Eric's POV
The morning sun, filtered through a crack in the cave ceiling, was a stark, unforgiving stripe of white on the floor. I was woken by the soft cooing of Refugia, a sound so fragile and pure it seemed to chase away the nightmares of the previous night.
Sofia was already awake, tending to the fire. As I stirred, she glanced up, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—not pity, not judgment, but a quiet, shared understanding.
"I'm going to check the traps," I said, my voice a low rumble. I hadn't meant to break the silence, but the words felt necessary, a return to the practical routine that had kept us alive.
"Be careful," she replied, her voice soft. It was a simple phrase, but it was the first time she had ever said something like that to me. It wasn't a warning; it was a quiet acknowledgment of my role, a part of our unspoken language.
My body ached with a bone-weary exhaustion. It had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the emotional weight I had carried for so long. The fortress around my heart, once a towering structure of ice and stone, was now just a pile of rubble. And in the silence of the cave, with the child's gentle sounds and the warmth of the fire, it didn't feel like a defeat. It felt like a release.
As the cold air hit my face, I felt a new resolve. The past was no longer a cage. It was a scar, a part of my story, but it didn't define me. I had shared my burden, and in doing so, I had made it smaller. I wasn't carrying it alone.
I took the leather bag and my spear. Refugia's soft cry followed me into the morning light, a reminder of the life we were protecting. The cave felt different now. Less of a prison, more of a shelter.
I moved with a quiet efficiency born of necessity. My boots made no sound on the rocky ground as I followed the faint, winding game trail. The forest was a silent world, a stark contrast to the suffocating noise of my past life. Back then, my days were filled with the clamor of business deals, the high-pitched laughter of people I didn't know, and the constant, low hum of a family that was always watching, always judging. Here, the only sounds were the rustle of leaves under my feet and the distant cry of a hawk circling high above.the familiar weight a comfort against the hollowness in my gut. The air outside was cool and damp, the scent of wet earth and pine filling my lungs. I moved through the forest, a ghost in the gray light, my senses sharpened by the constant threat of the unknown.
I found the first trap empty, but a snap of a twig nearby put me on high alert. I flattened myself against the trunk of a gnarled oak, my heart hammering against my ribs. A moment later, a woman emerged from the undergrowth, her clothes torn and her hair matted. She wasn't one of ours. She moved with a desperate energy, her eyes scanning the forest as if searching for something—or someone. I held my breath, the spear gripped tight in my hand. She paused, her head cocked as if listening, then moved on, disappearing into the trees. Only after the sound of her footsteps had completely faded did I dare to move, the encounter leaving a cold dread in my stomach.
With my senses on overdrive, I cautiously checked the second trap. It too was empty. A knot of frustration tightened in my chest. We couldn't afford a wasted day. Finally, at the third one, I saw it—a plump hare, its life stilled, caught in the snare. A wave of relief washed over me, a powerful, almost dizzying feeling.
As I made my way back to the cave, I saw her, standing just outside the entrance, her eyes scanning the treeline. She wasn't just waiting; she was watching, guarding our home. When she saw me, a small, genuine smile touched her lips. I held up the hare, and the smile widened. we went inside
As I got in, the smell of cooked rations filled the air, a humble, comforting aroma. Sofia immediately held Refugia, humming a gentle, tuneless melody.
"You're good with her," I said, the words surprising even myself.
Sofia smiled, a genuine, soft curve of her lips that I hadn't seen before. "She's easy to be good with."
I sat down next to her, the small space between us now a comfortable silence rather than an awkward gap. "Thank you," I said, the words barely a whisper.
"For what?"
"For... listening. For not asking questions."
She looked at me, her gaze steady and calm. "Your story wasn't for me to pick apart," she said simply. "It was for you to tell."
Her words hung in the air, a final brick removed from the wall I had built around myself. I found myself staring into the fire, its light dancing in the depths of her eyes. I had not noticed how kind they were before.
"I saw someone out there," I said, my voice low. "A woman."
Sofia's humming stopped. She looked at me, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Another survivor?"
"I think so. She was searching for something, or someone. Her clothes were torn, and she looked… desperate." I shook my head, the image of the woman's haunted eyes replaying in my mind. "It doesn't make sense. We're barely a whisper away from the mutated creatures. The things that roam these woods are relentless. How can she be wandering around alone like that? It's a death sentence."
Sofia was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the entrance of the cave. "Maybe she was lost," she said softly, "or running from something worse."
"Or maybe," I said, a cold unease settling in my gut, "she's not alone." I looked at her, at the small child in her arms, and a protective instinct I hadn't felt in years surged through me. "We need to be more careful. If there are others out here, they're either a miracle... or a threat."