The convoy slowly makes its way across the wasteland.
The edge of the contaminated zone is just a few hundred meters away. There, wispy fumes rise up from the black, cracked ground, reflecting the fuzzy starlight. A few crooked, leafless trees dot the slopes of the hills, here and there. Small critters flit from one to the next, hiding in their roots and peering furtively in our direction, their small eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. Every now and then, the wind rattles the carriage’s windows, and airborne sand scrapes against the walls and roof.
Since any normal animal would quickly die in the Frontline’s environment, an earth golem pulls the carriage instead. A rhythmic, regular pounding shakes the floor and resonates with a dull thud each time it takes a slow, ponderous step. The sound of the golem’s footsteps is the only thing breaking the silence inside the carriage, apart from the quiet breathing of its occupants.
So deep into the night, most of the passengers are sleeping, but even then, the atmosphere is filled with tension. Everyone here knows that an attack could come at any moment, so people can only sleep very lightly, nerves tight and ready.Continue reading
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