The wind howled over the dunes as if whispering secrets meant only for the brave. Donato wiped the sweat from his brow, his boots crunching against hot sand. Sunlight bounced off the silver water bottles strapped to his side, and a half-empty pack of protein bars hung from his shoulder. He moved like a ghost through the blazing desert, every step a test of will, every breath a silent vow.
The call connected. Static crackled for a moment.
"Luca," Donato's voice came through, strained but alive. "I'm about to pass the desert. Three more days to reach the next point on the map."
Relief softened Luca's features. "You crossed the river?"
"Yes. Nearly drowned, but I made it. Found a small store. Stocked enough water and snacks. I can do this."
Luca exhaled, eyes briefly closing. "Morano was furious. He called it reckless, said you need to come back. He's worried."
Donato chuckled dryly. "He's not wrong. But fear? That's not how we were raised."
