Two days of dust. Two days of silence.
The world west of the settlement lay dead. Kael rode through a graveyard of small towns—hollow shells of wood and stone stripped by time and scavengers.
A stone marker stood where the road broke apart. DUSTHAVEN, it read—marked on the map as the last supply before Red Rock Canyon.
A lone streetlamp still stood at the edge of town. Something shriveled hung from it, blackened and dried by the wind.
The skies stayed empty, untouched even by vultures.
Just the wind, hissing through broken windows like a dying breath.
Kael pulled on the reins, bringing the bay gelding to a halt near a collapsed water tower. The horse's head drooped, its coat matted with sweat and grit.
Kael dismounted. His boots hit the dry earth with a heavy thud.
By the second night, his stomach tightened with hunger. He counted what remained and knew it was less than it should be.
Hunger. It burned steady in his gut, hot and demanding.
He checked the saddlebags.
Empty.
The dried meat was gone yesterday. The cheese, gone this morning.
He pulled out the last item: a single, rock-hard heel of bread.
Kael looked at it. It wasn't enough to fill a tooth, let alone a man. His stomach cramped, demanding it.
He looked at the horse. The beast was watching him, its large dark eyes fixed on the bread. It nudged his shoulder, a weak, tired motion.
For two straight nights, the horse carried him on without faltering. The scrub grass along the road lay dead and yellow, offering nothing to graze on.
"Eat up," he muttered, breaking the bread and giving it over. "We're moving again tonight."
The horse took it gently, warm lips brushing against his calloused hand.
Kael turned away and walked toward the center of the ruins. He needed water.
He found the town square, dominated by an old stone well. Most wells on the road had been dry, choked with sand and bones.
He picked up a stone and dropped it into the darkness and waited.
Splash.
Faint. Deep. But wet.
Kael let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
He grabbed the frayed rope of the bucket mechanism. The wood groaned in protest as he cranked it. The handle fought him, rusted and stiff, but Kael's arm moved with mechanical steady force.
Up. Up. Up.
The bucket cleared the rim. It was half-full of murky, brown water.
It looked like mud. It smelled like wet copper.
To Kael, it was enough.
Kael tipped the bucket into the stone trough. The bay thrust its muzzle forward at once, then drank greedily, sucking the water down in noisy gulps.
Kael lowered the bucket again. And again.
On the third draw, he lifted the bucket to his own lips. The water was gritty and tasted of iron, but it was cold. He drank until his stomach hurt.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
The sun was high now, a white hammer beating down on the anvil of the earth. To continue now would be suicide. The heat would suck the moisture right back out of them.
Kael led the horse into the shadow of a ruined general store. The roof was half-gone, but the walls were thick enough to block the sun.
He sat down in the dirt, leaning his back against the cool stone.
"We wait," he told the horse. "We move at dusk."
The horse huffed and closed its eyes, resting one back leg.
Kael closed his eyes and listened to the wind. He listened to the silence. He waited as the hunger settled into a dull roar. He slept.
Red Rock Canyon was a few hours' hard ride away.
...
The shadows stretched long, turning from grey to deep purple as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. The heat slackened, still heavy, but no longer crushing.
Kael opened his eyes. He had slept lightly, never fully at rest. Always listening
He stood, joints popping. Hunger tightened as he moved. It was the kind of thing he had long learned to ignore—just not in this body.
"Up," he told the horse.
The bay gelding groaned and hauled itself to its feet. Kael went back for the bucket and let it drink again.
Kael tightened the cinch, then walked the horse out of the ruins, giving it the first mile to stretch and settle before the ride.
When the last of the light faded and the stars reclaimed the sky, Kael swung into the saddle. They set off again.
The land changed. The flat scrub broke into slopes and rock, with the first signs of vegetation clinging to the ground. The wind grew louder, threading through the stone.
He rode for three hours. The moon rose, painting the desert in silver and black.
Ahead, the horizon broke.
Red Rock Canyon.
Even in the moonlight, the rock lived up to its name. Great slabs of sandstone rose from the earth like the rusted ribs of a giant beast. The canyon mouth was a dark throat, swallowing the road.
And deep inside that throat, there was light. Flickering orange dots. Campfires.
Kael folded the map. The smell came on the wind. Faint.
Smoke. Stale sweat. Something old and wrong beneath it.
The horse shifted under him, ears flicking back and forth. Kael drew the reins in and laid a hand on its neck.
"Easy," he whispered.
Kael stopped short of the canyon mouth and swung down from the saddle. Riding straight in was for another kind of man.
He guided the horse off the main trail, path through loose shale until the rock folded in on itself. A narrow fissure opened along the wall—tight, sheltered from the wind, and invisible from the road.
He dismounted there and tied the reins to a thick mesquite root half-buried in stone.
"Stay," Kael commanded. "If I don't come back, break the rope and run."
The horse huffed, lowered its head, and nosed at the sparse grass clinging to the rock.
Kael left it there and moved on foot toward the canyon.
Two men were posted along the canyon's edge.
One slumped against the stone, head bowed, breathing slow and even.
The other sat nearby, boots stretched out, staring into the dark. His eyes tracked Kael for a second, unfocused, then drifted away.
Kael walked straight across the stone, boots grinding against the shale without concern.
The sleeper stirred. He smacked his lips, eyes still half-closed.
"Already?" he muttered. "Shift change?"
He swallowed and squinted into the dark. "You got any liquor?"
Kael didn't answer.
The knife slid free.