I feel Mia get out of the bed, and I sigh with solid disbelief. It’s tricky to open my eyes—the world is just a field of blurred colors at the moment.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Mia says.

"Don't be." I rub my eyes. "We still have to hit the desert today."

"True. Are you feeling back up to it?" She takes a drink from the pale canteen we’ve been sharing.

"Yeah. I am." I smile softly.

"You know, we will get through this, right?" Mia says.

"You say that more for your own comfort than for mine," I laugh.

"I suppose you’d be right about that." Mia admits.

We both start puttering around camp, packing things so they’ll be easier to set up again tonight. The efficiency of it is almost mesmerizing—the way technology folds in on itself, seamlessly returning to its dormant state. It still amazes me, even after seeing it a dozen times.

Mia snatches up the tech and stows it away. I keep my electric whip handy on my belt, and we head out, Mia using a thing called G.P.S.—a weird little square she seems to trust more than her own instincts.

"So, how does that work?" I ask.

"I’m not too sure. Maybe the satellites didn't have people on them," Mia suggests.

"I see. So what's a satellite?"

"Pre-war tech. Supposed to help share information across the world."

"What kinds of information, I wonder?" I say without expecting an answer.

Mia goes quiet, and the pause stretches. The wind howls around us, grains of sand pelting against my face, making this silence feel endless. I glance at her—she’s thinking hard. Does she even know? Or is she just struggling with the weight of the old world, trying to piece together fragments of knowledge from before everything turned to ash?

We keep walking. The sun drags itself across the sky, slow and merciless. Each step grinds sand deeper into my boots, each breath tastes of dust. The pain in my legs has dulled to a distant throb—either I’m getting used to it, or I’ve just stopped caring. Mia glances at me now and then, probably checking if I’m still conscious. This journey never ends. Just heat, sweat, and thirst clawing at my throat like an animal that won’t die.

"You know, even though we don’t talk much, it’s nice having you around, Etha," she says, and I nearly stop in my tracks from the shock.

"I feel the same. We don’t have to speak constantly to be comfortable."

"Well, I guess it's almost time to start setting up camp."

I feel a little awkward. We’ve built a closeness since reuniting in Basha, but this level of comfort still surprises me. My little slice of desert couldn't compare to this.

"You know, since we met, life has been nothing but a crazy adventure." I laugh.

"Oh?" She sounds almost disappointed.

"No, I mean you made my life more lively. More... enjoyable." I try to correct myself.

She falls silent, chewing over my words, and I hate when she wears that look—like she’s dissecting every syllable. Maybe I need a bigger vocabulary.

"I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Mia. I like being around you."

It stays quiet for a little. Sometimes, silence is just natural between us. That and half the time, we’re being bombarded by sand.

"How much farther should we go before stopping?" Mia asks.

I glance at the sky—the sun is already halfway over the horizon. I nod. "Let’s camp here tonight."

She stops at the same time I do, and we laugh. She tosses out the campsite gear, and it assembles automatically. It still amazes me, but it’s starting to feel routine.

"Alright. We need to figure out something to eat," Mia sighs as she sits by the fire pit.

"I never thought about that back in New Boston."

We both sigh deeply, realizing we should’ve packed more food. Mia digs through her pack and pulls out rations.

"Desperate times." She hands me a square, hard piece of bread.

"Thanks." I take it, biting in. It’s tough—like chewing on stone—but my hunger wins. My mouth floods with saliva as I try to soften it. Across from me, Mia struggles with hers too, turning red when she notices me watching.

"What kind of bread is this?" I mumble through a mouthful.

"Ration bread. Meant to last a long time."

I nod, still chewing. It has a faint sweetness but is otherwise bland, like eating parchment. Still, it fills the gnawing emptiness in my stomach.

The night stretches over us, folding the daylight away. I nod toward the tent and head inside. Mia follows, finishing off her portion of the rations.

"We’re probably another day or two out from St. Lawrence Canyon," she says.

"Really?"

"That’s about the halfway point. We’ll be alright."

She says it like she’s reassuring herself, not me. When we get to Old Ottawa, we can search for Project Purity. If we can activate this ancient tech, we might be able to change the very face of the Badlands.

"We can change life here forever," I murmur.

"Yeah. Together."

"I’ll keep you safe as best I can."

"And I’ll do the same."

"So, we stick together through everything," I sigh with a smile.

Mia exhales. "When we get back, we’ll probably be known as heroes. Are you prepared for that?"

I hesitate. "I don’t know. Being buried underground was one thing, but a crowd? I can’t say I’ll ever be ready for that. But I’ll try."

The idea of us becoming heroes is surreal. I only hope we succeed—hope that soon, we’ll have clean, safe water. Maybe even crops. Who knows what else lies buried beneath the Badlands?

"We could make life easier for everyone. Our names might last for generations." She exhales, almost lost in thought.

For once, her eyes aren’t heavy with burden. They’re filled with **hope**.

"To think, we might even get a reward." She grins. "Etha, we could get a home in New Boston and live easy for years if they give us even a fraction of the tech’s value!"

I smile softly. Then it dawns on me—she means a home together.

The realization slams into me like a bullet ricocheting in my skull. Does she mean it like... just two survivors settling down? Or does she mean something more?

I glance at her, searching for a sign, but she just waits expectantly, like she hasn’t just thrown my world off its axis. My throat feels tight, and for once, I don’t know what to say.

Would I want that?