The desert doesn't care about us.
That's the thought that runs through my mind as we ride, the sun a merciless, burning eye overhead. The sand stretches out in all directions, an endless, undulating sea of gold and amber, shimmering with a heat that's almost tangible.
The transport hums beneath us, a steady, rhythmic vibration that's become the soundtrack to our journey. I can feel Alistair's body beneath my hands, his warmth a stark contrast to the searing heat of the sun. My fingers are still curled in the fabric of his shirt, a desperate, clinging grip that I can't seem to loosen.
I don't want to let go.
I'm afraid of what will happen if I do.
We've been riding for hours, the landscape unchanging, monotonous. The suns have risen high in the sky, their combined heat turning the air into a blistering, suffocating blanket. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back, my throat parched, my skin prickling with the relentless onslaught of the sun.
Alistair hasn't spoken since our last conversation, his focus entirely on the task of navigating the transport, of keeping us on course. I don't know if he's lost in thought, or if he's just trying to conserve his energy, to focus on what needs to be done.
I wish I could do the same.
My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, of memories, of emotions I can't seem to control.
Overheating in the desert isn't the time to deal with those. I know that. But they don't give a damn about my convenience.
Alistair's hand settles over one of mine. "We're almost there." He assures me, his voice low, raspy. "Just a little further."
I nod, though I can't see any sign of the mountains, any indication that we're close to the cave. Everything looks the same, an endless, unchanging desert.
But I trust him. I have to.
I lean my head against his back, closing my eyes against the brightness of the sun. The anger is still there, a simmering, burning presence inside me, but beneath it, the exhaustion is starting to set in. A bone-deep weariness that makes my limbs feel heavy, my thoughts slow and sluggish.
I don't know how much longer I can keep going, how much more I can take. The adrenaline that carried me through the night, through the escape, is starting to fade, leaving behind a hollow, aching emptiness.
I want to rest. To close my eyes and just... stop.
But I can't.
Not until we're safe. Not until we're back in the cave.
"Hey," Alistair says, his voice a low murmur that pulls me back from the brink of exhaustion. "You should probably let go now."
I blink, confused, my grip on his shirt tightening instinctively. "What...?"
He nods ahead of us, and I follow his gaze. The mountains are looming in the distance, their jagged peaks a dark, imposing silhouette against the aky.
"Just don't want anyone in the cave to get the wrong idea. Not while you're still armed and I'm in range." He says dryly.
"What idea-" My thoughts are still sluggish, my brain still trying to catch up with the sudden shift in reality.
"I mean I'd rather not get shot just because someone thinks we're a couple of lovebirds gettin' cozy on the way back." He says, sounding amused.
I stare at him, my cheeks flushing with a heat that has nothing to do with the sun.
"No one- I don't-" I stammer, my words a jumbled, incoherent mess.
"It's fine. Just let go. For now." He smirks, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
I scowl, my face hot with embarrassment, and reluctantly loosen my grip on his shirt. He doesn't seem bothered, his expression calm, unruffled, as if my moment of clinginess was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"-Wait, did you just say I'd shoot-?!"
"We're here." He ignores me, completely.
He guides the transport to a stop, the humming of the engine dying away into silence. We're at the foot of the mountains, the rocks towering above us, their shadows a welcome relief from the relentless sun.
I slide off the transport, my legs shaky, unsteady from the long ride. I can see the entrance to the cave now, a dark, gaping hole in the side of the mountain, a promise of shelter, of safety.
But is it really safe?
Can anywhere be safe, now that they know we're out here? Now that they know what we're capable of?
I push the thought aside, forcing myself to focus on the present. I look at Alistair, who's already unloading the supplies, his movements quick, efficient.
"Need help?" I ask, my voice still a little shaky.
He shakes his head, not looking up from his task. "Got it. You go on ahead. Once they know we're back, there's plenty of hands to unload this thing."
I hesitate, torn between the need to help, to be useful, and the overwhelming desire to just collapse, to let someone else take over for a while.
I decide to take the latter.
I make my way to the cave, my steps slow, dragging. The entrance is just as dark and uninviting as I remember, a gaping maw that seems to swallow the light, the warmth, the hope.
I step inside, the sudden darkness a shock after the brightness of the desert. For a moment, I'm blind, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dim glow of the few remaining glow-sticks.
Then someone slams into me, a thin, wiry body that wraps around me in a desperate, trembling hug.
Hestia.
Her face is buried in my shoulder, her body shaking with quiet tears. I guess it doesn't surprise me. We got back pretty quickly with the transport, but it was still longer than Hestia probably expected, given how long we were in that storage place.
...And she'd probably do this anyway. It's been a long time since we were separated for hours.
I hold her close, my arms wrapping around her small, frail form, a fierce, protective instinct surging through me. She's safe. She's okay. That's all that matters.
I can feel the others watching us, their presence a silent, watchful thing. I look up, meeting Arden's gaze. His expression is unreadable, his eyes a mix of relief and concern.
I offer him a small, tired smile, "Made it back." I say, my voice a hoarse, raspy thing. "With supplies."
I know it's a stupid thing to say, but I don't know what else to say.
He nods, his gaze shifting to the entrance, to Alistair, who's just stepping inside, his arms full of supplies. "Good." He says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "We need 'em."
We do.