The heat felt thicker here. It wasn't just the sun — it was the kind of heat that blends with tension, that clings to your skin and makes every breath feel like a mistake. The road ahead, until now deserted, was now partially blocked by three mounted figures and two more on foot, all of them wearing the expression of men who didn't believe in coincidences — much less in lone travelers with genuine luck.
My eyes swept the scene before a single word was spoken. The larger rocks off the roadside... good for ambushes. The tall brush to the north probably hid more people. Their horses were thin, but well-outfitted. They weren't just hunting for coins. They were used to intimidation. To collecting.
"Stay where you are," one of them shouted, his voice rough — like it had been sanded down by smoke and bad intentions.
