The sub-zero winds screaming off the northern ridge didn't just carry frost—they carried the faint, unmistakable stench of old decay.
Hana stood at the edge of the ledge, her boots planted firmly against the frozen stone. The transport prep was minimal; with her system's inventory fully functional, she didn't need a caravan. She just needed a ride.
"Ren and Raiden are already at the primary gates," Caspian reported, his massive, dark silhouette cutting through the swirling gray mist behind her. "The first migration waves are already showing up. Minor herbivore tribes, mostly. Ren is checking them for bites, and Raiden is organizing them into the new housing sectors. No one enters without passing through the system scanning arches first."
"Good," Hana said, her voice clipped and cold. "Let them handle the intake. You and I are taking a detour before we hit Bunker-06."
