Over craters and collapsed trees, across puddles of murky water and steering clear of unexploded ordinance, an old man struggles to navigate through a ruined forest. His brow tight, his fingers gripping a scrap of paper. His steps are careful, and his eyes scan the surroundings.

Mountains rise high in the distance to his sides, and a steady, silent wind blows through the valley. The world is quiet, save the old man’s boots squelching the mud, or crunching a burnt stick. The animals have long since fled.

Exhaustion forces him to pause his trek. He turns to glance back the way he came, and there’s nobody there. He faces forward, but the dead landscape continues for miles.

Something hard taps the back of his head.

“Turn and you’re dead,” a young woman says casually.

The man stiffens but musters the courage to keep his voice steady. “I understand.” He tightens his fingers, crumpling the paper.

A young man speaks, “you came alone?”

“Just as… I was told.”

“Who told you?” The man asks.

“Friends. From far away.” The old man starts rolling his sentences together without stopping to breathe. “They knew that you were on this planet and heard a rumor that you were coming through this region and since they also knew my tribe was in trouble they sent a messenger bird to tell-“

The woman cocks her gun and taps the back of his head, “okay, shut up.” Based on the angle of the tap, she must be tall.

“What do you want from us?” The man asks.

The woman giggles, “he can sense lies, so unless you want to lose your head: don’t.”

The old man gulps. “My tribe. We need to pass through this valley. We can’t because the empire put up a-a listening station, or something similar, further up the way. There’re these artillery guns, which,” he sweeps his arm out, gesturing to the ruined landscape. “If we try to pass through, they’ll open fire.”

“Why not bribe the soldiers for passage?”

“We’re poor.”

“Why not go another way?”

“Every valley that crosses this mountain range is monitored. My people are exhausted, we either cross here, or don’t cross at all.”

“Why are you fleeing from this side of the mountains?”

The elder takes a moment to remember the instructions provided on his paper. “For… the same reason I imagine you’re heading there. We’re fleeing the war.”

“Hm.”

“So,” the woman says cheerily, “can I kill him?”

The old man remains calm, the instructions covered that this would happen.

“No,” he dismisses his partner. “Alright, sir. You want us to take out the listening station and the guns so your tribe can pass. What’s in it for us?”

“There’s a… ‘toadman’ commanding the station. He’s always there.”

A deep chortle escapes the young man’s lips as he slaps his knee. “That’s your pitch? We should go out of our way to save your tribe just because we’ll end up killing a gurant?”

The old man clenches his jaw. “That’s… what I was told. If it’s not enough-“

“Nah, forget it. Whoever told you that was spot on.” The man says happily. “Don’t worry, old man. We’ll clear that station for you. Give us two days before you move your people through.”

The old man lets out a slow breath. “Th-thank you.”

“Oh no,” the woman chuckles, “don’t thank us yet. Now that you’ve seen us, we need to kill you. Sorry, but you understand, right? No witnesses and all.”

The old man stiffens, his bottom lip trembling. But the note said the woman would threaten him like this. What she says is meaningless.

“She’s telling the truth, unfortunately,” the man confirms. “We have to protect ourselves, of course.”

The elder’s tired eyes widen. They’re actually going to kill him? He inhales sharply and nods his head in a frantic rattle. If this is what it takes for his tribe to flee to safety, then so be it. He won’t protest and give the two a reason to back out. Luckily, he already said his goodbyes to the tribe, just in case.

“Wait, really?” The woman asks.

“Hm?”

“Should I actually kill him?”

“Wha- no! Of course not, idiot. I was backing up your threat!”

“Oh. Well, thanks, Tammy!”

“Don’t just say my name in front of the guy, idiot! What’s wrong with you?”

“If he’s coming to us, he clearly knows who we are. Our wanted posters are everywhere.”

“It’s…!” Tammy’s voice softens. “Plausible deniability. He didn’t technically know who we are until you blurted it out.”

“I dunno, that seems silly. He probably has common sense.”

“First of all, we told him to tell his tribe to go through in two days. How would his tribe know if we killed him here? Clearly, he doesn’t have common sense. Second, he’s probably illiterate anyway and can’t read the wanted posters.”

“Ha! You’re saying he’s the one lacking common sense? He’s got a piece of paper in his hands with written directions! He’s obviously not illiterate.”

“You’re illiterate!” Tammy snaps. “Whatever,” he huffs, “let’s just get out of here.”

The gun is removed from the back of the old man’s head, and then there’s nothing. No bickering, no sloshing mud as they leave.

He waits a moment, then carefully turns around. There aren’t any footprints besides his own.

The old man takes a deep breath, then heads back to his tribe. “Two days before we can leave.” It’s best not to think about the odd couple too much. Those distant friends which set up the meeting assured him of their reliability.