“Stop overthinking,” I muttered, more to quiet the voice in my head than anything else.
I moved deeper into the woods. It wasn’t long before I caught the faint trace of something unnatural. A whiff of gun oil carried on the wind. Hunters.
They were close, but not too close. My guess? A patrol sweeping through the area, looking for signs of us.
I spotted a snapped branch, a boot print too heavy and precise to belong to anyone but them. The trail curved south, away from the cabin.
A little too far to pose an immediate threat, but close enough to keep me on edge.
Satisfied I had their positions locked down for now, I eased back, taking the longer route toward the cabin.
On the way, I caught the faint scurry of movement up ahead.
Instinct took over. I dropped low, scanning the brush until I saw a hare, sleek and quick, darting through the undergrowth.
Asher needed food. I crept forward, my movements fluid and soundless. The hare stopped, ears twitching as if it sensed something.
Too late. In a blur of motion, I lunged, my hand closing around the creature’s body before it could bolt.
It wriggled, its heart racing under my fingers. The kill was quick and clean. The hare went limp in my grip, and a faint satisfaction settled over me.
A small victory, but it was something.
I adjusted my hold on the animal, pleased with the night's work. Food for Asher, knowledge of the hunters’ movements.
We’d be safe for another day, maybe two. I told myself the worry I felt earlier was unnecessary.
Heading back, my thoughts drifted to Asher.
I could picture him there in the cabin, probably pacing despite the ache in his leg, muttering to himself about being left behind.
Stubborn bastard. The corner of my mouth twitched at the thought.
He was infuriating and reckless, but somehow that only made me more determined to keep him alive. To keep him.
I quickened my pace, weaving through the trees with practiced ease, the hare dangling at my side.
ASHER
It was eerily quiet, the faint creak of the rusted metal walls of the temporary shelter the only sound in the darkness.
I shifted my weight against the thin wall. My eyes felt heavy, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under despite the tension thrumming in my chest.
Gael wasn’t back yet. He’d promised to scout and return, but how long had it been?
The worry circled in my head like a vulture, but fatigue won the battle. My eyes fluttered shut, and the cabin melted away into the hazy edges of a dream.
It was Thanksgiving, years ago, before the world had flipped upside down. Back when my family was whole.
The memory came with startling clarity: the warm, golden light of our dining room, the scent of roasted turkey lingering in the air, and the faint hum of music my mom always insisted on playing during holidays.
Dinner had been a loud, messy affair, as it always was with my family. Finn had spent half the meal sneaking bits of food under the table for the dog.
Donovan had teased me relentlessly about something I’d said in passing, and my parents had exchanged amused glances, letting us squabble like the kids we still were.
Later, long after everyone else had gone to bed, I’d woken up thirsty. Padding down to the kitchen in socked feet, I pushed the door open and froze.
Finn and Donovan were huddled by the counter, forks in hand, hovering over what was left of the pumpkin pie.
