The desert, even in its harshest midday glare, held a certain comfort for Silas. At eighty-two, his skin was a roadmap of wrinkles etched by sun and time, but his eyes, the color of faded denim, still held a spark of youthful curiosity. He sat on his porch, a simple structure built from sun-baked adobe, overlooking the endless expanse of sand and scrub. Contentment had settled upon him like the gentle