They broke camp as the sun slid behind the ridges, letting the desert fall into deep blues and quiet golds.
The smoke from their curing racks had thinned to a lazy whisper, the meat packed carefully into their satchels.
They left the hollow behind, sticking close to the worn road as the last daylight fled.
At first, the world around them was cautious — shadows stretching long across the ground, every stone and bush caught in half-light.
But as they walked, something changed.
The stars bled across the sky, vivid and impossibly close.
The air cooled into a soft, rolling breeze.
The road itself gleamed faintly under the light of the rising moons — twin silver lanterns casting a glow over everything.
Rasha tilted her head back, stunned.
The desert at night was... breathtaking.
Not barren.
Alive — shifting and whispering beneath the silvered sky.
Flowers she hadn't noticed before opened in the cool air, releasing scents both sweet and wild.
Tiny insects blinked in and out of sight, like fallen stars.
Talo walked beside her, unusually quiet.
When she glanced at him, she found him looking upward too, a faint, boyish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He caught her gaze and gave a small shrug, almost sheepish.
"Didn't think it could look like this either."
They slowed without meaning to, savoring the cool air after so many sunburnt days.
The silence between them wasn't heavy.
It was easy — woven through with wonder.
Rasha found herself smiling — a real, unguarded smile — and when she turned to say something, Talo was already looking at her.
Not like before — not as a fellow survivor, not even as a friend.
But with something softer.
Something almost like awe.
Her breath caught — just a little.
The moons softened every scar, every shadow.
Talo cleared his throat, glancing down briefly.
"If this is what the world looks like outside the Fire Lands... I think we made the right choice."
Rasha's voice was barely a whisper.
"I think so too."
They didn't reach for each other.
They didn't need to.
The air between them was enough — warm, fragile, trembling with things neither of them had words for yet.
And so they walked on, side by side, carried by the slow heartbeat of the living night.
The road wound gently through low hills, where scrubby trees leaned against the wind and thorned bushes clung to stubborn patches of green.
The ground underfoot grew harder — dust layered with dry soil — and the scent in the air turned sharper, richer.
They had walked maybe two and a half hours, the moons rising higher overhead.
Rasha's steps slowed as the road bent around a wide hollow where brush and tangled undergrowth thickened.
Down in the shallow basin, something moved — not sharply, but softer, like mist brushing the ground.
"Wait," she whispered, touching Talo's arm.
He followed her gaze, brow furrowing.
Drifting through the scrub were small lights — dozens of them.
They hovered just above the earth, pulsing faintly, their glow a muted gold tinged with soft blue.
"What...?" Talo breathed, squinting.
"They're not insects," Rasha said, wonder threading her voice.
They slipped carefully off the road, feet soundless against broken soil.
The lights didn't scatter.
Instead, a few floated nearer — circling lazily around Rasha's outstretched hand.
The air smelled faintly sweet — blooming herbs touched by cold.
Rasha extended her fingers slowly.
One of the lights brushed her skin.
It wasn't hot.
It was warm — breathing and soft, like the earth reaching back.
She laughed under her breath, the sound bright and astonished.
Talo grinned, eyes wide.
"They're real... They're alive."
One bobbed toward him — pausing as if in consideration — then settled briefly against his sleeve, leaving a warmth that lingered even after it floated away.
He chuckled, low and soft.
"Guess we passed inspection."
The lights drifted around them, illuminating the hollow like a dream.
"They're not afraid," Rasha whispered.
"No," Talo said. "They're... welcoming us."
They stood there a long while, breathing in time with the land.
Above them, the moons burned silver.
Around them, the scrub and grasses rustled faintly under the wind.
Finally, Rasha said:
"I think the world's trying to tell us something."
Talo smiled sideways.
"Yeah? What's it saying?"
She turned fully, the glow of the lights reflected in her eyes.
"That we're on the right path."
Talo held her gaze — the night and the world and all the long miles yet to travel stretched between them.
"Then we'll keep walking," he said simply.
The lights drifted deeper into the brush, carried by some hidden current only they could feel.
Without realizing it, as they turned back toward the road, their hands brushed — and stayed.
Fingers twined gently, as if the night itself had woven them closer.
Neither spoke.
Neither pulled away.
They walked in silence, stitched together by something quieter than a promise.
Only when their boots touched the familiar ruts of the road did awareness break through.
They startled — hands slipping apart in clumsy, awkward motions, each pretending to adjust a strap or sleeve.
Neither mentioned it.
But the air between them had changed — stretched thin like the last breath before a flame takes.
They moved on without speaking, the silence warm and inevitable.
They traveled a little farther, the world rolling into soft rises and shallow dips, bushes and scrub throwing shifting shadows across the ground.
The cool air brushed their faces, carrying the distant scent of cracked stone and herbs.
At last, near a leaning stone marker, they found a place to rest — a shallow rise shielded by thornbushes and low trees.
Not perfect.
But enough.
Talo knelt, testing the ground, and nodded.
"Here."
Rasha dropped her pack beside his, stretching sore legs.
Above them, the moons climbed higher, pale guardians of a sleeping world.
They spread their blankets side by side — a little closer than usual, not quite touching.
For a while, Rasha lay awake, staring at the vast sweep of stars.
Tracing constellations she barely remembered.
Wondering what the coming days would bring.
What unknown lands, unknown people, unknown futures lay beyond the next rise.
Beside her, Talo's breathing deepened, slipping into the rhythm of sleep.
At some point, half-turning in dreams, he shifted closer — and his arm settled lightly around her shoulders.
Rasha stiffened, caught off-guard — then slowly, she exhaled.
The weight wasn't heavy.
It wasn't claiming.
It was steady.
Safe.
She closed her eyes, letting it settle over her like another blanket.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Rasha let herself stop thinking.
To simply be.
Cradled under the ancient stars, she drifted into sleep.
And the world, spinning slow and silent around them, kept its vigil.