"What the fuck is that!" a man suddenly screamed, his voice cracking as he pointed to the east.
Heads snapped in the direction he indicated.
A cloud of dust rose over the golden dunes, moving unnaturally fast—like a storm sprinting across the desert.
The sheer speed with which it advanced turned every spine cold. Even the scorching heat of the sun couldn't warm the creeping dread that settled over the caravan.
Leader Peng's throat turned dry as sand. His lips trembled as he stared at the billowing dust cloud approaching.
The sensation was like a cold dagger pressing against his chest. That wasn't the wind. That wasn't a mirage.
It was death.
From the other carriage, Leader Shi froze. The blood drained from his face as realization struck him like a whip.
How? How could this be?
They had followed every precaution, acted swiftly, even changed routes per the strategy. Everything had gone according to plan.
How had the Desert Scorpions still found them?
