Gavin woke first. He always did.
The air inside their shelter was stiff and unmoving, cold in a way that didn't just cling to skin, but settled in the chest. Lux snored quietly beside him, curled into a thin blanket. Varik slept half propped against the wall, arms crossed and expression tense, as if even unconsciousness couldn't fully claim him.
Gavin pushed aside the tarp door and stepped out into the alley.
Dawn didn't bring light here.Just a softer shade of darkness.
He rolled his shoulders, stretched aching muscles, and listened. Footsteps in the distance. The low hum of a broken generator trying to live another hour. A cough somewhere behind the stacked metal sheets. Nothing unusual. Nothing safe. Life here always existed in the "in-between," too aware to rest, too tired to flee.
Lux crawled out behind him, rubbing his eyes. "Morning…"
Varik followed a moment later. "If you call this morning," he muttered, kicking frost off his boot. "Feels the same as last night. Just colder."
"It's always colder," Gavin said. "Eat first."
Food was a strip of synth jerky they divided unevenly, Gavin always taking the smallest piece, Lux always pretending not to notice. They chewed in heavy silence, letting the meager heat settle in their bellies.
A shout echoed from deeper in the blocks; sharp, desperate. A woman's voice. Then a crash. Something metal being thrown.
Lux flinched. Gavin put a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Stay close," he said. "We move."
They walked single file through the narrow pathways between stacked debris. Here, walls were made of welded scrap, collapsed frameworks, old train parts repurposed into shelter. If the world had forgotten this place, the people living here learned to forget it back.
Ahead, a small crowd had gathered. Not mobbing. Just… watching. Curiosity dulled by fatigue.
A man had pinned another against a crate, fist raised, knuckles split and bleeding.
"You took my heat-pack," he snarled. "Give it back!"
"I didn't! I swear,I didn't touch your shit!" The first punch landed with a crack. The second splattered blood onto the frost.
Lux tensed as if to move, but Gavin blocked him with an arm.
"We don't step in," Gavin said. "Not unless we have to."
"But—"
"Lux."
The warning was enough.
Varik watched too, expression unreadable. "Heat-pack's worth a week of warmth. I'd kill someone for it too."
Lux shot him a horrified look.
Varik shrugged. "Don't look at me like that. I'm honest, not evil."
The fight ended when the pinned man stopped moving. Not dead,but not far from it. The aggressor spat, grabbed something from the ground, and walked off. The crowd dispersed as if nothing happened.
Here, violence didn't shock.
It simply existed.
"Let's go," Gavin said.
They moved toward the marketplace,not a real market, just a stretch of ground where people tried to trade whatever they managed to salvage. Broken electronics, patched gloves, jars of solidified broth. Lux paused in front of a stall where a little girl held up a rusted toy robot with missing limbs.
"It still works," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "Only ten credits."
Lux didn't have ten credits.
He didn't have one
He offered her a small smile anyway. "It's cool."
Her expression brightened a bit. Small kindnesses were rare,they hit harder than cruelty.
Gavin tugged Lux's coat lightly. "Later."
Varik snorted. "You're too soft, Lux. Someone like her could pickpocket you clean."
"Maybe," Lux said quietly, "but she's still just a kid."
"We're kids," Varik replied
Lux didn't answer.
They continued walking. A guard tower rotated lazily far above, its spotlight flickering over rooftops. Gavin's eyes tracked its rhythm, memorizing its pattern without thinking. It had saved their lives more than once.
A group of older teens rounded a corner ahead,hard stares, heavier clothes, wrapped fists. They weren't Frostwalkers, but they didn't need a name to be dangerous.
Their leader stepped forward. Tall, sharp-faced, wearing a scarf that looked too clean to have come from this place.
"Well," he said, smirking at Gavin. "Look who's out early. The charity cases."
Varik muttered, "Great."
Lux swallowed.
Gavin stood straight. "We're not in your way."
"You are," the older boy said. "So move."
Gavin didn't move.
Behind him, Lux trembled. Varik clenched his jaw, already calculating.
The leader flicked his eyes toward Lux. "The pretty one looks nervous. You scare easy, kid?"
Gavin stepped forward, blocking Lux completely. "Keep your eyes on me."
The older boy scoffed. "You talk like you matter."
He shoved Gavin's chest.
Gavin didn't budge.
Tension snapped like a wire.
The older teen swung. Gavin slipped the punch and slammed his elbow into the boy's ribs,clean, efficient, controlled. The boy wheezed and stumbled back.The others advanced.
Varik whispered, "Three left."
Gavin gave one command: "Stay behind me."
It wasn't bravado. It was certainty.
The next boy rushed in; Gavin caught his wrist, twisted, and drove a knee into his stomach. The third hesitated, seeing both of his friends on the ground.
Varik stepped forward with a grin. "Come on. Try it."
The boy backed away, dragging the others with him, muttering curses that didn't sound convincing.
Lux exhaled shakily. "Gavin… you okay?"
"Fine," Gavin said. "They'll try again later."
Varik dusted his hands. "Good. Let them."
Gavin didn't answer. His eyes were already scanning the alleys, calculating how long until retaliation.
They moved on.
Life here didn't reward the strong.
It punished the weak.
And the boys were learning,day by day
which one they were allowed to be.