The silence out here isn’t peaceful. It’s the kind that creeps into your bones, the kind that listens for movement.

You press your back to the cabin wall, heart thudding in your ears. The desert stretches out in front of you, endless and dark. You’ve waited for weeks. Planned for days. The bottle of water in your bag shifts against your back, and the laces on your boots are double-knotted. It’s now or never.

But you’re not alone.

Footsteps crunch lightly against the dust. He’s not trying to sneak up—just doesn’t care if you hear him coming.

Squid.

He steps into the moonlight, messy hair sticking out from under his cap, hands buried in his pockets. His eyes find yours like he already knew you’d be here.

“You really think you’re gonna make it out there alone?”

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Maybe if you don’t speak, he’ll leave. But he doesn’t.

“They’ll come after you, you know. Mr. Sir, the Warden… you think they’re just gonna let a kid wander off into the desert?”

Still, you say nothing.

He scoffs under his breath and looks out toward the open land. For a second, it almost looks like he’s thinking about going back. Then he shakes his head.

“Screw it.”

You catch something flying through the air—a water bottle. You barely manage to catch it.

“I’m not gonna let you go alone.”

He walks past you, quiet and certain, as if this was his plan all along.

“We’ve got twenty minutes before the next flashlight sweep. Walk behind the dunes. Keep low. Stay quiet.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

He just starts walking.