Eric's pov
A soft glow from the fire illuminated the cave, dancing across Sofia's face as she watched Refugia. She was humming a gentle, tuneless melody, rocking the baby in her arms. The baby, swaddled in an old khaki jacket, was finally asleep, her tiny face peaceful. The silence in the cave, once heavy with loneliness, was now filled with the quiet, steady rhythm of our new lives.
"You know," Sofia said, her voice barely above a whisper, "it's only been a few days, but it feels like we've been doing this forever."
I grunted, adding a small piece of wood to the fire. "Time's relative out here." My gaze remained on the flames, avoiding hers. "She's quiet now, that's what matters."
"We've gone from trying to find a safe place for ourselves to trying to find a safe place for her," Sofia mused, her eyes full of a new kind of purpose. "I never thought I'd feel this way again. This... responsibility."
"It's a liability," I corrected, my voice flat.
"But we're doing it. We found a way to get her food, even in this mess. We've kept her warm." I paused, a different kind of thought crossing my mind, but I pushed it down. "We're not just survivors anymore, Sofia. We're a team."
Sofia looked up at me, a tear welling in her eye. "A family," she repeated, the word sounding both fragile and impossibly strong.
She carefully leaned back, her back against the rough cave wall, and gently laid the sleeping baby on a pile of furs. "We're her family now, Eric. And we're a lot stronger for it."
The quiet hum of the fire was the only sound for a long time. Sofia stared at the sleeping baby, her expression a mix of awe and deep affection. I kept my eyes on the flames, but I was acutely aware of her every move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was still so full of life, so open, even after everything we had lost.
"Do you think about what it used to be like?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence. "Before all this?"
I didn't answer right away. What was there to say? I thought about it every day, every moment. The before was a ghost I carried, a weight that never lifted. I saw my family's faces in my dreams, their laughter echoing in the silence of the cave. I pushed the memories down, deep inside, where they couldn't hurt me, couldn't weaken me.
"Doesn't do any good," I said finally, my voice gruff. "It's gone. We have to deal with now."
Sofia sighed, a sad, soft sound. "I know. It's just... I keep thinking about how easy it was. Just to go to the store, to have a cup of coffee. We took so much for granted." She looked at me, her eyes glistening. "Refugia will never know that. She'll never know a world without this... this danger."
I looked at the baby then, at her tiny, perfect face. She was a blank slate. She didn't know the world was broken. All she knew was the warmth of Sofia's arms and the firelight on the cave wall. In a twisted way, that was a kind of blessing. She had no ghost to carry. She had no past to mourn. All she had was us.
"Then we'll build her a better now," I said, the words surprising me as they left my lips. "We'll teach her to be strong. We'll find a way."
Sofia's face lit up, a small, hopeful smile appearing on her lips. "I knew you'd see it," she whispered. "We're her protectors, Eric. Her hope. We're a team."
I didn't correct her. She could call us what she wanted. A team, a family—the labels didn't matter. What mattered was the quiet understanding that passed between us in that moment. We were bound by the responsibility of this tiny life, a new purpose forged in the ashes of our old one. We had a job to do. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like we might actually be able to do it.
*************
The fire crackled, a small, stubborn defiance against the encroaching darkness of the cave. Sofia, curled up with the baby, was humming a new song—something bright and impossibly cheerful. I ignored it, focused on sharpening my knife.
"Eric," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet. "We're going to need more food soon. Our rations are getting low. I was thinking we could go out tomorrow."
I didn't look up. "I'm going alone."
Her humming stopped. "Alone? Why? We always go together."
"Not this time," I said, my voice flat.
"There's the baby, for one. Someone has to stay here with her."
"I can leave her with you!" she offered instantly.
I finally looked at her, my expression firm. "No. You're staying. Every time we go out, you make a racket. You trip on a root, you drop something, you talk too loud. We can't afford that kind of attention anymore, not with a baby depending on us."
The playful look on her face vanished, replaced by a deep hurt. "A racket? I'm not that bad!"
"You're not built for silence, Sofia," I stated, the words cold and simple. "It's a fact. I can be in and out without making a sound. It's the only way to be sure we don't bring those things back to the cave."
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on the baby's sleeping face. "But... we're a team, Eric. We always look out for each other."
"My job is to look out for us, all three of us," I countered, my voice low and final. "And the safest way to do that is for me to go alone. End of discussion."
A shadow fell over her jovial spirit. She looked away, a tear welling in her eye before she quickly wiped it away. She was hurt, I could see it. But I also knew I was right. My heart ached at her wounded expression, but the fear of losing her to one of my mistakes was a far greater pain. I couldn't risk it. Not now. Not ever.