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"Shaman! When do you think we'll find water?"

A little girl whose entire body was red looked at the young man beside her and asked curiously.

"Fire, it should be soon! The last guidance the totem gave us pointed this way. As long as we keep moving forward, we'll find water sooner or later."

The young man called Shaman had skin much like the little girl's, but his arms, exposed beneath the burlap covering, were densely packed with wounds. Some had already scabbed over, while others had begun to petrify.

"Shaman! Someone else has fainted!" A shout suddenly came from behind. Shaman licked his cracked lips and looked at the sky.

"Is it almost noon already?"

As he murmured, Shaman tore off a small piece of flesh from his arm. Before Fire's eyes, it transformed into a bit of damp soil carrying moisture and fiery energy.

"Fire, take this and feed it to that person. We'll rest for a while. Once the Sun begins to set, we'll continue on our way!"

After giving Fire a few instructions, Shaman raised his head and called to the surrounding tribespeople. He tapped the ground with the wooden staff in his hand, opening a fairly large pit and guiding the tribespeople inside.

Looking at the damp soil in her hand, the little girl named Fire had a trace of longing rise in her eyes, but she knew this was meant to save a life.

The moment Fire took the soil, a faint current of air rose from her palm, locking in the pitifully scarce moisture within. Then, carefully moving against the flow of the crowd, she carried it toward the back.

Along the way, everyone who brushed past Fire could not help staring at her palm, greed and longing spilling from their eyes.

Seeing