The ground under their boots was dry and cracked, worn down by years of exposure. With each step, dust scattered and settled again. They kept a steady pace, focused on the path ahead. Above them, the sky was pale and empty, with no clouds, just heat and open space.
Cassian was talking again.
"…and then he tried to trade two filter packs for a cat. A real one. Said it could sniff out bad water like a bloodhound. I told him cats don't work like that, but he just kept insisting... cause he knew better!"
Riven let out a breath , almost a laugh.
Cassian caught it. "That's your reaction? I've been sitting on that story for a week."
"It's a good one."
"I know. You didn't even laugh properly."
But a few steps later, Cassian glanced over and caught the slight curve at the corner of Riven's mouth, a faint smirk that said he still remembered how to react, even if it had been a while.
Cassian pressed a hand to his chest in mock pain. "He lives! The legendary Smile of Sector Nine. Thought it was a myth."
Riven adjusted the strap across his shoulder. "Don't get used to it."
They kept walking, and at some point, Cassian dragged his boot along the ground to break the silence. The terrain started to change, sloping gradually as the ground became more uneven and broken. Rusted pipeline joints rose out of the sand along the path.
Cassian slowed. "You feel that?"
He did. The wind had started to change, faint at first, then stronger, brushing across their path and pulling dust into loose swirls. A strand of it caught Riven's face, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand without letting it slow his pace.
Cassian turned in a slow circle, scanning the horizon. "That's not just wind..."
A few seconds later, the pressure dropped. The wind came harder this time, carrying grit sharp enough to sting. Cassian narrowed his eyes and pulled his collar up.
"Shit. Sandstorm. We need to cover."
Riven scanned the landscape. The visibility was already narrowing, and the wind had gone from dragging to slamming. It hit their backs now, pushing them forward faster than they wanted to move.
"North slope" Riven said, pointing ahead to where the terrain cut deeper.
They moved toward it, the wind scraping dust across their clothes and tugging Cassian's coat until he grabbed the front and pulled it tight. Sand got into his mouth, leaving a dry, gritty layer he couldn't spit out.
"Tell me there's a crevice" Cassian shouted over the wind.
"Working on it."
They passed a road marker, half-buried and worn in the spot where the numbers used to be. Then, just beyond a low break in the ridge, a dark shape came into view: concrete, sloped, probably the remains of an old transit station.
"There" Riven pointed.
They both bolted in that very same direction.
Riven reached the wall first and leaned into the side panel with his shoulder until it moved giving a harsh metallic groan. They slipped inside just as the full wall of sand came roaring down behind them. Darkness swallowed them for a second, hot and stale, but still better than the world outside.
Cassian braced against the door, coughing grit from his throat. "Gods..."
Riven dropped to a knee to catch his breath, staying there for a moment as the tension slowly eased.
Then, quietly, Cassian muttered, "Okay, you're officially not allowed to complain next time I want to take the long route around."
Riven didn't answer right away. He had his ear to the wall, listening to the weight of the wind outside, measuring how much the structure could take. It felt stable under the wear, old, but reinforced. It would hold, at least for now.
Cassian slid down beside him, shoulder to the wall, the last of the grit still clinging to his eyelashes. "Still smiling?"
"No."
Cassian gave a tired grin. "Fair enough..."
The door had slammed shut behind them with a heavy thud, leaving only the sound of their breathing, still fast from the run. The air inside was dry and stale, edged with the smell of rust and old dust. Riven stepped forward, adjusting the satchel on his shoulder as his eyes adjusted to the dark. His boots scraped softly against the floor, and that was when he heard the other footsteps.
"Don't move" a voice commanded from somewhere near them.
A second later, light hit their faces, several flashlights switching on at once with sharp beams cutting through the dark. They both froze instantly. The lights held steady and focused on the both of them. These weren't panicked scavengers or a group hoping bluff would carry them through a bad situation. Whoever they were, they moved with control, and that made them dangerous.
Riven immediately recognized the tension in Cassian's body, like he was preparing for a fight.
Riven raised a hand slightly, palm open. "We're not here to threaten anyone. The storm came in fast, we just needed cover."
There was no answer at first, just the steady sound of approaching footsteps. A figure came into view, tall, mid-thirties, wearing a reinforced jacket patched with travel gear and scrap plating. She held her rifle confidently. Her eyes stayed on Riven, glancing very little at Cassian, as if she'd already decided who mattered more in the moment.
"You're carrying tech" she said. "And you're not covered in half as much sand as you should be."
"We were already moving when the wind picked up" Riven said. "This place was close, and we got inside before it fully hit."
Another man stepped forward, older, solidly built, holding his rifle at the ready. He had the look of someone who'd watched things fall apart too many times to expect otherwise. His eyes moved over Riven, then Cassian, pausing briefly on the satchel.
"Could be you're scouts" he said. "Gangs send pairs ahead looking like they've got nothing."
Riven didn't mind the suspicion. What stood out was how disciplined these people seemed. It was almost as if the group was guarding something, and that told Riven they weren't just passing through. They had something to hold onto, which meant they were less likely to shoot without cause.
Cassian adjusted his footing again. Without turning, Riven said quietly, "Don't."
It was a way of letting Cassian know he understood what he was thinking, and that this wasn't the time to act. A knife wouldn't help in this fight. Cassian had learned to expect the worst, and to be ready before anyone else moved, but not every situation needed to be answered with force.
"We're not scouts" Riven said. "We're not part of anything, and we're not here to take anything from you."
"You have a satchel and nothing else. That is wanting something" the older man said.
Riven knew whatever he said next would either ease the room or push it the wrong way, so he kept his voice steady.
"You're right to be cautious, we've had to be, too. That doesn't mean we're here to cause a problem. We'll stay on the wall and leave as soon as the storm's clear."
The woman waited a moment, then lowered her weapon slightly, enough to change everybody's mood. When she spoke again, she was less guarded.
"My name is Talia. These people are with me. We don't waste time on lies, and we're not here to listen to stories. If you cause a problem, it ends fast. If not, sit down and stay put unless someone says otherwise."
Riven gave a short nod. "Understood."
Talia looked over at the older man, and after a brief pause, he lowered his rifle, though he kept his eyes on them. Cassian let out a slow breath and eased his shoulders, but Riven noticed his hand still rested near his coat. He still wasn't fully at ease.
Riven knew they'd stepped into a space that didn't belong to them, and what kept it from turning bad hadn't been luck. Talia didn't seem like the kind of person who acted to prove something, she was watching closely, trying to figure out what they were after.
On the other side of things, Cassian had held back, even with every part of him ready to react, and he'd done it because Riven asked. That counted more than Riven would ever say out loud.