The sun began its slow slide toward the horizon, painting the Wasteland in streaks of burnt orange and deep purple. The heat softened, but the air still hung heavy with dust and the quiet, constant threat of the broken world. Aris stood atop the wobbly water tower, canteens safely stowed, her gaze fixed west—toward the Black Fort.
Toward Kael's home.
Toward trouble.
Toward something that felt dangerously like fate.
She hated it.
"West," she repeated, more to herself than to the man beside her. "We move west. But let's get one thing straight—this is not a rescue mission. This is not a loyalty quest. This is not personal."
Kael leaned against the rusted metal edge, golden eyes calm as he watched her. "You've said that."
"I'm saying it again so it sticks in that fancy warlord brain of yours," Aris snapped. "We go to the Black Fort for supplies. Weapons. Ammunition. Anything I can trade or sell. If we happen to run into your traitorous former subordinates, you can deal with them. But I'm not dying for your throne. I'm not fighting your wars. I'm just here for the loot."
"Loot," Kael echoed, the word light with amusement. "Of course."
"Don't you 'of course' me," Aris warned, pointing a finger at him. "I mean it. If you start monologuing about honor, or legacy, or taking back what's yours, I'm leaving you in the sand. I've got zero patience for dramatic speeches."
"I'll keep my monologues to myself," Kael promised, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Good," Aris said, satisfied. She took one last look at the setting sun, then turned toward the ladder. "We'll walk until dark, then find a place to camp. No fires. No noise. No doing anything stupid that gets us killed."
She started down the rickety ladder, moving quickly, her body already accustomed to the Wasteland's endless movement. Kael followed, his steps steady and silent behind her.
By the time they reached the ground, the first stars were pricking the darkening sky. The world grew quieter, colder, the wind picking up just enough to carry the faint, distant howl of a night creature.
Aris didn't hesitate. She set off west, her backpack heavy with water, her knife at her hip, the stolen gun secure at her waist. Kael fell into step beside her, no longer a captive, no longer just salvage, but something new—something she refused to name.
A partner.
The thought made her skin crawl.
They walked in silence for hours, the only sound their boots crunching on gravel and the soft whisper of wind through broken buildings. Aris led the way, her internal map guiding her through the safest paths, away from raider camps, away from scavenger traps, away from anything that might slow them down.
Kael didn't ask where they were going. He didn't ask how much farther. He just walked, watchful and calm, like he trusted her to keep them alive.
It was the most unsettling thing that had ever happened to her.
"You're quiet," Aris said finally, breaking the silence just to fill it. "Too quiet. You're plotting something. I can tell."
"I'm not plotting," Kael said. "I'm thinking."
"Thinking is just plotting with a better vocabulary," Aris muttered. "What about?"
"About how strange this is," he said simply. "A week ago, I was the Lord of the Black Fort. I had an army. A fortress. Power. Now I'm following a scavenger who keeps threatening to sell me, toward my own crumbling home, and I… don't mind."
Aris blinked. She hadn't expected honesty. Honesty was dangerous. Honesty was soft.
"Don't get used to it," she said sharply. "The second we reach the fort, I'll loot everything I can carry, and then I'll find a buyer for you. I'm serious. My rules haven't changed."
"Your rules change every day," Kael pointed out. "You gave food to a stranger. You left a gift for a child. You're taking me home. None of that sounds like the ruthless scavenger you claim to be."
"I'm practical!" Aris insisted, flushing. "The kid would've gotten us killed. The supplies at the fort are valuable. And you're a better bodyguard alive than dead. It's all profit. Every single thing I do is profit."
"Of course," Kael said, his tone so agreeing it was infuriating.
Aris huffed, speeding up slightly, as if walking faster would outrun the truth hanging between them. But it was no use. The truth was there, thick and unignorable—she wasn't just in this for the coins anymore.
She was in this for him.
Just a little.
She refused to let it matter.
They walked until the moon was high and bright, until Aris's legs ached so badly she could barely feel her feet, until she finally spotted a small, collapsed building that would serve as decent shelter.
"We camp here," she said, stopping in front of the half-buried structure. "It's dry. Hidden. No one will find us."
Kael nodded, and they ducked inside, settling into the relative safety of the shadows. Aris slid to the ground, stretching her legs, letting out a quiet, exhausted sigh.
She pulled a canteen from her bag and took a small sip, then held it out to Kael. He took it without comment, drinking sparingly, just like she'd taught him.
In the Wasteland, small habits felt like trust.
Aris hated it.
"When we reach the Black Fort," she said, her voice low and serious, cutting through the quiet night, "what happens?"
Kael looked at her, his golden eyes steady in the moonlight. "We take back what's mine."
"You take back what's yours," Aris corrected. "I'll be in the corner, looting your wine cellar. Or your weapon storage. Whichever has more value."
A faint, real smile touched Kael's lips. "Of course."
Aris stared at him, and for a second, all her walls, all her rules, all her excuses fell away. For a second, she wasn't a scavenger. She wasn't a survivor. She was just a girl, looking at a man who'd become more to her than salvage.
Then she snapped back to herself, hard and fast.
"Stop smiling," she snapped. "It's creepy. And stop looking at me like that. I still sell you. Eventually. Maybe. Later."
Kael's smile widened, just a little.
"Eventually," he agreed.
Aris crossed her arms, turning her face away, so he wouldn't see the stupid, traitorous smile tugging at her own lips.
Outside, the Wasteland slept.
Inside, two survivors rested, bound by chaos, by danger, and by something softer than either.
Aris didn't know what waited for them at the Black Fort. She didn't know if they'd find glory, or death, or just more broken pieces of a broken world.
But she knew one thing for certain.
She wasn't running anymore.
Not from the raiders.
Not from the fort.
And not from him.
…But she was definitely still going to sell him.
Probably.