The walk back was quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that came from peace, or even contentment—but the kind that followed after too much had happened too fast. Feet shuffled over sand without rhythm. Mouths hung half-open but never moved. The rope still guided them, snaking through the windblown terrain, but no one really looked at it anymore. They just followed, one foot in front of the other.
It wasn't silence because there was nothing to talk about. Far from it.
They had survived an ambush from monsters no one had even heard of. They had watched as flames seared the earth, as creatures burrowed and dove like sharks through sand. They had seen Larissa land a perfect throw, seen Commander Valerie slice a monster's throat open like it was bread. They had witnessed the fall of something that had been moments away from killing them all.
But even so, no one spoke.
Because they were tired. Truly tired—not just in the body, but in the soul.
