The dawn was grey and cold. With every breath, the chill crept in, defying everything that had happened the night before. The caravan moved before the first rays of sunlight, dragging itself slowly through the sand that still bore the traces of the previous evening. Alex walked like a machine, his mind blank, his heart still gripped by fear.
The faces of the other slaves were closed off, hollow, as if someone had erased the last remnants of life from them. The guards rode alongside the column on massive, two-humped lizard-like creatures—beasts whose scales shimmered in the first light of day. Occasionally, one of the guards would cast a sharp glance or lash out with a whip, but otherwise, there was only silence.
Alex still felt the gaze of the old man with the burned hand. They had spoken only briefly during the night, but his words had sunk deep into Alex's memory. Monsters. The darkness that devoured. Death, waiting just beyond the edge of those strange symbols carved into the wall.
He glanced sideways at Elf. She sat a few steps away, hunched over, head lowered, as if trying to block out the rest of the world. Her hair, now caked with dust, fell over her face, hiding the tattoo whose meaning Alex still didn't understand. For a moment, he wanted to step closer, to say something—but then he pushed the thought away. This wasn't the right time for words.
The sun climbed higher, and the chill gave way to heat, once again beginning to suck the life from their bodies. The sand burned their feet, and the air shimmered, distorting the desert like the world itself was unwilling to reveal what waited at the end of the road.
Around noon, the caravan stopped for a brief rest, and the guards tossed a few water skins to the slaves. Alex watched as the others lunged for them, fighting over a few precious sips. He no longer had the strength to fight—too tired, too sore.
One of the guards—a young, arrogant man—awkwardly dismounted his massive, scaly mount and accidentally knocked a water skin off the saddle. The container landed softly in the sand, not far from where Alex was standing. For a brief moment, no one noticed—the guard was too busy laughing and chatting with his companion, and the rest of the slaves were still scrambling over the remaining water skins.
Alex felt his pulse quicken. He hesitated only for a second. Quickly, he bent down, grabbed the water skin, and held it tightly against his chest, as if he were clutching something both precious and dangerous.
His heart was pounding. He looked to the side. The guard had already walked away, seemingly unaware of the loss.
Without a word, Alex uncorked the skin and took a few quick, greedy gulps. The water was warm, slightly brackish, but to Alex it tasted like life itself. He felt the drops running down his chin, nourishing his parched body.
Then his gaze fell on the elf.
She sat still, eyes closed. Her breathing was shallow, her forehead damp with sweat. She hadn't lunged for the water like the others. Either she didn't have the strength—or she saw no point in fighting for a few drops.
For a moment, Alex wrestled with himself. Instinct told him to keep the water, to survive. But something deeper—something he couldn't quite name—moved him to act. And he walked toward her.
She didn't look up, not even when he stood right beside her. He hesitated, unsure what to do. Finally, he gathered himself, extended the water skin, and said softly:
— Take it. You need to drink.
She opened her eyes. The look she gave him was sharp. For a second, he thought she would refuse, push his hand away, maybe even hit him. But she looked at the water skin, then at him, and slowly, very carefully, took it from his hand.
She drank calmly, without haste. A few drops trickled down her neck, leaving trails among the sand and sweat. She handed the skin back without a word—but with a faint smile. In her eyes, Alex saw something new—gratitude.
"Thank you," she said, watching him for a moment.
After a while, the guards mounted their lizard-like beasts again.
Something had changed in her gaze.
They returned to their places in silence. No one else seemed to notice what had happened—or no one cared. In that brief moment, something had formed between them—a quiet, wordless bond, so thin it could be broken by a breath of wind. But it existed. Alex knew it. Felt it more clearly than anything else before.
The caravan moved on. Sand and sun, pain and fear returned. But now, when he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, he no longer felt entirely alone. Her eyes no longer held emptiness—there was a spark of something he hadn't seen before. Perhaps respect. Perhaps curiosity. Perhaps hope.
He walked on, step by step, and the desert stretched endlessly ahead. He didn't know where they were going. He didn't know if he'd survive another day.
But he knew now that he wasn't alone. That even in this nightmare—in this world that tried to break him at every turn—there might be people he could hold on to.
Even if it was just the gaze of one girl he hadn't even known a day ago.