpened. The first time she'd really looked at him in three solid days. But she only took the canteen and drank deep, draining it.

When she'd finished, she groaned, pushing herself from his lap, but only onto her side.

He snapped, 'You should have been drinking water throughout the day.'

She stared at the rocks around them.

He couldn't stand that look- the vacancy, the indifference, as if she no longer really cared whether she lived or died here in the wild.

His stomach twisted. Instinct bellowed at him to wrap himself around her, to comfort and soothe, but another voice, an ancient and wise voice, whispered to keep going. One more mountain, that voice said. Just one more mountain.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Denial of drinking water by police officers to dehydrated prisoners is a human rights abuse.”
― Steven Magee