She blinked as a migraine set in.
His eyes sliced to her as if sensing her growing distress.
They then went to her med kit.
The message was clear.
She moved to it and retrieved her pain pills, then eyed him as she chugged them down with the water bulb he handed to her.
Questions flooded her mind.Who was he? Was he a local?
She doubted it because he didn’t fit the descriptions of Tansinians she was aware of.
He carried an air of familiarity with the modern world, yet somehow he also seemed imbued with the ancient, from his leather gear to his wild hair.
Did he ever talk aloud,she wondered even as he packed reserve rations into her small backpack and pressed it into her hands.
It appeared he preferred silence as he gathered the rest of her clothes, medical supplies, boots, her kit, and rolled them into an emergency tent tarpaulin.
He scavenged it from the hold, securing it with practiced efficiency.
Her eyes widened as he hoisted the massive bundle onto his back without strain.
He tipped his chin toward the rising hills and started walking.
Panic flared, then receded as reality settled.
Fokk, she had no choice.
She followed him, grateful the pain meds were starting to kick in.
They left the dunes behind and began to climb.
The land shifted beneath their feet, sand giving way to scrub, then stone.
He moved close to her, looming tall and monolithic, matching her slow speed.
He remained silent, offering a calloused hand whenever the terrain demanded it.
He hoisted her over boulders and guided her across narrow streams that sliced cold through the dark rock.
As the brush thickened and the trees rose into a dense, interlocking canopy, the path angled steeply toward the distant hills.
She kept pace through sheer, stubborn will, relying on the quiet confidence of her physical conditioning.
She and her sister Selene had always pushed their limits while living on Dunia, exploring the planet’s mountains and rugged seascapes, hiking, swimming, and surfing the wild southern oceans.
Her nursing shifts sustained her on her feet for twelve-hour cycles, and she still favored a trek home over the sterile hum of a maglev ride.
Consequently, her lungs remained strong and her legs conditioned.
Still, this climb pulled deep into her reserves.
Sweat slicked her spine, soaking into the fabric of her shirt.
Despite the meds, a rhythmic throbbing ignited behind her temples.
Her attention drifted in and out as the concussion pressed against her consciousness, and a migraine bloomed with agonizing rapidity.
