On the dune, Kafka's eyes shimmered in the clear moonlight.
She murmured:
"We never gave up on him, not once. How could he give up on himself?"
Beside her, Silver Wolf said:
"He probably had no choice. He was up against Aeons, after all."
"Aeons?" Kafka's gaze turned cold, and she said no more.
Silver Wolf fell silent too, merely kicking a pebble on the ground.
The pebble slid down from the top of the dune, dragging countless grains of sand along with it.
If that pebble were big enough, it would probably bring the entire dune crashing down.
The desert night was brief.
When the sky began to pale, the two inside the truck had been asleep for less than five hours.
The chill was gradually fading. Before long, the air would turn hot and dry again.
Silver Wolf walked up to the truck, tapped the door with the Short Spear in her hand, and said:
"Up, up!"
"It's morning already? I'm so sleepy. I don't feel like I got enough sleep. Not nearly enough." Stelle yawned, her eyes bleary.
March 7th, who was sitting on her lap, woke up too and remarked:
"It's so rare for me to get up early. I always sleep in on the Express. Hehe, my sleep schedule's getting healthier."
She pushed open the door and hopped down, then stood there stretching and loosening her limbs.
Inside the truck, however, Stelle's expression changed.
"Where are my legs?" Stelle cried in panic. "I can't feel my legs!"
At the sight, Silver Wolf couldn't help smiling a little as she said:
"That's hilarious. I was going to say something yesterday. With her sitting on you all night like that, your legs were bound to go numb. Sure enough."
"And you're enjoying this!" Stelle fumed, but