"And why should we believe you?" Cassandra asked, her voice sharp with distrust.
"I... I don't know," Lude stammered, shifting his weight. "It's just... I feel like you all need help."
"Why do you want to help us?" Cassandra sneered, her eyes squinting into thin slits as she searched his face for a lie.
Lude sighed, looking down at his worn boots. "Like I said, I really don't know. I just have a feeling that I should."
"Right. And that's exactly why I need you to leave us alone," Cassandra snapped. "You have no reason to be in our business. Random 'feelings' don't keep people alive."
"Cassandra, listen," Susan interrupted, placing a hand on her friend's arm. "I think he can really help us. We have no clue where we're going, and he sounds like he actually knows the way. It's better than wandering aimlessly."
Lude looked at them earnestly. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I truly want to help. I can't explain why, but I do."
Cassandra rubbed her temples, letting out a long, frustrated breath. "Ugh, I really can't do this right now. Fine," she growled, pointing a finger at him. "I guess you can stay. But if you do anything—anything—out of line, I won't hesitate to finish this."
Without another word, we followed Lude into the dense forest. He promised us that the woods held the best hiding places for the night. We walked for a grueling twenty minutes, our feet crunching over dry twigs, until we came upon a massive, ancient tree.
The tree had lost all its leaves, but the fallen foliage had piled up against its twisted roots, forming a natural, cave-like hollow.
"Wow, this is a perfect spot!" Susan cried, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she ran toward the clearing. She had always loved nature; even in the middle of a nightmare, she could find beauty in the bark and the dirt.
"I'll call it... let's see... oh! The Widow Tree," Susan said with a bright, tragic smile. "Yes, that will do."
Watching her, my heart ached. I didn't think Susan realized we were moving on again tomorrow, but seeing her happy made me keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to ruin her one moment of peace.
We sat in the shadows and ate our meager rations: a few crusts of stale bread and a little bit of watery soup.
"Disgusting," Lude muttered, staring into his bowl with a grimace. "Is this really what people have to eat?"
"Yes," I said, my voice flat. "So you better get used to it if you're coming with us."
As the moon rose, Susan and I curled up in the pile of dry leaves, using the hollow of the tree for warmth. Lude climbed up, finding a spot to perch within the thick, skeletal branches above us.
Susan fell asleep almost instantly, her breathing slowing into a rhythmic hum. I was drifting off myself when Lude's voice drifted down from the branches, barely a whisper.
"You know we're leaving on the train tomorrow, right?"
My eyes flew open. "I knew we were leaving," I whispered back into the dark, "but I didn't know about a train."
I waited for him to explain, but silence followed. With the weight of that new uncertainty heavy in my chest, I finally closed my eyes and let sleep take me.