Naaghai Lowlands Rattus rattus

Thiago, high on the last remnants of their green supply, stumbles through the desert, his senses dulled yet heightened by the drug. The sun's relentless glare blurs into a haze of heat, and the once-familiar desert now twists and warps around him.

He shrinks away, his true nature revealed in his reaction. A low, unsettling laugh bubbles up from his chest, growing slightly manic before fading as he moves in a wide arc away from Carlos. His erratic movements are accompanied by chattering to himself; he mutters a blend of prayer and wishful thinking, as though casting a spell. He clings to his superstitious beliefs, which have intensified under the influence of the drug. He knows he needs more of the green to truly connect with the spirits.

"¡El jefe! Voy a encontrar al jefe. Carlos, espérame. ¡Baila, mantén la paz con los espíritus!" Thiago's voice is a mix of desperation and disjointed resolve, a plea to the hallucinations and a promise to his brother. The words tumble out in a jumbled, almost frantic tone as he stumbles away, seeking out the elusive figure who might hold the key to their salvation.

His voice, quivering and uneven, rises above the whispering winds—but it is nonsense, and beyond that it dwindles with the distance as he cuts across the wasteland.