The food truck rolls down a dirt road through grey, overcast countryside. Dust rises behind it. The sky is heavy and threatening.

Erine pulls into a small village. The well is cordoned off with torn cloth. People cluster weakly in the square.

Erine ladles soup into wooden bowls. Helena watches from inside the truck. The villagers eat desperately.

The village square is empty. Clean bowls sit stacked on the serving counter. Erine's fuel gauge ticks up visibly.

The truck hits the road again. Night falls. Erine drives through darkness, headlights cutting through.

Dawn breaks over a long column of refugees on the road. Wagons broken down, people slumped against carts. A mother holds an infant.

Erine works the serving window relentlessly. Helena helps from inside, passing bowls. The line never ends.

The refugee column has moved on. Erine sits alone in the truck cab, staring at the fuel gauge.

The truck travels to a roadside checkpoint. A prison transport sits abandoned — guards gone, prisoners weak.

Erine breaks the lock with tools from her subspace pantry. She passes food through the bars to the prisoners.

Late night. Erine in the truck's tiny kitchen, washing bowls. Helena watches from the doorway.

Erine finishes washing. She stands at the sink, head bowed. A single tear falls into the basin.

Helena approaches quietly. She stands beside Erine, not touching, just present.

Erine wipes her face. She tries to answer but the words catch.

Erine's voice breaks. She admits the truth.

Helena speaks. Her voice is quiet, but certain.

The scene shifts. A dark room. A candlelight. A hand seals a letter with black wax.

Close on the letter. The handwriting is elegant. The contents are damning.

A messenger on horseback rides through darkness. The letter is secured in a satchel.

Back to the truck. Erine and Helena in the cab. Night. The fuel gauge glows.

Erine speaks. Her voice is flat. The corporate-deadpan is back.

Helena asks the question. Her voice is steady.

Helena sees through the lie. She doesn't call it out. She just waits.

The truck pulls back onto the road. Dawn breaks. The horizon is dark and uncertain.