Dren’s Wanderings

Dren sat atop his rebuilt construct, the mechanical beast humming softly as it padded through the endless, featureless Waste. The storm was nothing more than a faint, bruised smudge on the horizon, unnoticed against the oppressive stillness of his surroundings. He leaned back, stretching his arms out and letting the dry wind buffet his face.

“How much longer, buddy?” he asked his construct, patting its metallic flank. It didn’t answer, of course, but the subtle shift in its gait suggested it was either ignoring him or hadn’t quite figured out what he meant.

Behind him, the small caravan of salvaged parts rattled, lashed together by hasty knots and questionable engineering. Dren had been collecting fragments from the Waste, hoping they might be useful when he finally found… whatever it was he was looking for.