The howl of wolves carried across the desert, as crisp as the light of the descending moon. Gunshots punctuated it intermittently, but their sound was fragmented, almost failing to convey any real threat.
"Should we go over?" Casia asked, gripping the steering wheel. The top of the dune chain was narrow; one slip could send them tumbling down. Climbing back up would take time and energy.
Kara, nominally Casia's team leader, naturally took charge of the mission. Casia allowed it.
"Of course. It's just a caravan, and the wolf pack isn't very large. A few bullets won't matter much," Kara said, her eyes still focused through the scope. "We're approaching the Green Oasis. This caravan is a good source for some needed information."
"Drive over, then." Kara brought her sniper rifle up. The mechanical clicks of the assembly echoed as golden bullets slid into the chamber, one by one. Casia slowed the vehicle slightly, giving her a more stable position.
The caravan was small, with only about a dozen steam vehicles. Their defensive guns were sparse and inadequate, unable to form a proper fire net against the prowling wolves.
David, the caravan owner, looked pale and shaken. Cold sweat covered his forehead. He had been running business in other oases, but his temper had earned him enemies. Business had been impossible for days. On top of that, his wife and daughters had faced repeated threats. Helpless, he had hastily gathered his belongings before the full moon, hoping to reach the Green Oasis for safety.
But anyone who traveled the desert knew the danger of the full moon. Wolves grew frenzied under its light, indifferent to gunfire. The desert's heat currents also became unpredictable. Black dust storms often appeared at this time—a phenomenon long studied by the Empire's Academy of Seismology.
Anyone unafraid of wolves in the desert had to be fully armed mercenaries, whose firepower kept wolves tens of meters away.
These mercenaries usually scrambled to take jobs, but around the full moon, they kept a low profile, taking a rare respite. The deadly black dust storms left no margin for error.
This left David with no option to hire real mercenaries on short notice, aside from the elderly, weak, or sick already hiding in the vehicles.
The sparse gunfire from the caravan was easily broken by the wolves. The steam vehicles surged forward. Wolves, nearly five feet tall, moved with wild intensity. Fragile glass shattered against their skulls. Yet before Kara's sniper rifle, no skull was resilient enough. Each bullet tore through like a small explosion, spraying a mixture of red and white, fragments landing across David's trembling body.
His stomach churned. The sticky, metallic smell clung to his face. Before he could wipe it away, he vomited, the tears and mucus blending with the canned rations he had eaten in the desert. The moonlight revealed everything. Around him, the sound of gunfire faded from his awareness.
When he finally regained composure, the wolves were gone. Only heads and shattered torsos remained, the blood thick and absorbed by the dry sand, almost white in the moonlight.
The caravan's dozen vehicles came to a stop. David wiped his face, noticing something approaching, a sound unlike any steam engine he had heard.
Two distant lights scanned ahead, forcing him to squint. A strangely shaped vehicle had stopped in front of the caravan. A man wore a black, crow-like mask at the wheel. A woman leaned out from the vehicle's second-floor sunroof, her dark hair moving lightly in the cool wind.
Finally, a long sniper rifle barrel came into view. Its black alloy body reflected faint moonlight, outlining a deliberate silhouette. David shivered. The muzzle was clearly aimed at his head.
"Let's talk this out," David said quickly, instructing his wife and daughters to stay hidden. He stepped down, forcing a friendly smile.
"Friend, th-thank you…"
Kara, unbothered by politeness, interrupted. A sniper bullet spun off the barrel, grazing David's hair above the ear, leaving a neat line.
The shell casing clinked sharply against the vehicle, echoing in David's mind. He nearly cried, hands raised high, his forced smile worse than crying. His heart pounded.
"Stop playing around," Casia said quietly, internally sympathizing with David. "Weren't you saying we should be friendly?"
"People can change. And so can my mood." Kara finally holstered the rifle. "I've changed my mind. This merchant is more capable of gathering information than either of us. He might be useful in the Green Oasis. And we still have several bundles of furs to sell. He's the right choice."
Kara stepped down, her gray coat turning silver under moonlight and vehicle lights. She smiled, holding a magazine-fed pistol, walking toward the slightly plump man.
Casia removed his mask, thinking of Ye Jielin—whose temperament was a hundred times harsher than Kara's. He wondered how she was doing. The thought lingered in his mind. He stepped down, holding back a sigh. Ten days had passed, and they hadn't even begun the mission, leaving him slightly defeated.
"Hello, Uncle Fatty!" Kara greeted warmly, subtly pointing the pistol at David. "I'm Castine Evelyn. Have you heard of the Evelyn family?"
Casia silently sympathized with Gustin, who hadn't spoken.
David nodded quickly. "Heard of it, heard of it! How could I not know the Evelyn Grand Ducal family? I even did business with your family a few days ago! I've admired the Evelyn family for a long time. Today I th-thank—"
"That's wonderful!" Kara's smile made David's heart skip. His words died in his throat.
A day later, in the blowing wind, David followed Casia and the others, finally arriving at the Green Oasis.