Standing atop a massive dune, Thoren gazed into the distance.
From where he stood, clusters of tents stretched across the desert like scattered fragments of a broken world.
They were numerous, well over a hundred and spread unevenly across the sand, forming what could only loosely be called a settlement.
"That's our camp," Tahlia said with a bright smile. "Beautiful, right?"
Thoren did not respond.
Beautiful?
He could not see it.
From his perspective, the tents were anything but appealing. They were old, worn, and poorly maintained. Some leaned awkwardly, their frames barely holding together, while others appeared patched with mismatched fabrics that fluttered weakly in the desert wind.
Sensing his silence, Tahlia tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"You must be new," she said.
From what she had observed, Thoren carried himself too calmly, too clean for someone who had spent time in the Bleeding Desert.
