Elsewhere.
Jonah and Nancy stood at the edge of the camp, their gazes sweeping over the dark forest surrounding them.
The faint sound of the stream nearby offered little comfort.
They had chosen a small clearing downstream for the group to spend the night, but they felt anything but relaxed.
Jonah leaned against a tree, his grip tight on his weapon.
Beside him, Nancy crouched, her eyes darting between the shadows, every rustle of leaves setting her on edge.
Their expressions were etched with exhaustion, their faces pale and drawn. It had only been a single day in this accursed place, yet it felt like weeks.
The physical strain was one thing, but the mental toll—constant fear, tension, and the guilt of failure—was crushing.
The group's condition was grim. They had lost two more people.
Each loss weighed heavily, a bitter reminder of how dangerous this place was.
