Luneshale Pass libertad en cadenas

Thiago’s gaze shifts over the bundle of plants Beau has gathered, his eyes sharp despite the haze of fatigue.

Yarrow, first. Not useful for what the addict seeks; but useful for something. Fireweed, dandelion he scrutinizes next. They're better than nothing.

Eyes land on the garlic shoots mingled among some weeds. Thiago recalls tales of its power to invigorate the spirit. To ward off dangers he knows to be real— and he hastily swipes this for himself.

He examines the pile more closely after that, trembling. With a grunt of frustration he draws his fist through the pile and crushes what he hasn't already taken, breathing raggedly and withdrawing in to himself after that. Erupting with expletives: ¡Mierda! Maldita sea. Seething.

It isn't enough. It isn't anything close to the "green".

He needs Juarez.