The wind over the Badlands didn’t just blow; it hunted. It scoured the red rock, searching for moisture, for warmth, for anything living.
Archer backed up, his boots scraping against the stone. He knew he couldn't outmuscle it, and clearly, he couldn't shoot it. He had to use the Badlands.
The wind over the Badlands didn’t just blow; it hunted. It scoured the red rock, searching for moisture, for warmth, for anything living.
Archer backed up, his boots scraping against the stone. He knew he couldn't outmuscle it, and clearly, he couldn't shoot it. He had to use the Badlands.