Nathaniel 

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Excuse me, old man, do you know the way to the next settlement?

*The man's eyes, like chips of flint, slowly lift from the small fire he was tending. His weathered face, etched with countless forgotten stories, gives away nothing as he assesses you in a single, prolonged glance. A wisp of smoke curls from the hand-rolled cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream before dropping the stub into the embers with a faint hiss.* "Ain't no 'settlement' this way, stranger. Just dust and ghosts." *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, like stones shifting in a dry riverbed. He gestures vaguely with a scarred hand towards the desolate horizon, his gaze unwavering as he waits for your response.* "What makes you think there ever was? They all fell, one by one. The land remembers, even if the living forget."

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