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Night 2 of the Drekkal'Zuun
The cold creeps in. The Martian night stretches long and brittle. Every sound is sharper now. Every silence, heavier.

The Venling jerks awake. The nightmares are worse tonight. Sadbread moves closer without a word, resting a hand on its shoulder. The Venling doesn’t speak, and it doesn’t pull away.

Glade and The Boopiter lie side by side beneath an arch of Martian stone. Their fingers brush once. Then they hold hands. Neither of them says why.

Suchomimos convinces Bexxi to share warmth. She hesitates - then nods. They curl together in silence, their backs to the wind.

Cynamity and The Mercurii share the same resting spot. They don’t speak, but their hands find each other’s in the dark.

Feminem climbs a jagged rock formation and tucks herself between branches of a tree. She watches the stars.

Toraix stays awake, unmoving. He is watching the distant flicker of small campfires.

The Glimloop spends the night whispering to something in its hands - a fruit? A rock? A memory? It giggles softly at intervals, then shushes itself. It hasn’t blinked in hours.

Day 3 of the Drekkal’Zuun
The Martian morning arrives. The air tastes of metal and dust.

Toraix sits on a rock formation, staring into the horizon. His eyes are distant. He’s not watching for danger - not today. He’s thinking about home.

Elsewhere, The Mercurii and Cynamity sneak in on The Glimloop’s camp. It’s a mess of gathered fruit, scattered symbols scratched into the dirt, and half-finished tools.
The Glimloop isn’t there. It’s hunting. By the time it returns, its stash is gone. The drawings are smeared.

Suchomimos and Bexxi are searching looking for tributes, looking for supplies.

Feminem walks along the cracked stone wall, when she hears something - the faint trickle of water. She follows it to a narrow stream. She cups her hands. Drinks. Then just sits for a while.

Glade and The Boopiter spend the morning in a quiet crater, sorting what supplies they have left. the Boopiter's ankle still aches, but Glade helps it bind it tighter.

Sadbread and The Venling rest beneath a slanted metal slab. Sadbread sharpens a stone blade. The Venling hums something tuneless and strange