Victor was already moving. "How many."
"One," Damien said. "Watching."
They waited.
The man stepped out from behind a rusted fuel tank, hands raised, posture careful. Mid-thirties. Scarred. Armed but not twitchy.
"Didn't mean to spook you," he said. "Saw the light earlier. Figured you weren't dead."
Felicity blinked. "What light?" Damien glanced at her.
Then away.
Victor crossed his arms. "You alone."
"For now," the man said. "Team's a mile back. We trade information. Food if you're generous."
Felicity reached into Victor's space without thinking, pulling out wrapped bars and passing them over.
The man's shoulders sagged in relief.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "You heading north?"
"Yes," Victor answered.
The man hesitated. "That basin? People don't leave it anymore."
"Why."
"They tried," the man said. "Didn't come back."
Damien watched him carefully. Too carefully.
