In the city of Yasumin Nanmin Dosi, the main gateway city into the refugee lands of the Beastkin, the frigid breath of the desert wind swept through the skeletons of newly erected buildings, whispering tales of a fading desolation as it danced through the quiet, newly constructed streets. Beneath the dim glow of sporadic streetlamps, the city lay in nocturnal slumber, its tranquil streets a canvas for the unseen symphony of the night.

Yet, within this calm, the night was not without its own lively vignettes. Large buses, their frames adorned with the city's sleepy neon glow, traversed the roads, their destinations varied and mysterious. The hushed footsteps of the few nocturnal wanderers echoed faintly against the city's concrete veins.

In a secluded pocket of the city, a boisterous group of inebriated patrons spilled out of an establishment, their laughter and spirited banter harmonizing with the low hum of the desert wind. Drunk on revelry, they meandered towards the bus stop, weaving through the silent streets, their voices carrying echoes of merriment.

As the group approached the bus stop, their impromptu choir of laughter erupted into silly songs—odes to wine, women, and imagined wealth. The melody of their joy resonated through the stillness, creating a temporary rift in the quietude of the night.

Two buses arrived, bearing witnesses to the drunken revelry. Most patrons boarded the first awaiting bus, its engine humming with anticipation, while a few lingered, awaiting the others arrival—a matte green bus that emerged from the shadows, silent as a phantom.

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The green bus, like a silent specter, absorbed the remaining patrons before gliding away. It journeyed down the main road, and as the massive cityscape unfolded behind, it turned onto a narrower path. The road led to an imposing wall and a looming checkpoint, guarded by a building.

As the bus continued toward the wall, a signpost that read both a warning of the location and the punishment if the area was breached. As the bus slowed down, it passed by a large sign that read a warning of who controlled the area.

Approaching the grey building, a man emerged from the shadows, his silhouette outlined against the city's distant glow. A rifle slung casually across his back; he greeted the bus with a practiced signal to halt. With military precision, he conducted a headcount and scrutinized each base IDs, his feline features illuminated by the cold, pale glow of the moon.

As the IDs were returned, the soldier exited the bus and saluted the driver, a silent acknowledgment of the night's passage. With the closing of the automatic gates, the cold air rushed by the Beastkin sentinel. His catlike ears twitched through the cut-outs in his helmet, and a sudden sneeze disrupted the serene atmosphere. A gloved hand swiftly rubbed his nose before he retreated into the warmth of the checkpoint office, leaving only the echoes of the night to linger in the empty streets of Yasumin.

The bus continued its trip through the half-completed streets of a newly completed military base known as Outpost Yasumin. The bus came to a halt in front of a large grey building with multiple floors with a loud release of air from the airbrakes. As the inebriated personnel made their way inside, a young Beastkin soldier helped the more immobile ones to their rooms to sleep off what was left of their night out. The others spilled into their rooms, not before being forewarned about a formation for Physical Training early the next morning. That announcement was returned from all with moans and disgust.