The sun had just begun to rise, casting long shadows across the sand, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. The air was still cold, the desert's chill clinging to the earth even though the heat would soon return. Levi could feel it in his bones—the weight of the desert that had been with them every step of the way. It had been a long, grueling night, and now, with the first rays of sunlight, they had no choice but to keep moving.
Levi stood by the mouth of the cave, eyes scanning the horizon as the wind picked up, swirling grains of sand through the air. He wasn't sure if he was ready to leave the relative safety of the cave, but he didn't have a choice. They were running out of time. Sera needed to be moved. And there was no guarantee that another night in the desert would spare her from the heat.
His mother, crouched beside Sera, gently wiped the sweat from her face. The girl's body was still warm, feverish, and her breathing shallow. But she was alive. For now, that was enough.
"We need to move her," his mother said quietly, as she adjusted the blanket around Sera, preparing to lift her.
Levi nodded, his throat tight. He stepped closer, instinctively reaching for Sera's arm. She was so light, almost fragile in his hands. It felt wrong, seeing her so still, so weak. The fire in her that had kept her fighting, kept her alive, was barely a flicker now.
His mother looked up at him, eyes steady despite the exhaustion that clung to her like a shadow. "Stay close to her. She might wake up at any moment, and we can't risk her getting disoriented."
Levi nodded again, this time more forcefully. He hadn't thought about that—the fact that Sera could wake up, confused, maybe even disoriented by the desert's vast emptiness. It was hard to picture her like that—the same girl who had been so fiery, so full of life and rebellion, now lying so still. He hated it.
The younger Sandwalker approached then, his face unreadable as always, though his eyes softened slightly as he observed the scene. He moved toward them, offering his help, though it was clear from the way he moved that he wasn't much for speaking. Levi could see the strength in his movements, the precision in his every action. The Sandwalkers didn't seem to need words, not when their bodies communicated so clearly.
Together, they carefully lifted Sera. Her weight felt heavier now, like a burden Levi wasn't sure he could bear. His arms were trembling by the time they settled her onto the camel's back, but his mother was already preparing the rest of their supplies—water, the few dried rations they had left.
Sera shifted slightly, her face crumpling as though she was caught between sleep and waking, a low moan escaping her lips. Levi's heart skipped. Was she waking? But her eyes remained closed, her breath still ragged.
"Stay with her," his mother said, voice soft but firm. She looked at him for a moment longer, as if checking for any sign of doubt.
Levi nodded, feeling the weight of it settle over him. He had to keep her alive. He had to keep them both safe, no matter what. There was no turning back now.
The older Sandwalker glanced at the group, nodding once as if giving silent approval. The younger Sandwalker remained silent, his gaze flitting between the camel and Levi, before turning to their mother.
"It's not far," the younger man said, his voice low, almost a murmur against the growing wind. "We'll need to move quickly."
Levi's eyes flicked to the horizon. The sun was still rising, but the heat of the desert was already starting to creep in, the dry air pressing against his skin, suffocating.
"We will," Levi said, his voice hardening, the words coming more easily now. "We'll keep moving."
The Sandwalkers made their way toward the camels, each of them carefully preparing for the journey ahead. Levi stood for a moment longer, watching Sera's shallow breaths, the weight of responsibility pressing on him like never before.
Levi shifted uneasily as they prepared to move out. The sun was climbing higher now, and the heat from the desert seemed to press in on him from all sides. He couldn't help but feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibility, the fear, and the throbbing pain in his back that still hadn't dulled. The lash marks were raw and tender, the skin stretched tight and still stinging from the whippings he had gotten from the slave traders the day he stood up trying to defend his mother.
The Sandwalkers had already mounted their camels with ease, their movements smooth and practiced. Levi, however, stood at the side of the animal that was supposed to carry him. He had never ridden a camel before—hadn't even seen one up close until now—and the thought of trying to ride it with Sera on the other side was more than a little daunting.
His mother, noticing his hesitation, looked at him with a sharp eye, but said nothing. She simply moved over to the camel, lifting Sera gently and securing her with the blankets. Levi swallowed hard. He knew he needed to get on that camel, but the idea of the unfamiliar saddle, the towering beast, and the constant jostling made his stomach churn.
"You'll be fine," his mother's voice was low, steady, as if she could sense his discomfort without looking at him. She helped settle Sera before turning back to him. "Keep the reins loose, hold on tight. You'll get the hang of it."
Levi nodded but didn't reply. His fingers were still gripping the edge of the camel's saddle like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. The leather was rough under his touch, and the camel let out a low, irritated grunt as it shifted its weight. Levi hesitated. The sun felt hotter now, more oppressive. He could feel the sweat trickling down the side of his neck, mixing with the dust that clung to his skin.
The older Sandwalker—one who had guided them through the desert and already seemed so comfortable on his camel—shot him a glance, his face unreadable. "Don't overthink it," he said, his voice as dry as the desert air. "Just get on."
Levi let out a breath and pushed himself forward, gripping the saddle and trying to swing his leg over the camel's back. As he did, the animal shifted under him, and the movement threw him off balance. His heart skipped a beat as he desperately tried to regain his footing, his back protesting sharply, the wound there flaring up again.
"Ah!" Levi gritted his teeth as he slid down, his legs tangled with the saddle for a moment. He managed to scramble back up, though his hands were slick with sweat, and his back felt like it might crack open under the strain.
His mother turned, brow furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Fine," Levi muttered, though his voice didn't carry the usual confidence. He was far from fine. The pain from the whip's scars was nothing compared to the strain of trying to balance on a camel that felt like it could throw him off at any second.
With a final, deep breath, he managed to adjust himself on the camel. The swaying of the beast beneath him was unsettling, but he tightened his grip on the reins, forcing his body to stay upright.
"You're doing fine," his mother reassured him from the side. She was already on her camel, checking the position of Sera as they prepared to leave. "Focus on the movement. Let the camel guide you."
Levi nodded, his jaw set, though his thoughts were still jumbled. There were too many things to think about. Too many things to be afraid of. But the most important thing was still Sera. He needed to get her out of here, needed to make sure she stayed alive long enough to find help.
The young Sandwalker beside them glanced at Levi, his expression softening slightly. "You'll get used to it," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "It's not so different from walking. Just think of it like the earth moving beneath you, instead of your feet."
Levi's eyes flickered to the Sandwalker, confused. "But I'm not the one walking, am I?"
The Sandwalker offered a brief smile, though it didn't last long. "No. But sometimes you just have to trust the rhythm."
Levi looked down at the camel's massive frame beneath him and felt a deep unease settle in his stomach. But before he could think too much about it, the Sandwalker nudged his camel forward, signaling that it was time to move.
Levi hesitated for a moment longer, then followed suit, his own camel swaying beneath him as they began to make their way across the desert.
Levi's focus remained on the figure of his mother leading the way, with Sera still unconscious but safely perched behind her. She was still alive. They were still alive. But how much longer could they keep going like this?
As the group moved further into the desert, Levi gritted his teeth against the pain that still lanced through his back. He could feel the strain in his muscles as the camel swayed with each step, but he pushed past it, focusing on what mattered most.
The desert was endless, and with every step, they moved farther into its unforgiving grasp. But they were free. For now.The sun had crested the dunes, golden light spilling across the desert like a warning. It brought no warmth—only heat. Blistering, heavy, oppressive. Levi shifted uncomfortably atop the camel, the creature swaying beneath him like a ship on an endless, sand-covered sea.
Every jolt of the camel sent a fresh pulse of fire through his back, where the old leather whip had cracked across skin just days before. The thin tunic he wore did nothing to soften the rub of cloth against raw wounds. He bit down on a groan.
Ahead of him, his mother rode in silence beside the lead Sandwalker, their camels forging a steady path through the dunes. Sera was bundled and slumped in front of his mother , she shielded her from the rising sun. She hadn't stirred in some time.
Levi tried to focus on the horizon. On the next step. Anything but the pain.
Sand shifted near his camel. Causing him to glance sideways.
The youngest of the Sandwalkers had drifted closer, a boy maybe a little older than him, quiet, with dark hair bound in a scarf and sharp, curious eyes. He hadn't spoken a word since they left the cave—but now, he looked at Levi, not quite directly.
Or maybe… at Levi's back.
Levi tensed, shoulders pulling in just slightly.
The boy's gaze dipped to where Levi's tunic clung to the dried blood. The fabric had darkened, pressed tight to the healing lash marks. Not all of them had scabbed over. A few still cracked open with the camel's every step.
The boy didn't speak. He didn't ask.
But something in his face shifted. A flicker of recognition. Not pity—Levi couldn't have borne that—but a quiet understanding.
He looked away quickly, tugging his scarf higher over his mouth, and let his camel drift back into line without a word.
Levi exhaled through his nose, slow and shaky. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. A comment? A question? But he was glad the boy hadn't said anything. Still, the silence wasn't empty—it carried weight. A shared kind of pain.
The wind picked up, blowing sand into the air, and Levi ducked his head to shield his face. His back throbbed, his grip ached, but he didn't complain.