DRY PLANET

Chapter 8 – The Followers

DRY PLANET

by Manilyn Nalaunan

They were no longer alone.

Elsie noticed them first—shapes trailing in the distance, shifting through the dunes like shadows that refused to fade. At first she thought it was her imagination, tricks of heat and exhaustion. But when she stopped to squint against the glare, she saw them clearly: thin figures moving cautiously, always keeping just far enough to avoid notice, yet never letting the distance grow too wide.

“Maru,” she whispered, tugging his sleeve. “We’re being followed.”

He turned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his knife. His eyes narrowed at the wavering shapes. “Scavengers?”

Elsie shook her head. “If they meant to attack, they would’ve already. They’re watching us.”

For three days, the shadows remained. At dawn, they appeared on the horizon. At dusk, they melted into the sand, only to return again when the sun rose. Elsie could feel their eyes like prickling thorns at the back of her neck.

On the fourth day, the shadows drew closer.

A woman was the first to step forward. She was gaunt, her cheeks hollow, her lips cracked white with thirst. A child clung to her hand, his eyes wide and glassy, his body so thin Elsie could see the bones beneath his skin. Behind them trailed a ragged group—men, women, children, some carrying sacks of scraps, others nothing but the clothes that hung like rags from their shoulders.

Maru stiffened, his voice low. “We can’t take them with us.”

Elira’s chest ached as she looked at the woman and child. “We can’t drive them away either.”

The woman fell to her knees in the sand, pulling her child close. “Please,” she croaked, her voice no stronger than a dying flame. “You carry a map. We saw it. We heard you speak of water. Let us follow.”

Elira’s breath caught. She turned on Maru. “They know.”

His jaw tightened. “Then they’ll spread word. Every scavenger, every thief in the desert will come hunting.” He stepped forward, his voice hard. “We have nothing to give you. Turn back.”

The woman bowed her head, silent tears streaking her dust-stained face. Around her, the others shifted—some murmuring in protest, others staring hollow-eyed at Elsie and Maru. The child whimpered softly, his lips pressing to the empty flask at his mother’s belt.

Elsie knelt in the sand, reaching out to steady the boy. His skin was hot, his eyes fever-bright. He would not last long without water. She looked into the mother’s pleading face and felt her resolve harden.

“They stay,” Elsie said quietly.

Kael’s eyes flashed. “Elsie—”

“They stay,” she repeated, her voice firm. She turned to the group, raising her voice enough for all to hear. “We don’t know if the spring is real. We don’t know if this map will lead us anywhere. But if we find it—if there’s even a chance—it will not be mine alone. You may come. But you must understand: this road is death for the unprepared. Many of us may not survive.”

A murmur spread through the group. Some faces lit with hope; others darkened with fear. A man with sunken cheeks spat into the sand. “We’ll die if we turn back anyway. Better to follow the promise of water than wait for thirst to kill us.”

From the back of the group, another voice rang out, sharp and strong. “Promises don’t fill flasks. Who are you to lead us?”

The crowd parted, and a man stepped forward. His hair was streaked with gray, though his face was unlined. His eyes gleamed like polished stone, cold and assessing. He smiled, a thin curve of lips that never reached his gaze.

“My name is Darius,” he said. “And I have wandered these wastes longer than most here have drawn breath. If there is a path to water, I will find it. But I would see with my own eyes the proof you claim to carry.”

Elira’s hand went instinctively to her boot, where the half-map was hidden. Maru stepped in front of her, his stance protective, his knife glinting faintly in the sun.

“There is no proof,” Maru said flatly. “Only hope. If you want to follow, you do it at your own risk. But no one touches what belongs to us.”

Darius studied him for a long moment, then inclined his head slightly. “So be it. We will follow, then, and see where your hope leads.”

The tension hung thick, heavy as the heat. Finally, Elsie rose to her feet and nodded. “Then we move. Together.”

The group shuffled into motion, their ragged line stretching across the sands. Some clung to one another for strength, others walked silently with eyes downcast. Elsie kept her gaze forward, her chest heavy with the weight of their trust.

That night, as the group huddled beneath makeshift tents of cloth and bone, Elsie and Maru sat apart. The fire they had managed to light sputtered weakly against the wind. Kael’s voice was tight with anger.

“You’re risking everything,” he said. “We can’t even keep ourselves alive, and now you’ve tied us to them. What happens when we run out of food? When the water flask runs dry? Do you think they’ll starve quietly while we keep walking?”

Elsie met his gaze, her eyes shadowed by the flames. “What happens if we find the spring, Maru? What then? Do we hoard it for ourselves while others die? That’s what the Council does. That’s why the world is broken.” She shook her head. “If the spring is real, it was never meant for just us.”

Maru looked away, his jaw working. At last he muttered, “You sound like a dreamer.”

She gave a faint, weary smile. “Maybe that’s what the desert needs.”

From the shadows, Darius watched them. His expression was unreadable, his eyes glinting in the firelight. When Elsie finally lay down to rest, her dreams restless and full of whispering water, Darius remained awake.

He was not a man who believed in dreams. He believed in power.

And if the girl truly carried the path to the spring, then that power would one day be his.