They arrived at the village Nea had mentioned—nestled beside an oasis, built between natural stone arches and a row of date palms flourishing from the underground spring. The atmosphere reminded Ren of something deeply familiar: clay walls, narrow sandy alleys, and a golden sky burning above flat rooftops.
"Hmm…" Ren murmured, narrowing his eyes as he observed the layout of the buildings and the rhythm of the townsfolk's steps, their loose clothing dyed in desert tones. "Not too different from your village."
Nea frowned slightly, confused. "Sorry?"
Ren gave a small smile and glanced at her. "I meant the houses here. The architecture. I've seen this style before—back in Sudan. But forget it, that's another story."
Nea looked like she wanted to ask more, but Ren was already moving, eyes scanning his surroundings. He kept a comfortable distance from the locals, who watched him with a mix of expressions—curiosity, suspicion, and in some cases, mild awe at his clearly foreign outfit.
