The group stumbled out of the trap, battered and shaken. Oliver clutched Leah's hand, his face pale with fear, while Hope whimpered softly in Jonah's arms. Blood smeared Maren's forehead where she had hit a branch during their escape, though she brushed off Leah's offer to check the wound. Elias carried the weight of silence, his eyes darting through the darkening forest for any sign of the scavengers.
They stopped near a shallow creek, hidden by thick undergrowth. The air was thick with unease, every rustle of the trees amplifying their paranoia. Leah crouched by Hope and Oliver, murmuring soft reassurances she wasn't sure she believed.
"This isn't working," Maren hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "We're sitting ducks out here, thanks to him." She gestured toward Oliver, her accusation dripping with venom.
Leah shot to her feet. "He's a child, Maren. A child who's been through more than any of us can imagine."
"And because of him, we're being hunted like animals!" Maren snapped. "You're putting everyone at risk for some misplaced sense of morality."
"Enough," Elias barked, stepping between them. His tone carried the weight of command, silencing both women. "We don't have the luxury to fight each other. Save it for the scavengers."
Leah glared at Maren, her fists clenched, but said nothing. Maren crossed her arms and turned away, muttering under her breath.
Hope tugged on Leah's sleeve and muttered her first words. "Mama?" she called catching everyone by surprise.
Leah knelt and smoothed the girl's hair. "Mama's here for you".
As the night pressed in, the group huddled together in the clearing. Elias unfolded a makeshift map, tracing their position with a finger.
"We'll head north at first light," he said, his voice low but steady. "If we push hard, we can reach the old military outpost in three days."
"That's if we don't get ambushed again," Maren muttered, earning her a sharp look from Elias.
Jonah leaned forward. "Do we even know if the outpost is still standing? What if it's a wild goose chase?"
"It's a risk," Elias admitted, "but staying here is a death sentence."
"And dragging him along doesn't help," Maren interjected, pointing at Oliver. "We're not equipped to fight a war."
"That's okay!" Leah's voice rang out, startling everyone. "Oliver isn't a burden. He's family now. If anyone has a problem with that, they can leave."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Maren stared at Leah, her expression unreadable, before scoffing and turning away.
"I'm not leaving," Jonah said quietly. "But Maren's not wrong about the danger. We need to be smart."
Oliver's soft voice broke the tension again. "Will we be safe tomorrow?"
Leah swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "We will. You just have to trust me."
Elias stood, his expression grim. "Get some rest. We move at dawn."
As the group settled into uneasy silence, Leah felt the weight of their survival pressing heavier on her shoulders. In the flickering light of the fire, she caught Maren watching her, a shadow of suspicion darkening her gaze.
Leah sat apart from the group, her back pressed against a tree as the night deepened. The others had drifted into restless sleep, but she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Every time she tried, she saw flashes of the trap—Oliver's terrified face, the sharp snap of branches, and the scavengers closing in.
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Was Maren right? Was she putting everyone in danger for a child she had no obligation to protect? The thought made her stomach twist with guilt.
Her gaze drifted to Hope, curled up against Jonah's side, her little face peaceful despite the horrors of the day. Leah's chest tightened. She had made a promise—to protect Hope, to keep her safe no matter what. But now there was Oliver too, and she wasn't sure she was strong enough for both.
The memories of her past failures crept in, unbidden. She saw the faces of the people she couldn't save, heard their screams echoing in her mind. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, shaking her head.
"No," she whispered to herself. "I can't fall apart now. They need me."
But doubt lingered, a gnawing presence in the back of her mind.
---
The soft crunch of footsteps startled Leah. She quickly wiped at her eyes, turning to see Elias approaching. He held up his hands, a silent gesture of peace, before settling down beside her.
"You should be resting," Leah said, her voice hollow.
"So should you," Elias replied, his tone gentle but firm.
They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling firelight casting shadows across their faces. Finally, Elias broke the quiet. "I know what you're thinking."
Leah glanced at him, her brow furrowed. "Do you?"
"You're blaming yourself," he said simply. "For the trap, for the danger we're in. For everything."
Leah's throat tightened. "Isn't it my fault? I was the one who insisted we keep Oliver. I'm the one who—"
"Leah," Elias interrupted, his voice steady. "You're not responsible for the scavengers. They made their choices, not you."
She looked away, her jaw clenched. "It doesn't feel that way. Every time something goes wrong, it's like…I'm failing all over again."
Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're not failing. You're doing what most people wouldn't—protecting the ones who can't protect themselves. That's not weakness. That's strength."
Leah let out a bitter laugh. "Strength? I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm barely holding it together."
Elias turned to her, his gaze unwavering. "That's what strength looks like sometimes. It's not about feeling invincible. It's about standing up, even when you're afraid."
Leah met his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity but finding none. The weight of his words settled over her, grounding her in a way she hadn't expected.
For the first time that night, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "Thanks," she said quietly.
Elias offered a small smile. "Anytime."
The silence between them was different now—softer, almost comforting. They sat together, watching the fire burn low, and for a moment, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter.
The fire's glow bathed the clearing in an amber light, casting long shadows that danced on the edges of the group's makeshift camp. Leah and Elias sat a short distance from the others, their backs resting against the trunk of a sturdy oak tree. The crackle of burning wood filled the silence, mingling with the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.
Leah shifted slightly, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames. She spoke hesitantly, breaking the silence between them. "Do you ever wonder if we'll feel normal again? Like… really normal?"
Elias glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. "I don't think there's a way back to what we used to call normal," he admitted. "But maybe there's something better out there. Something new."
Leah nodded slowly, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the dirt. "I guess I'm not ready to let go of what it felt like—waking up without fear, without this weight on your chest every single day."
Elias's lips curved into a faint smile. "That's the thing about you, Leah. You hold on, even when the world's trying to tear you apart."
She chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "Stubbornness isn't exactly a survival skill."
"No," he agreed, his gaze steady on her. "But hope is."
The words settled between them, heavy yet comforting. Leah looked at Elias, seeing not just a soldier hardened by loss, but a young man quietly carrying his own burdens. For the first time, she wondered how much of his strength was a facade, a shield to protect the others.
"I envy you," she said suddenly. "You always seem so… sure of yourself."
Elias arched a brow. "You'd be surprised how often I'm winging it."
The comment drew a genuine laugh from Leah, and for a moment, the weight on her chest lifted. It was fleeting, but it was enough.
Elias leaned forward, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "We're all fighting the same battle, Leah. You're not as alone as you think."
Her throat tightened at his words, and she glanced away, afraid he might see the tears threatening to surface. "Thank you," she murmured, barely audible.
"Anytime," he replied.
The two sat in silence after that, their shared moment of vulnerability forging a connection neither dared to fully acknowledge. As the fire dwindled to glowing embers, Leah felt the faint stirrings of hope, fragile but undeniable.
---
The morning arrived with the soft light of dawn filtering through the canopy above. Leah stood at the edge of the camp, her arms crossed as she surveyed the group. The air was crisp and cool, a sharp contrast to the tension that lingered from the night before.
Elias approached her, his movements quiet and purposeful. "You ready?" he asked.
Leah nodded, her jaw set. "We can't stay here any longer. Every second we waste gives them a chance to catch up."
"I agree," he said. "We've mapped out a route that avoids the main trails. It'll slow us down, but it's safer."
Leah turned to face the others. Hope was stirring awake, rubbing her eyes with small fists. Jonah murmured something to her, his tone soothing. Maren sat apart from the group, sharpening a blade with deliberate focus. Oliver paced near the firepit, his expression shadowed by guilt.
"Listen up," Leah called, her voice firm. The group quieted and turned to her, their faces a mix of exhaustion and wariness. "We move now. Stick together, stay alert, and don't question the plan. If we work as a team, we'll make it to the outpost."
Maren snorted, but Leah's sharp glare silenced her before she could voice any objections. The rest of the group nodded, some more hesitantly than others.
Elias stepped forward. "I'll take point. Jonah, you watch our six. Leah, stay with Hope and Oliver."
The group began breaking camp with practiced efficiency, though the strain of their journey was evident in every movement. Leah caught Maren's gaze as the woman shouldered her pack. There was something calculating in her expression, something that made Leah's unease flare anew.
As they moved out, the forest seemed to close in around them, the trees pressing close like silent witnesses to their plight. The path was uneven and treacherous, forcing them to slow their pace. Every sound, every shadow, felt like a potential threat.
Despite the tension, Leah felt a flicker of determination. She kept a steady pace, her focus on the small figure of Hope in her arms. The child disturbed occasionally, but she never complained, her resilience a quiet inspiration.
Leah leaned down to adjust Oliver's pack. "You're doing great, kiddo," she said softly.
Oliver offered a shy smile. "Do you think we'll be safe at the outpost?"
Leah hesitated, then nodded. "I do. We'll get through this together."
Behind her, Elias watched the exchange, his expression unreadable. He caught Leah's eye and gave a subtle nod, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone in this fight.
---
Hours passed, and the group pressed on, their progress slow but steady. The forest grew denser, the shadows deeper, until they came upon a narrow stream. Elias signaled for them to stop and refill their water supplies.
As the group rested, Leah noticed Maren lingering on the outskirts, her gaze darting toward the treeline. Suspicion gnawed at her, but she chose not to confront Maren just yet. The group couldn't afford more tension, not now.
When they resumed their journey, the unease lingered, a heavy weight pressing down on Leah's chest. The scavengers were out there, she was certain of it. And if her instincts were right, someone in their midst was helping them.
Leah tightened her grip on her weapon, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't let the group fall apart—not when they were so close to safety.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in a golden haze, the group pressed on, each step carrying them closer to an uncertain future.
The morning was heavy with the weight of the previous night's decisions, but the group moved with quiet determination. Leah oversaw the packing, ensuring their supplies were evenly distributed. Every motion felt methodical, deliberate—one mistake could cost them dearly.
Elias worked with Jonah to fashion makeshift weapons from what they could scavenge: sharpened branches, jagged pieces of metal, anything that could give them an edge. Oliver helped where he could, his small hands fumbling with the knots Elias showed him, but his resolve was unshaken.
Leah paused to check on Oliver, who sat perched on a rock drained from the hours of working, his stuffed bear clutched tightly in his hands. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
Oliver looked up, his wide eyes filled with innocence and fear. "Will the bad people find us again?"
Leah knelt, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Not if I can help it. We're going somewhere safer."
"Promise?" Oliver whispered, his voice trembling.
Leah swallowed hard and nodded. "Promise."
Behind her, Maren watched the exchange with a tight expression, arms crossed. When Leah stood, Maren approached, her tone sharp. "Do you think comforting him with false promises is wise? He'll learn the hard way soon enough."
Leah's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice even. "He's a child. He deserves hope, even if it's just a flicker."
Maren snorted, turning away, but not before Leah caught the flicker of disdain in her eyes.
Elias stepped in, addressing the group with authority. "We leave in five minutes. Everyone stay alert and stay together. The scavengers won't hesitate to exploit any weakness."
As they began their trek through the dense forest, Leah fell into step beside Elias, their earlier conversation strengthening her resolve. They had to make it—failure wasn't an option.
---
The group moved cautiously, the dense canopy above casting long shadows across their path. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made them freeze, ears straining for signs of pursuit.
Jonah, leading the way, raised a hand to halt the group. "Something's up ahead," he murmured, pointing to a clearing just beyond the trees.
The group crept forward, their breaths held. As they emerged into the clearing, a grim sight awaited them—a makeshift camp, hastily abandoned.
The remnants were disturbing: blood-streaked cloth, broken weapons, and the unmistakable stench of violence.
Oliver gasped, his face paling. His hands trembled as he pointed to a crude symbol carved into the bark of a nearby tree—a jagged "X" encircled by a snake.
Leah turned to him, her voice urgent. "What is it? Do you recognize that?"
"It's theirs," Oliver whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's how they mark their kills. They… they leave it as a warning."
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
"They're close," Elias said grimly, scanning the surrounding trees. "We need to move—now."
But before they could retreat, Jonah crouched, picking up something from the ground—a child's shoe.
Leah's heart sank as she recognized it immediately. It belonged to one of the children from the first camp they had encountered. The scavengers had been here—and they had left no survivors.
A chill ran through her as she turned to the group. "They're hunting us," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. "And they're not far behind."