32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJMipmvdtJDESERT OASIS NEAR GRASSLANDS -
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The desert wind scrapes across Metro’s face as Sally carries him forward, her hooves dragging through sand that shimmers like molten glass. His body sways in the saddle, every muscle trembling from exhaustion, fear, and the weight of what he has just escaped.
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Sally slows.
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Metro barely notices.
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The world is blurred into heat and silence until a massive lone tree appears ahead by a river creek — the tree is one of many crooked, wind‑bent, stubbornly alive in the wasteland.
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Sally stops beneath it.
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Metro slides off her back and collapsed to his knees, forehead touching the dry earth. His breath shakes. His vision tunnels. He lies down into a fall towards the sand, curling beside the roots as if the tree itself were sheltering him.
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His eyes close.
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And he slips into that strange place between waking and REM — the place where dreams breathe but reality still has a pulse.
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His spirit ears twitch.
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Something flutters around him.
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Then he feels something — tiny feet, tiny wings.
Sparrows hopping near his hands. Bluebirds perched on the low branches above him. Pigeons waddling in circles. Cardinals flash by like red sparks. Robins tilt their heads at him. Even a lone crow stands watching, silent and knowing.
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Metro doesn’t wake fully — but his spirit does.
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The birds chirp, rustle and nudge.
One pecks gently at his sleeve.
Another tugs a crumb towards his fingers.
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When Metro finally blinks awake, the birds scatter in a burst of color and wings.
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He sits up slowly.
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Before him lay a good amount crumbled cake, crushed berries, oats, seeds — a small feast scattered across the sandy roots as if the desert itself had fed him.
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His stomach growls.
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He eats desperately, hands shaking, crumbs sticking to his palms. Sweetness hits his tongue. Warmth spreading through his chest. He looks up at the sun and for the first time since fleeing, he smiles.
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Sally grazes quietly on the leftover oats, her tail flicking in the warm breeze.
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Metro rises unsteadily and jogs toward the desert’s edge where a thin creek cuts through the sand like a silver thread. He drinks what's left in his canteen and refills it, splashing water on his face, then returns to Sally — calmer, quieter, grounded.
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He eats again.
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And rests again.
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And when he wakes the second time, strength pulses through his limbs — not full strength, but enough. Enough to keep moving. Enough to survive.
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He mounts Sally without a word.
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Together, they travel on for hours into the widening horizon.
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HOURS LATER—
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South of Whispering Forest — The Rocky Cliffs
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The cliffs rise like broken teeth against the sky, jagged and ancient. Hidden caves dot the stone, their mouths dark and silent. The air smells of moss, cold rock, and the distant whisper of pine.
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Northwest of Lilly’s hut, the forest thins into a rugged slope. Metro moves through it like a shadow, blades drawn, hood low, every sense sharpened by exhaustion and instinct.
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A sound.
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A faint echo.
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A voice?
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A sob?
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Metro freezes.
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His blades lift.
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He steps toward the cave entrance — a narrow slit in the cliffside, half‑covered by hanging roots and creeping vines. The inside breathes cold air, damp and hollow.
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Metro enters.
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The darkness surrounds him while his footsteps echo.
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His breath fogs in the cold.
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Then he hears it clearly:
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Weeping.
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Begging.
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A man breaking.
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Metro moves deeper, blades raised, shoulders tense. Shadows pressed around him — not natural shadows, but whispering ones, curling like smoke around his ears.
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They hiss:
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“He betrayed you…”
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“He’s cruel…Kill him.”
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“You are the king now…The power is yours…”
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Metro’s jaw clenches.
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He cracks his neck aggressively, the sound echoing like a threat.
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His blades rise higher, gleaming faintly in the cave’s gloom.
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He pushes through the ghostly whispers.
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And then he sees him.
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and then Add to home screen.