"They are only scouting," Aramis confird. "There are four of them."
Lara handed the baby back to Atalia, her eyes scanning the ridge. Without a word, the group moved, finding shelter between two massive, lichen-covered boulders. The air hung still, heavy with tension.
Silently, Lara drew her bow, the smooth curve of it familiar in her grip. One by one, Alaric, Aramis, Redon, and the two Masters at the rear followed suit. No words passed between them; they didn’t need them.
The scouts could not stay alive.
Six arrows flew. Six thuds answered.
The figures vanished into the dense underbrush, slipping away like whispers of darkness retreating into the earth’s embrace, like fallen shadows.
"We keep moving," Alaric ordered, his tone final.
Logan motioned to the path ahead. "There’s a cavern further down. Hidden behind a curtain of vines and ancient trees. If we reach it before nightfall, we can spend the night safely there."
Lara hesitated, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "A dead-end?"
"A trap," Alaric said flatly. "But one we control."
"No, not a dead end. It is a shortcut to the river, just a half-day walk. When we crossed the river, it would be our village, and you could reach the town of Fereya in another half day." Logan added as he scanned the horizon. The jungle would be cloaked in darkness soon. "But we need to move fast. Night is coming."
They moved again, faster this ti. The group was tired, but fear lent strength to weary limbs. The children sensed the tension and stayed quiet. Even the youngest ones, clutching worn dolls or polished stones, moved with the seriousness of old souls.
Twilight swallowed the jungle, turning green to shadow. Then, at last—they saw it: a wall of jagged stone rising at the end of the ravine. A massive banyan tree clung to it, its aerial roots like withered arms draped across the rock face. The tree must have been centuries old. The roots had beco trunks in their own right—twisted, gnarled and ancient, looking eerie in the dusk.
Logan darted ahead. With a sweep of his blade, he slashed away the vines, revealing a low, black opening between three weathered boulders. "Here!"
Amnon paused, his heart racing as his gaze darted between Atalia and the fragile newborn cradled in her arms. The air was thick with tension, and a sense of foreboding hung over him like a storm cloud. Shadows played across his face, revealing the turmoil churning within. He was acutely aware of the lurking dangers of walking through the cave’s pathways. A deep concern gnawed at him, fear that he might fail to lead his family safely through the treacherous path ahead.
What if Atalia slipped? He wanted to carry the baby but she was too small, too fragile and he was scared to even hold her.
Lara extended her hand to take the baby. "Let carry her. I am used to this kind of path."
Amnon heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
Jethru lit a torch and crept into the cavern first. "Checking for snakes and spiders," he muttered. Monts later, his voice echoed faintly: "It’s safe."
One by one, they entered.
The cavern was cold and damp, the walls slick with moss. It extended just far enough to hold them, barely. Lara and Alaric began stacking stones and branches across the mouth to create a makeshift barricade. Agilus positioned himself just behind it, eyes narrowed, senses sharp, peering into the darkness beyond.
Jethru and Orion built a makeshift oven and started cooking the ga they had hunted earlier. They did not roast it, but cooked it in bamboo tubes they had cut to prevent releasing a telltale scent of cooking.
Lara crouched beside a boy whose feet were blistered raw. She washed the wounds, applied salve, and wrapped them with linen strips. "You did well," she whispered. The boy did not even flinch.
From the shadows ca the sharp cry of a newborn. Atalia rocked the baby, trying to soothe her. Lara ca over, checked quickly, then gave a faint smile.
"She pooped."
Atalia looked worried. They had limited ti to escape, and most of the cloth diapers were already soiled.
Lara rummaged in her backpack, producing swaths of clean cotton. "Here—use this."
Atalia’s eyes welled. "Thank you." She looked at Lara with an adoring gaze. She seed to have everything and knew everything. She was thankful that she was with her. If not, she and her daughter would already be dead.
As the fire flickered lower and the cave hushed with sleep, Alaric sat beside Lara. From his coat, he took a velvet apple. In the dim glow, he peeled it and cut them into slices. He handed her a slice.
"I saw you hadn’t eaten much earlier. Eat this." Alaric said with a hint of doting. In the flickering firelight, his eyes looked even gentler.
The fruit was tart and sweet. The mont lingered.
From across the cave, Logan stirred. His eyes flicked to them—Lara’s slight smile, the warmth in Alaric’s voice. Sothing unfamiliar tightened in his chest. Was it jealousy? He shook the thought. Lara was his protector, no ... not that.
Then he felt it—sothing soft against his arm.
Yohana had fallen asleep beside him, her head gently leaning on his shoulder.
He froze. Then, careful not to wake her, he shifted so her head rested more comfortably on his upper arm.
At dawn, Zeeta stirred first, rousing her children. Percival moved through the cave, waking the rest.
"Yohana, wake up." Zeeta gently nudged her daughter, catching sight of her curled against Logan. Her cheeks flushed with quiet sha.
Last night, she was so tired that she just fell asleep on the mat that she had lain down on the floor. She did not realize there was no space left for Yohana.
"I’m sorry," she whispered. "She must’ve..."
"It’s no trouble at all," Logan replied, voice soft.
Breakfast was quick. They only had roasted sweet potatoes and foraged berries.
Then they entered the heart of the cave which was narrow, winding, and slick. Logan led, torch in hand. The path twisted like a serpent, pressing in on all sides. Ti blurred.
Three hours in, the darkness began to thin. A faint, distant roar reached them.
"Water," Jethru breathed.
Suddenly, he and Orion sprinted ahead, childlike in their urgency. When they burst from the cave mouth, they inhaled the open air like survivors from a drought.
But then they stopped. Looked around.
Their shoulders sank.
What they saw wasn’t freedom.
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