Today was just another day, or so Lloyd thought.
The biting wind swept over the fields, carrying flakes of frost that stung against his cheeks. His boots sank into the snow with every step, the shovel in his hand slicing through the frozen topsoil as he worked the stubborn earth. Farming in winter was not for the faint-hearted. Each movement drained his already weak body, yet he kept going.
Because if he didn't… who else would?
A voice cut through the cold.
"Oi! Lloyd!"
The young man turned at once, his expression softening as his ocean-blue eyes fell on a familiar figure.
"Auntie Yang!" His pale lips curved into a rare smile
The woman approaching was bundled in a patched coat, her breaths visible in the frigid air. She was one of the few people who still cared. After his parents' deaths, Auntie Yang and her husband had done more than anyone else, even when they themselves had so little. They had given food, advice, and, once, a parenting book that had helped an eighteen-year-old boy raise his sister without losing his mind.
Lloyd jogged over, worry etching lines into his pale face.
"Auntie Yang, what are you doing out here? It's freezing. Go back inside."
"Hiyah, you sound just like my husband" she said, shaking her head with a grin. Then, with a mischievous glint, she thrust a plastic bag into his hands. It dripped faintly with blood.
Lloyd's brows furrowed as he peeked inside. Pork belly. Pig kidneys. Even scraps perfect for rendering lard.
His chest tightened.
"Auntie Yang, where did you get this? You're not raising pigs."
"Boars," she said proudly. "Your uncle caught one in the forest. You should go too when you have time. They're dangerous, but the meat is worth it."
The smell of blood mixed with the sharp winter air. Lloyd bowed deeply, his gratitude silent but heavy.
"I'll make good use of it. Thank you."
He carried the meat back, storing it carefully in the rattling fridge that barely held its cold. Then he returned to the fields, the image of his sister's bright smile flashing in his mind.
Night fell fast in the countryside. By the time he returned inside, the wind howled against the wooden walls, and the house felt colder than the snow outside. Still, Lloyd worked the kitchen with practiced hands. The scraps became rendered lard, its aroma subtle and warm. The kidneys were meticulously cleaned, no room for gamey odors, and stir-fried with ginger, soy sauce, and what little cabbage remained.
The sizzling scent filled the house.
"Brother…" A sleepy voice came from behind. Nora waddled out, rubbing her eyes. Her nose twitched. "Something smells good."
Lloyd's expression softened. "Pork tonight. Auntie Yang gifted us some."
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Meat?!"
He chuckled at her eagerness but quickly shooed her away from the fire.
"Sit down. I'll be done in a bit."
The meal was humble, yet the glaze of the kidneys and the fragrant steam rising from the bowls made it feel like a banquet. Nora dug in with the joy only a child could muster, while Lloyd ate quietly, savoring the rare warmth spreading in his chest.
For the first time in months, his stomach felt full.
After dinner, Nora was tucked into bed under mountains of blankets, her sleepy smile the only light in the freezing room. Lloyd stayed for a moment, watching her breathe peacefully before his expression hardened.
The warmth of the meal faded. The cold reality returned.
He went to his room, opened his closet, and pulled open a hidden compartment. Inside rested a Browning BAR MK 3 DBM semi-automatic rifle. The metal gleamed faintly under the dim light.
His father's rifle. Once used for hunting. Now? It would be used for survival.
He loaded it with careful precision. Bullets were expensive, each one a small fortune. A knife slid into his pocket, his jacket was zipped tight, and without a sound, he stepped back into the night.
The forest at night was a world of shadows.
The moonlight barely filtered through the dense canopy, silver streaks glinting on the frost. Every crunch of snow beneath his boots echoed louder than it should. The rifle felt heavy, but his grip never wavered.
Boars were nocturnal. He knew this. They hunted under the moon, while humans slept.
It didn't take long to find signs of one. The tracks were deep, messy, and led him far from the beaten path. His breath misted in the air, merging with the darkness as he followed the trail.
Finally, there it was.
A hulking boar crouched in a clearing, tearing into a half-eaten deer carcass. Its tusks glinted like knives. Its fur bristled. Lloyd steadied his breathing and raised the rifle. The cold barrel caught the moonlight.
One bullet. That's all it'll take.
His finger tightened.
Then—
A scream.
Sharp. High-pitched. Human.
The boar's head jerked up. It snorted once before disappearing into the trees. Lloyd's jaw clenched. Meat like that could feed them for weeks. He could still chase it.
But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with desperation.
He didn't think twice. He ran.
Branches clawed at his jacket. Snow sprayed under his boots. His breath came hard and fast as he sprinted through the dark forest. The moonlight vanished under thick branches, leaving only darkness and the echo of voices ahead, jeering, malicious.
Lloyd slowed, crouching low, rifle raised.
The clearing came into view, and his stomach twisted.
Five men. A woman on her knees.
Her hair clung to her flushed face, her breaths shallow and broken. Her limbs trembled violently, drugged, no doubt. The sickly-sweet stench of narcotics hung heavy.
One man gripped her hair, forcing her head back.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Don't pass out yet. We're just getting started."
Laughter followed. Cruel, sharp, echoing.
Lloyd's eyes went cold.
Bang!
The first shot cracked through the night, silencing the laughter instantly. The man holding her dropped, blood spraying across the snow.
The others froze, fear dawning too late.
"Who the hell—"
Bang!
The second fell, choking on his own blood.
Panic erupted. A knife flashed. Two turned to run.
Bang!
The third collapsed mid-step, lifeless.
The fourth barely made it three feet before the next bullet tore him down.
The last man screamed, bolting for the trees. Lloyd exhaled slowly.
Bang.
The final scream died, leaving only silence.
The smell of gunpowder hung heavy, mixing with iron and frost. Steam rose faintly from the bodies. The clearing was still, except for the woman's ragged breathing.
Lloyd approached, his boots crunching softly in the snow. The rifle lowered but his guard never dropped.
Up close, she was even more striking. Her beauty marred by sweat, tears, and the crimson flush of whatever poison ran through her veins. Her half-lidded eyes fluttered weakly, but no words came.
"You're safe now," he said, his voice low. Whether she heard or not, he didn't know.
Her lips moved faintly, a soundless plea.
Lloyd's jaw tightened. He crouched, checked her pulse. It was fast and erratic. Her body was burning hot, trembling.
Without another thought, he slid the rifle onto his back and scooped her into his arms. She weighed almost nothing, her head falling against his chest.
The corpses were left where they fell, the snow beginning to cover them as nature claimed them back. Lloyd didn't look back.
The way home was long. The cold gnawed at his bones. The woman's feverish heat burned against him, her shallow breaths barely brushing his neck. Every so often, she whimpered, clutching weakly at his shirt.
His arms screamed. His legs ached. But he never slowed.
When the farmhouse finally appeared under the moonlight, Lloyd kicked the door open with his foot. He carried her straight to his room, laying her gently on his bed.
In the dim light, he saw her face clearly for the first time. Even drugged and trembling, she was beautiful enough to steal his breath for half a second.
But now wasn't the time.
He grabbed water, towels, anything that could help purge the poison. His hands moved quickly, his expression unreadable.
Tonight, saving her came first.