They climbed the next rise in silence, boots crunching through sand and stone until the world stretched away before them.
Rasha slowed, her breath catching.
Below, the desert surrendered to something new — muted greens clustering around a faint glimmer of water far below.
Up here, loose sand still dominated, but dustier soil flecked the ground, hinting at life fighting its way upward.
Rasha stared, stunned.
She had never seen green like this. Not scraps of struggling vines, but full thickets — low and stubborn, pushing into the dead earth.
Even Talo, who had seen more of the world, stood in silent awe.
As they began their descent, the sand beneath their feet changed.
It didn't slip away like before — it held.
Halfway down, grit gave way to soil deep enough that they could almost feel the first roots stretching unseen beneath their steps.
The desert's final defiance at the crest — and beyond it, the promise of water and growth.
They walked into the thicket almost without realizing, the air growing cooler, the wind sweeter.
Rasha reached out, brushing her fingertips against a bush: low, dust-green leaves, small but stubborn.
She whispered something to herself — too soft to hear — her wonder raw, unguarded.
Talo crouched, pressing a twig into the earth.
"See how damp it is?" he said, breaking the moment gently.
He rubbed a leaf between his fingers until a drop formed and tasted it.
"Bitter. But alive."
Rasha mimicked him, catching dew on her hand. It tasted sharp. Metallic. But it was life.
"This means we're close," she said, voice light with wonder.
"Real soil. Real plants."
Talo nodded, standing.
"A day's walk at most."
He dusted off his knees and scanned the trees.
"And tonight, we have shade, shelter... maybe luck."
The land embraced them, cautious but real.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren't fighting for each step.
They were being allowed to pass.
Talo watched the sky, sensing the shift in the air.
"We're far enough in," he said, pausing near a low rise.
"This is as good a place as any."
Rasha agreed. Her legs ached — not from weakness, but from the strange firmness of real earth.
She smiled slightly, feeling the strength in it.
"All right. Let's make camp."
The bushes broke the wind. A small hollow behind them would keep their fire out of sight.
Talo cleared the space quickly while Rasha gathered stones.
With a flick of her fingers, she coaxed a soft, careful flame into life.
Twilight deepened, casting a purple wash over the world.
Crickets stirred in the brush — real ones, not echoes from old, dying places.
They ate quickly, sharing the last of their trail rations, and leaned back against the roots.
Talo grinned lazily.
"Feels like we've already crossed into another world."
Rasha gazed past the darkening trees.
"We have," she said quietly. "And I don't think we're going back."
The fire burned low, casting long, flickering shadows.
Rasha lay curled beneath her blanket, but her sleep was uneasy.
Something tugged at her from the edge of dreams — not fear, but presence.
Watching.
Her eyes snapped open.
The camp was quiet. The bushes whispered in the breeze.
But she felt them — many of them — just beyond sight.
Not circling. Not closing in.
Just there.
Waiting.
And somehow... familiar.
She moved silently, nudging Talo's shoulder.
"Wake up," she whispered.
He blinked blearily at her.
"What is it?"
"There's something out there," she said, heart steady but alert.
"Spirits. Or something close."
Talo was fully awake now, scanning the brush.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"It's not the Fire Spirit. It's something different. And it feels... connected."
He pulled on his boots, tightening the straps.
"No sudden moves," he muttered, repeating his earlier warning.
Rasha nodded, the flame inside her steady but curious.
"I think... I need to get closer."
Talo shook his head instantly.
"Bad idea." He grabbed his rope coil.
"Stay by the fire. If they're spirits, we don't know what they'll do. I'll check."
Rasha opened her mouth to argue — but stopped.
He wasn't just being protective.
He was right.
"Be careful," she said quietly.
He gave a crooked grin, then slipped into the brush.
The night pressed close around her as she waited, the fire a small pulse against the dark.
Talo moved carefully, every sense alert.
Then — there. A flash of movement. Tiny screeches.
Five quick shapes scattering into the undergrowth.
He froze, listening.
Not spirits. Not shadows.
Small creatures. Real. Alive.
When he returned, Rasha was kneeling by the fire, feeding it gently.
She rose to meet him halfway.
"Well?" she asked.
"Five of them," he said.
"Small. Ran when they heard me. Not spirits."
She frowned, confused.
"But I felt them. I know I did."
He crouched, poking the coals thoughtfully.
"You did. But maybe not the way you thought."
She stared into the flames, thinking.
The sand hare.
The life she had touched, soothed.
That bond hadn't vanished — it had grown.
"They weren't spirits," she murmured.
"They were echoes of something I already knew."
Talo gave a small nod.
"Makes sense why you'd feel them stronger than me."
A quiet settled between them, not heavy this time — soft, thoughtful.
Talo leaned forward, voice low.
"You know... that could help us."
Rasha blinked.
"Help?"
He smiled slightly.
"If you can feel creatures after you touch them... you could track. You could survive in ways no one else can."
Her heart thudded once.
"You think it's... a gift?"
"I think it's you," he said simply. "Always has been."
She stared into the fire, the thought wrapping itself carefully into her heart.
"What if I've always had it?" she whispered.
Talo didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The fire crackled low, threading warmth into the cool night air.
Maybe the Fire Spirit hadn't given her power after all.
Maybe it had only unburied what was already waiting.
They lay back against the earth, the hush of the world settling around them.
Neither said goodnight.
They didn't have to.
The flames dimmed to a soft glow.
The bushes rustled quietly with the night's breath.