We move through the woods in silence, every step calculated and cautious. The sun filters weakly through the thick canopy, casting shifting shadows across the forest floor. Caleb walks a few paces ahead of me, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth for any sign of danger. His shoulders are tense, my rifle gripped tight. I gave it to him as the blood loss became more notable. If he's going to be lost in the woods without me, he might as well have something. Every so often, he glances back to make sure I'm still close. I am. Always a step behind, always watching.
The air hums with the low buzz of insects and the rustle of leaves underfoot. Every sound sharpens my focus. I can't shake the feeling that someone—or something—is watching us. My fingers twitch, feeling the ghost of the trigger, anticipating something to jump out of the trees at us.
Caleb pauses near a fallen tree, holding up a hand. I stop beside him. "We'll rest here for a minute," he murmurs, voice low but steady. He sits on the moss-covered trunk and pulls out a canteen, offering it to me first. I shake my head. He frowns but doesn't push.
"You should drink," he says quietly. "You're still weak."
I narrow my eyes and take the canteen, forcing down a few gulps. The pain in my side has dulled to a persistent ache, manageable but ever-present. Caleb watches me, concern etched into every line of his face. I hate it. Pity never sits well with me—it feels like weakness, like a crack someone could exploit.
"We need to keep moving," I rasp, voice rough from disuse.
Caleb blinks in surprise but quickly recovers, nodding. "Yeah, you're right."
We press on, navigating the tangled mess of branches and uneven ground. The forest thickens, the light dimming as the sun begins its slow descent. Every step forward is an effort, but I grit my teeth and push through the exhaustion dragging at my limbs. Caleb stays close, guiding us around hazards and pausing when the terrain gets too steep. He allows me to lean on his when the terrain becomes too rough to navigate myself. I'm slowing us to an agonizing speed, but he says nothing as the day wears on.
Hours pass before he finally breaks the silence. "You ever think about what you'll do when this is over?"
I shoot him a sharp look. His question feels pointless. There is no after for people like me—only survival. He scratches the back of his neck, looking away. "Sorry. Stupid question."
We fall back into silence. The only sounds are the rhythmic crunch of our boots on dirt and the occasional bird call overhead. Caleb's attempt at conversation lingers in my mind longer than I want it to. I wonder why he asks—what hope does he cling to that I can't afford? I try to think of a response but nothing comes. I've never thought that far. Only to getting out, doubting that was even possible.
A low growl breaks through the quiet.
We both freeze. Caleb slowly raises his rifle as I do the same, scanning the shadows. The sound comes again, closer this time. A flash of movement catches my eye—low to the ground, fast, and deliberate. My pulse quickens, every muscle taut and ready.
"Move," I whisper. We don't need to agree—we just run.
Branches claw at my arms and face as we sprint through the underbrush, the growls growing louder, closer. Something is chasing us. Caleb leads, cutting through the forest like he knows exactly where we're going. I follow, focusing on every breath, every pounding heartbeat. The sound of heavy footfalls grows closer, too close. I lag behind, Caleb reaches out, clasping my hand as he drags me forward.
We break into a clearing, breathless and desperate. Caleb turns, raising his rifle just as the creature—a massive, feral hound twisted by whatever horrors this war has wrought—bursts from the trees. He doesn't hesitate. He pulls the trigger. The shot echoes through the woods, the beast collapsing mid-leap.
I approach the poor beast. Up close it looks small, thin from lack of food, its hair beginning to thin from its body enough to where its ribs are easy to count. Food scarcity isn't only the people. The same weapons that wiped out most of the human population also wiped out the animal population. The price to pay for war.
Caleb looks at me, chest heaving. "We need to keep moving."
I nod. The shot will draw attention.
We press on, the urgency of our steps reignited by the close call. My body screams for rest, but I can't afford to stop. Every step feels heavier than the last, but Caleb's determination keeps me moving. He checks on me constantly, offering a steady presence I didn't realize I needed.
He should just leave me for dead. That is the most reasonable thing to do. If he manages to find Rein and his people, it is one less threat to think about when they decide to split.
Why is he still helping me?
Night falls fast, swallowing the forest in darkness. We stop only when we find a small cave tucked into a hillside, hidden by dense foliage. Caleb clears the entrance, motioning for me to crawl inside first. I settle near the back while he keeps watch by the entrance. The space isn't exactly roomy. Caleb settles close to my left, close enough I can feel heat radiating off of him. He glances at me and I make myself busy by checking my bandages. It's strange to be trapped in a small space with anyone besides Rein.
The silence stretches.
"You saved my life back there," I say after a while.
"Twice," he says pointily. I narrow at him and he smirks. "Wouldn't be much of a team if I didn't."
I laugh, a soft, tired sound.
Closing my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me, but sleep doesn't come easily. My thoughts circle back to the group—to Rein, Helen, Vincent, Liam. Are they safe? Did they make it to the rendezvous point? The weight of responsibility presses down harder than the pain in my side. Shaking my head to myself, I settle against my pack.
Caleb shifts beside me. "We'll find them," he says, like he can read my mind. His voice is steady, confident.
I want to believe him. I want to glimpse that pesky hope that clings to him. It must get annoying to think those will go right when everything goes so wrong. My hope was shattered as a child while I watched my home burn.
Morning comes too quickly. My body aches with every movement, but I push through. We eat a small ration of food in silence before setting out again. The forest feels different in the daylight—less threatening but no less dangerous. No more rabid animals jump out of the trees, no one chasing us. It's almost peaceful. Part of me wonders what it would be like if we never left the cave.
Nope.
I don't like the hope thing. It's like a sour taste in my mouth.
We follow the river, moving upstream where Rein said we'd meet. Hours pass without a sign of pursuit, but the tension never leaves. Caleb doesn't attempt anymore conversation and I'm grateful for the silence. Every rustle of leaves makes my fingers twitch for my rifle, but I remind myself for some godforsaken reason I gave it to Caleb. I'm beginning to regret the decision.
By midday, we find the signal Rein left for us—three stacked stones by the riverbank. Relief is a quiet, fleeting thing. We're close.
Caleb catches my arm as we cross a narrow ridge. "We're going to make it," he says, voice firm.
I nod, though the weight of doubt lingers. Trust is dangerous. Hope is even worse. But as we move forward, I find myself walking just a little closer to Caleb. Just in case. Maybe he'll shove me back into the river and be done with me. I would.