The desert night was unusually cold.
During the day, the scorching sun had made every breath painful, but once darkness descended, the temperature dropped sharply. The wind swept across the barren land, carrying dust into the makeshift shelters and stirring the dying embers of the campfires.
The Emperor sat beside the fire, carefully examining a small piece of dried fruit.
Across from him, the Empress was arranging the remaining herbal leaves inside a cloth pouch.
They had been separated from the second group for several days after the incident with the rogues. Although they had continued travelling with the refugees, the Emperor had been unable to stop thinking about the people who had gone in the other direction.
He looked towards the dark road.
"Do you think they have reached this region?"
The Empress raised her head.
"I hope so. They must have suffered quite a bit on the journey."
"You are worried about them."
"Of course I am. We have been separated for so many days."
