Arrival

As the convoy rumbled forward, the landscape changed, signaling their approach to the White Desert.

The once dense forest that had enveloped them for days thinned out, like a painter meticulously erasing strokes from a canvas. The trees grew sparser and more scattered, their branches reaching out like bony fingers, their leaves losing their autumn hues, fading to a weary, muted color.

As the forest reluctantly receded, it left behind a stark transition zone. The ground beneath their feet shifted to something harsh and unforgiving.

The last remnants of the forest seemed to cling to the edge of the terrain, their roots buried deep, as if reluctant to venture any closer to the arid wasteland beyond.

The ground beneath the tires turned from the bare earth to a mixture of gravel and sand, crunching in a different tone as they moved. More importantly, the chance of being seen by flying Thaids grew significantly.