Starglow Basin el espíritu verde

Thiago’s gratitude spills out in a frenzied torrent, a sharp contrast to the oppressive calm of the desert. He babbles, his voice a stuttering mess of relief and confusion.

¡Sí, sí, lo haré, lo encontraré y lo traeré! ¡Gracias! ¡Oh, gracias! Dios mío. he exclaims, his joy mingled with disorientation. He shuffles in place, a grotesque dance of manic relief and fractured reality. His laughter is thin and hollow, a brief flicker of mirth in the suffocating heat.

With a final glance over his shoulder, he turns his back on Niño and stumbles away. His mind races, a jumbled blur of thoughts and half-remembered directions. The world around him warps and sways as he seeks out his brother, his purpose now a single-minded drive to find Carlos. His memories are a fractured mosaic, the specifics of Carlos’s location slipping through his digits like grains of sand.

Thiago moves with the desperate determination of a man who has lost everything but hope. He lurches forward, his steps uneven, the burning sun casting harsh shadows that dance mockingly in his path. His need for the medicine that will save his brother drives him onward, even as his mind falters and the desert swallows him, shadow and all.