The trio sprinted into the smoldering remains of the camp, their faces pale with desperation. Smoke curled into the night air, choking their lungs as they tore through the wreckage, overturning charred debris and burned tents in search of survivors.
"Hello?!" Rice shouted, his voice cracking as he stumbled over a broken spear. He dropped to his knees, pulling aside a mound of ash, only to find the blackened remains of a body. He recoiled, his hands trembling.
Darius was no less frantic, his movements sharp and relentless as he flung aside debris, his palms scraped raw by jagged wood and hot embers. His breath came in ragged bursts, and the sweat streaming down his face mixed with soot, painting him in streaks of black.
Ryden's hands were shaking as he turned over a collapsed tent, his fingers burned and bloodied from digging through scalding ash. His eyes scanned every inch of the camp, desperate for a sign of life.
"There's no one," he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of the fire. "No one."
But they couldn't stop. They wouldn't stop. The three of them worked until their hands were blistered and raw, their hearts sinking further with each passing moment.
It was the rabbit that alerted them. The small wooden figure, scorched but still animated, emitted a frantic squeak and darted toward a pile of ash at the edge of the camp.
Ryden whipped around, his gaze snapping to the rabbit as it pawed at the smoking heap, its charred form trembling with urgency.
"What is it?" Ryden murmured, staggering to his feet. He followed the rabbit, falling to his knees before the ash pile.
The moment he reached it, his breath caught. "No… those monsters"
The ash pile loomed before them, still smoldering with an oppressive heat that distorted the air around it. Without hesitation, Ryden fell to his knees, his hands plunging into the burning mound with reckless abandon. The moment his fingers touched the surface, a sharp, searing pain shot through his hands. Embers bit into his skin, blistering the flesh, but he didn't flinch. His desperation drove him, his movements frantic and unrelenting as he clawed through the debris.
The heat was suffocating, the acrid smell of smoke and charred remains making it hard to breathe, but Ryden's focus was unwavering. His hands dug deeper, pulling away chunks of burned wood and blackened cloth, each movement more frantic than the last.
"Ryden, stop!" Rice called out, his voice tight with fear. But then he saw the look in Ryden's eyes—raw determination, edged with despair. Rice cursed under his breath and dropped to his knees beside him.
"Let's find her," he muttered, plunging his own hands into the ash. The first contact with the embers made him hiss in pain, but he didn't stop. He shoved aside debris, his fingers tearing through layers of scorching soot.
Darius, ever the steady presence, joined them. His larger hands made quick work of the heavier debris, his movements precise despite the urgency. His jaw was clenched tight, and the muscles in his arms strained as he worked tirelessly alongside the others.
The three of them dug in silence, save for the occasional grunt of effort or a sharp intake of breath when the heat became too much to bear. The ash grew thicker as they went deeper, the heat intensifying until their hands felt as though they were on fire.
Ryden's fingers began to blister, the skin peeling back in places, but he didn't slow. His breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps as he shoved aside more debris, ignoring the pain that lanced through his arms. "She's here," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice filled with a desperate hope that bordered on pleading. "She has to be here."
Rice's hands were shaking, the tips of his fingers bleeding as he scraped against jagged remnants of burned wood. "Come on," he growled, his voice thick with frustration. "Come on!"
Darius, his face grim, pushed past the pain in his own hands. His movements were methodical but no less determined. He paused only briefly to wipe soot from his brow before resuming, his mind focused solely on the task before him.
After what felt like hours, Ryden's fingers brushed against something different—a texture that wasn't rough or hot, but soft. His breath hitched, and his heart pounded in his chest.
"A cloth," he whispered, almost to himself. Then louder: "Here! I found something!"
The others froze for a split second before springing into action. Together, they dug faster, their hands moving in a blur as they cleared the ash and soot away. The heat was unbearable now, the embers biting deeper into their raw fingers, but they didn't care.
"Careful!" Darius warned, his voice sharp with urgency. "Don't hurt her!"
Piece by piece, the pile began to give way, revealing what lay beneath.
Finally, they unearthed her. Lucy lay at the bottom of the mound, her small body battered and broken. Her once-vivid silver hair was streaked with ash, her skin marred with burns and cuts. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her breaths were shallow, barely visible in the flickering light of the fire.
Ryden dropped to his knees beside her, his trembling hands reaching out to feel for a pulse. His fingers pressed against her neck, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Then—there it was. Faint, but steady.
"She's alive," Ryden whispered, his voice breaking with relief. Tears blurred his vision as he looked back at the others, his face a mixture of triumph and despair. "She's alive."
Rice let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders slumping as the tension drained from his body. "Of course she is," he muttered, though his voice cracked with emotion.
Darius reached down, carefully lifting Lucy into his arms. Her small frame seemed even more fragile now, her burns stark against her pale skin. He held her as though she might shatter, his expression one of fierce protectiveness.
"We have to move," he said firmly, looking up at the others. "We have to get her to the nearest tribe."
Rice nodded, his face pale but determined. "Fennrick said the Stonehorn tribe is only a day away."
Darius scooped Lucy into his arms, cradling her fragile form as if she might break. Her head lolled weakly against his chest, her silver hair streaked with soot and blood.
"Then let's go," Darius said, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.
Without another word, the trio began their desperate journey, the burning camp fading into the distance as they raced against time to save the last remaining member of the Greyleaf Tribe.