The air cooled as they climbed, and by late afternoon, Cole could see the faint outline of mountains in the distance, their peaks still capped with snow despite the season. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Cole found a sheltered spot beneath an overhang of red rock and called for a halt. They unsaddled the horses, set up a small fire, and rationed out the dried meat and hardtack Cole had packed. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Lyra sat across the fire from Cole, chewing slowly and watching him with unnerving intensity.
"What?" Cole finally asked. "Just wondering." "About?" "Why a man who clearly hates company keeps letting us follow him."
"I didn't let you. You're just stubborn." "True," Lyra said, "but you could have shot us." "I don't shoot people for being annoying." "Good policy."
Sani spoke up from where she sat, her voice quiet but firm. "He's letting us follow because he understands." "Understands what?" Cole asked. "That we won't leave. That fighting us would take more energy than tolerating us."
"And that somewhere deep down, you don't actually want to be alone." Cole stared at her. "You don't know me." "I know men," Sani said. "And I know what loneliness looks like."
The fire crackled between them. Cole looked away, jaw tight, and said nothing. Kaya stood, brushed off her pants, and moved to check on the horses. Lyra stretched out on her bedroll, hands behind her head, staring up at the darkening sky. "You know what I miss most?" Lyra said to no one in particular.
"What?" Kaya called back. "Music. Real music. Not just the wind or coyotes howling. I miss hearing someone play a guitar or sing something that wasn't a funeral dirge."
"You sing?" Cole asked, surprising himself. Lyra turned her head to look at him. "Used to. Before everything went to hell." "What happened?"
Lyra's smile faded. "Same thing that happens to everyone out here. We lost what mattered, and we kept moving." Cole understood that better than he wanted to admit. He poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spiraling into the night. "Get some sleep," he said.
"Long day tomorrow." Lyra didn't argue. She rolled onto her side, pulled her blanket up, and within minutes was breathing deep and steady. Sani settled in beside her, and Kaya returned from checking the horses, sitting down near the fire's edge. "You taking first watch?" she asked.
"Yeah." "Wake me in a few hours. I'll take second." Cole nodded. Kaya lay down, closed her eyes, and within moments seemed to be asleep.
Cole sat alone, rifle across his lap, listening to the night settle in around them. The desert was never truly quiet. There were always sounds, distant and strange, reminders that the world didn't sleep just because people did. He thought about what Sani had said. About loneliness.