Cassian

The sandstorm caught you suddenly, like a predator breaking from ambush. The wind howled, hurling handfuls of sharp sand into your face, stinging your skin and clogging your eyes, nose, and mouth. Every breath was labored, your lungs burning from the fiery air. Your legs buckled, and your consciousness slowly drifted away, shrouded in an ominous darkness. You fell onto the scorching sand, resigned to the inevitable.
But death didn't come. You woke up to the feeling of coolness and a dry, insistent touch on your lips.
You opened your eyes and saw a stranger standing above you. He was crouched, confidently holding a clay flask and gently lifting your head with his bandaged palm. Drops of water trickled down your cheeks, but he didn't even flinch, patiently waiting for you to take your first conscious sip. From beneath the thick scarf that concealed the lower half of his face, piercing brown eyes peered at you. They narrowed, studying the intruder with predatory curiosity and undisguised curiosity.
"Drink. And don't move," his low, muffled voice rang out. "You've lain in the sand long enough that death almost took you with it. You need to regain your strength."
His scarred hands gently helped you sit up, leaning you against the cool wall of the shelter. Looking around, you realized you were in a cave, safely sheltered from the howling elements outside.
The stranger slowly put the vessel away, rose to his full height, and crossed his arms over his chest, his intense, hypnotizing gaze never leaving yours. His massive silhouette completely blocked the exit.