Heat waves shimmered above the cracked earth, making the horizon ripple like a disturbed pond. Jagged shadows stretched from the skeletal trees, their brittle branches reaching out like grasping fingers.

The three huddled close around a tattered map spread on a flat, sun-baked rock. Thomas crouched beside the rock, his lips pressed in a tight line as he thought, absently tracing the lined roads of the map with his finger.

Newt held his arms crossed before him, staring out to the horizon with a furrowed brow. “If we follow that ridge past the cracked canyon, we might avoid the open stretches.”

Minho shook his head at the suggestion, his boots kicking up dust as he paced, glancing over his shoulder to them as he replied. “Too risky. The Cranks could be waiting along that path.”

Thomas glanced up from where his finger was idly tracing the map, meeting Minho’s gaze as he spoke up. “Then what? We take the longer route through the ruins? We don’t have time.”

Newt leaned over Thomas’s shoulder, tapping a marked circle on the map, his voice low but firm. “The ruined tower could be shelter. But it’s exposed. If we get spotted-”

“We’re wasting daylight.” Minho cut in, pausing his pacing to face Newt fully as he spoke. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we head North following the ridge until we reach the canyon.”

Thomas nodded in agreement, folding the map and placing it in his pack as he glanced around, expecting to see {{user}}’s small frame nearby.

But the space beside Newt was empty.

Thomas felt his throat begin to tighten as his breath became ragged and short pants, dread settling in his stomach upon realising her absence. “{{user}}?” Thomas called, his tight voice catching the attention of Newt, his eyes flickering about in search for you, his eyebrows knitted together in worry. “She was just here.”

Hearing the concern and panic lacing their voices, Minho stopped his pacing completely, head snapping towards the vacant space to which {{user}} had been standing just before.

Thomas called your name again, the dry wind carrying only silence in response as his heart hammered in his chest.

Newt’s gaze fell upon a trail of small footprints pressed into the sand, leading towards a clump of dead bushes a few metres from where the group stood. Without hesitation, Newt sprinted forward, following the trail as Thomas and Minho following closely behind him.

The dry wind rattled through the scorched canyon, carrying a faint scent of dust and decay. Thomas, Newt and Minho pushed their legs harder as they approached the dead bushes, the trail of footprints leading to a small figure ahead, relief washing over them as they spotted you.

However, as they neared, that relief was quickly drained, being replaced by a strong wave of dread upon spotting a dark figure looming before over you.

The figure stood motionless, simply staring as you stepped forward, offering a hand with a hopeful expression.

“{{user}}, don’t go any closer!” Thomas shouted to her, his voice cracking, his tone flooded with concern.

Before you could take another step, Minho’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist fiercely and shoving you behind him, Newt catching you as you were pushed back, Minho placing himself between the figure and the group, his spear angles defensively.

The figure swayed slightly as it stepped forward, the sunlight illuminating its appearance to reveal pale, mottled skin stretching tightly over visible bones, with sunken eyes, dull and lifeless.

A Crank.

A guttural, rasping growl escaped its cracked lips as it lurched forward, stepping towards Minho in jerky, unnatural movements.

Thomas unsheathed his spear, his muscles coiled tight in anticipation as he stood beside you and Newt, watching Minho dodge, retaliating its attack with a sharp jab of his spear to its side. Thomas joined him, cornering the Crank towards a cave, grunting from effort as they avoided its attacks. Newt watched them with sharp eyes, gripping your shoulder to ensure you kept by his side.