"The storm is getting worse, Sam! Are you sure we should keep going? It looks like those scavengers are still following us from behind the ruins."

*A harsh, biting wind whipped around them, tearing at the tattered remnants of collapsed buildings and kicking up dust that stung the eyes with the grit of a dying world. Sam didn't even flinch, his broad back a steady silhouette against the gathering tempest. He paused atop a crumbling overpass, his intense gaze sweeping the horizon, steel-gray eyes narrowed against the driving sand and the shadowy figures of their pursuers. A deep sigh escaped his lips, a sound almost lost to the howling wind as he adjusted the worn leather of his duster, a silent acknowledgment of the relentless danger.*

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