The desert wind carried dust across their path as they walked, the children keeping close behind the tall stranger who had promised them food and shelter. His steps were steady, each one leaving deep prints in the sand.
Igron tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Where exactly are you taking us?"
The man glanced back, his stern face softening for a moment. "To a place better than this road. A home. Food, warmth… and safety."
The children murmured with relief. Some even smiled.
Then his gaze settled on Kairo. The boy walked silently, crimson eyes unreadable beneath the ragged black strands of hair that clung to his face.
The man slowed his stride, placed a warm, rough hand gently on Kairo's head, and smiled faintly.
"You're the younger brother, right?" he asked, his tone softer than before. "Don't worry. From now on, you're safe."
The other kids beamed at the gesture, clinging to the hope in his words.
Kairo didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, but for an instant, the warmth of the hand seemed to stir something faint in his chest — a shadow of a feeling long buried.
And then, just as the air grew still, shapes began to emerge from the dunes ahead. Figures with blades and hungry eyes. Bandits.