The group trailed behind Kael in a staggered line, boots dragging through sand that refused to behave like ground. Each step sank a little, stole a little. Even when the wind calmed, the desert still hissed, grains sliding down dunes, whispering against fabric, working their way into seams and teeth like they belonged there.
Kael slowed until the others nearly bumped into him, then stopped completely.
He tipped his chin up. The sky looked clean in the ugliest way; no haze, no cloud cover, just a hard emptiness with stars scattered like cold nails. The kind of night that didn't feel peaceful. It felt predatory.
"Why are we stopping?" Garron asked, he had an edge to his voice.
Kael didn't answer right away. He was listening to the silence, reading the air with the same attention he used for footsteps and breathing. The desert at night wasn't quiet, it was waiting.
"No clouds, it'll get cold real fast."
Garron's lips tightened, irritation chewing at his patience like a rat.
