His shouts were largely swallowed by the gale.
Wind and sand buffeted them from all directions. Charlie River handed him a towel to cover his mouth and nose. Everyone wore sunglasses; the bonfire had long since been extinguished.
They could only use powerful flashlights for illumination.
All food and water had been gathered together, and the Arabians had even led over their tall cals.
The cals were forcibly positioned around the tents, acting as windbreaks to ensure the light, fragile structures wouldn’t be blown away by the raging wind.
Inside the tent, Sophie Sullivan sat restlessly. Hearing the howling outside, a wave of fear washed over her.
Not to ntion humans, even the enormous cals were agitated by the wind and sand, whinnying as they struggled, trying to break free.
The Arabians struggled to control the cals. Several of them grew frantic, suddenly rearing up and spinning in place.
Wind-driven sand and rubble, carried by the gales, struck the tent with a relentless PITTER-PATTER.
The frantic cals began kicking at the tents, trying to trample over them.
"Ah!" Sophie scread.
Thomas Shannon rushed into the tent, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into his embrace. "What’s wrong?"
Sophie, shivering in his arms, raised her head. The lamp inside the tent cast a dim light on her pale face, her eyes unable to conceal her fear. "Will we die here?"
She didn’t want to lose her life here, not like this. She still had so much unfinished business. She didn’t know who her family was, or who had so cruelly hard her. She had to uncover her origins and find her enemies to exact revenge herself. She couldn’t die... Not yet...
Thomas Shannon held the back of her head with one hand, pressing her head into his embrace. Lowering his head, his thin lips close to her ear, he said firmly, "Don’t worry, I won’t let you die here."
His brief words, like a solemn vow, carried an imnse weight.
Everything else seed to fade into insignificance.
Sophie heard only Thomas Shannon’s voice in her ear, his words like a sworn promise.
Miraculously, she believed him.
She cald down. "What should we do now?"
"Stay in the tent. I won’t let anything happen to you."
Upon saying this, Thomas Shannon turned to leave.
Sophie grabbed his wrist. Thomas Shannon looked back at her, frowning, his deep eyes revealing no emotion.
He was still himself: Young Master Shannon, who faced everything with an air of absolute command.
Sophie could see no trace of panic or alarm on his face.
He was composed, calm, directing everything with unwavering steadiness.
Sophie swallowed hard and asked anxiously, "What about you?"
Thomas Shannon chuckled lightly. "I’ll be fine."
He gently pried her hand away and turned to leave the tent.
Outside, the cals’ neighing mingled with the howling wind. The incessant PITTER-PATTER of sand and gravel striking the tent created a terrifying symphony.
These sounds wove together, striking at the heart’s most fragile defenses.
Outside the tent, the powerful wind made it difficult to even stand.
Charlie River struggled to support Thomas Shannon while the other n in black worked with the Arabians to restrain the frantic cals, preventing them from bolting.
"Young Master!" Charlie River yelled, his voice strained. "Get inside, quickly! It’s dangerous out here!"
Thomas Shannon grabbed Charlie River by the collar and dragged him aside.
They had checked the weather forecast when making their plans; no sandstorms were predicted for the near future.
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