The rope tugged with each footfall—sometimes light, sometimes frantic—but it held. It was the only thread connecting them to safety, snaking across the wasteland like a lifeline pulled tight by hope and desperation.
The group, small in number but heavy with determination, surged forward. Their boots sank into the sand with every step, kicking up clouds of dust that glimmered under the harsh, burning sun. Behind them, the ground was torn and gouged from the Ulroks' emergence, but ahead… ahead lay the promise of safety. The camp near Govean. A place that, up until now, had not been touched by these creatures.
Why the Ulroks hadn't ventured that far was anyone's guess, but the reason was likely buried in plain sight: the terrain.
