Fiona's footsteps whispered against the damp earth as she wandered, eyes flicking side to side. She wasn't entirely sure what she was searching for—only that something within her urged her onward. Her boots pressed into the soil with quiet rhythm, each step pulling her farther from the safety of the camp.
And still, she walked.
The trees rustled overhead, filtering early morning light through their tangled canopy. Fiona's fingers brushed past low-hanging branches, her brows pinched in quiet thought. She didn't notice how far she'd gone until the murmur of the campfire was a distant memory.
That's when she saw him.
Steve sat perched at the edge of a gentle slope, a soft breeze tousling his hair as he stared out at the landscape below. The sunlight caught the edges of his face—calm, composed—but there was a heaviness to his expression, like someone bearing more weight than they let on.
His wounds had been treated, his posture upright, but his thoughts were adrift.
