The fire flickered weakly, its glow stretching shadows across the wooden walls. The scent of burnt wood and dust hung in the air. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the cabin, whispering like unseen ghosts.
Neither of them spoke.
The man sat stiffly, hands gripping his knees, his body still too tense—like a cornered animal ready to bolt.
Ash, leaning back against the creaky chair, exhaled.
'At least offer your guest some water or something…'
Finally, the man let out a slow breath.
"Sorry… about earlier,"
His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with raw panic.
"I only started this job last week."
Ash shrugged.
"No problem."
His tone was flat and indifferent.
The man's gaze lingered, still cautious but studying him now—measuring.
"Where exactly did you come from? How did you even get here?"
Ash stretched his legs slightly.
"Name's Ash, I just came out from Sandworm Valley."
The man's face hardened instantly.
His fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.
