The descent down the slope was slow and deliberate, each step sinking slightly into the shifting sands that slipped beneath their feet. The wind whistled through the wasteland, carrying with it tiny grains that stung their faces and bit at exposed skin. Luke squinted against the grit, his gaze fixed ahead where the scout's body lay, still and forlorn against the barren landscape.
Commander Valerie led the way, her hand never straying far from her sword, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. Ilyrana and Larissa flanked her, their steps cautious but steady. Luke trailed slightly behind, his heart heavy with the weight of what they were about to confront. The rope, snapped and frayed at its end, lay like a severed lifeline in the sand, leading them directly to their fallen comrade.
