"Don't stop if you die we lose our supplies!!" the skinny guy shouted as he speared the group.
The words didn't just cut through the night, they shoved everyone forward like a hand on the back. The oasis was already shrinking behind them, swallowed by dark and distance, and the comfort it had offered felt like a cruel joke now that Garron's corpse was cooling under a palm tree. The sand had that dry, whispering sound underfoot, the kind that made every step feel like it was being erased the moment it was made.
"Worry about yourself," the Old man said as he rushed up ahead.
He pushed himself into the lead like he could outrun consequence. His silhouette was a crooked spearpoint against the dim horizon, shoulders jerking with every breath. He kept glancing back, and every time his head snapped around, Kael saw the flicker of panic in the movement, the way fear made his spine stiff and his gait ugly.
