"Oh," says Yvette, who also softens. "Oh no. Okay, um."

She's going to immediately get to finding a blanket or something to cover up the poor kid's probable parents, so he doesn't. Have to look at them.

Morgan stares with an unreadable expression, then says, "I'm going to check outside for tracks or whatever."

And then she turns and leaves to go do that.

It's the middle of the desert, there's probably not going to be any, but then again she did manage to find the slavers so.

Anyway, yeah, let's try to get this kid out of this place filled with the smell of their parents' blood.

The kid is reluctant at first but when nothing bad happens they follow along.

There is in fact, absolutely no sign of any retreat after the murders, even to their resident apparent-tracker.

So for lack of any kind of better idea, they can in fact bury the poor souls who were apparently murdered in their own home, almost in front of their child.

Morgan stays out of it, instead lighting up a cigarette and smoking at a removed distance, looking vaguely irritated. She will not be paying any kind of respects or cooing over the kid or anything.

That's okay, Zash can do the worrying about the kid thing. He does have a way with kids, usually, and he's been around his fair share of kids who have lost their parents recently.

The kid looks like they don't particularly want to... talk. They don't give their name, and at best answer questions with nods or shakes of their head.

That's okay. They don't need to talk if they don't want to. No one's going to ask this of them.

"We're on our way to Terminal," he says, gently. "Would you like to come with us?"

Nod.

Yvette is also hovering anxiously over the poor traumatized child.

"Is... there anything from here you'd like to take with you?" she asks, softly. "Before we go?"

Probably it's bad wasteland manners to not immediately loot the place, but. But. .... she doesn't particularly want to.

The kid looks a bit uncertain...

But Zash immediately looks up, his face blanching, and cries, "Run!"

He picks the kid up in a bridal carry and starts running.

Um! Yeah okay sure she can do some running she will be following Zash because he seems to have literally any idea what they're running from.

"Figures," sighs Morgan from her spot on the sidelines, dropping her cigarette. Then, because she sees where this is going, she grabs her gun cross and runs towards the danger instead of away.

There isn't much of a "towards", here; the danger is centered right under them, and they cannot, in fact, run fast enough to escape it, so really almost any direction Morgan could go in is towards. There's a tremour, a lurching feeling as something like a sinkhole appears directly underneath them, and then four towering fleshy pincers of a gargantuan sandworm emerge from the sands around them before they close up above them and it swallows them whole.

WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS THIS A THING!

Ughhhhhhhhh.

The interior of the worm, for the record, smells awful. Furthermore, it is slimey and gross, and dark, and whatever air there is to breathe is stale. They're probably lucky that there's air at all.

Morgan has a lighter. She flicks it on. It's not the only light in the belly of the beast that has currently eaten them, because there are several glowing juvenile worm-spawn flying around in here, but it is a more immediate light source than any of those.

"You all okay?"

"Nmrrghagh???"

"Taking that as a yes. Zashy-kins! What about you?"

"I'm fine. Kid! Are you alright?" At some point during the fall he dropped the kid so he starts frantically looking for them.

"Mmmngh," the kid moans from where they fell on, in between two fleshy mounds of the inside of the worm.

"Oh thank goodness," he says, rushing over to the kid and dropping down to one knee to check on them.

They seem alright. Shaken up some, maybe bruised somewhere not visible, but they don't seem very terribly hurt.