Cael stayed crouched behind the jagged metal slab, his body still and his breath measured. The faint sound of shifting weight on gravel carried on the wind, a subtle reminder that the world beyond the facility might not entirely dead, despite all apparent appearances. He adjusted his grip on the spear, the shaft humming faintly in his palm, a low electric vibration that seemed to sync with his pulse.
Through a split in the metal, he watched as the three figures crept down the fractured road, their shapes distorted by the shimmer of heat rising from the sunbaked ground. At first glance, they looked too young to be out here. Then again, so did he. They were not soldiers, that much was obvious. Their clothes were mismatched and dirty. One of them was even wearing an old raggedy coat as a makeshift cape.
They moved with the caution of people who had no desire to be out here.
[They are juveniles,] Nyx confirmed. [Pattern of behavior suggests low combat experience but high survival adaptation.]
"You think they're dangerous?" Cael whispered, eyes locked on the tallest of the three.
[That depends on your next move.]
He let out a slow breath and shifted back slightly. The ruined overpass above provided a good vantage point, but he could not stay hidden forever. If they came much closer, they would spot the trail of displaced gravel from his approach.
Cael looked down at himself, adjusting the coat he had taken from the storage locker. It hung awkwardly across his shoulders, still soaked in sweat and dirt from the escape. He did not exactly blend in so he needed to move, but he also needed to make sure he was not walking into more trouble.
The spear's weight was starting to feel familiar, the balance in his hands more natural than it had any right to be. He still did not understand how it worked, but he trusted the feeling it gave him. At the very least, it meant he would not be entirely defenseless.
Taking a breath, he stepped into view and predictably the group reacted instantly.
The youngest darted behind the largest, while another one, a narrow-faced kid fumbled with what looked like a converted nailgun rigged to a chunk of piping before aiming it at him.
"Easy," Cael said, raising one hand slowly, palm outward. He kept the spear pointed toward the ground. "I'm not looking for a fight."
The leader stepped forward, eyes narrowed, hand hovering near his waist where a jagged piece of scrap metal had been fashioned into a makeshift blade. His posture was clearly trying to exude some form of control, but his eyes betrayed the same wariness that echoed in Cael's chest.
"Did you come from that facility out in the sands?" the boy asked, his voice rough and cautious, his eyes flicking to the abandoned structure behind Cael.
"I walked out of it. That's all I'll say."
The boy took another step. His coat flared with the motion, revealing a chest rig made from cut cloth and broken plastic buckles. He could not have been more than seventeen, but he carried himself like someone who had not known peace in a long time.
"You got a name?"
"Cael."
The boy hesitated, then nodded. "Arlen." He looked back at the others, then returned his gaze to Cael. "You've got a weapon. That means either you know how to use it, or you're desperate enough to try."
"I'd say both," Cael replied.
One of the others, a girl with tangled braids and a makeshift belt of circuit boards, stepped forward slightly. "You don't look like one of the patrols. You're too clean."
Cael glanced down at himself. The coat covered most of him, but the way she said it made him realize just how out of place he still looked. Especially with the facility clothes he was wearing.
"Not as much as you might think," he said.
They watched him in silence for a few moments. Dust swirled around their feet. In the distance, the wind howled through broken steel frames like something alive.
[They are assessing threat viability,] Nyx said. [Your stance has not triggered retreat. That is promising.]
"Any reason you're following this road?" Cael asked finally.
Arlen tilted his head. "We're not following it. We're combing it. There's a crashed transport two clicks south. Last week someone said it still had coolant packs sealed in storage."
"And you believed that?"
"When you're thirsty enough, you believe anything."
There was no bitterness in his voice, merely acceptance.
Cael relaxed his stance a little. "I'm heading west. I'm not looking to take anything from you."
"That so?" Arlen studied him. "You know what's west?"
"No."
"That's where we came from. If you don't know about it, then you really aren't from these parts."
The group exchanged glances among themselves. The youngest kept looking at Cael's spear like it might move on its own. The girl with the circuit belt whispered something to Arlen that Cael couldn't make out.
Then Arlen gave a slight nod. "Alright. You're not trying to rob us. That puts you ahead of half the people we meet."
"I'll take that as a good sign."
"Even better, that spear of yours looks a lot better than any of the scraps we've got. You can walk with us, if you want," Arlen said. "You can give our group a little added protection and in return, we'll guide you back to where we came from."
Cael looked past him, to the wide-open stretch of cracked road and sun-blasted ruins beyond. The idea of traveling with strangers didn't sit well with him, but he didn't know the terrain, and Nyx had been giving fewer warnings now, letting him judge things on his own.
He nodded once. "That's fine by me. Lead the way."