[Win – Forest Clearing – 6:30 p.m.]
The forest is a black cage, trees swallowing the last of the sunset.
Palm's burning against me, his fever is like a flame under his skin.
He's curled on the moss, shivering, his arm's gash oozing red in our weak shelter of branches.
My pipe lies beside me, cold in the dirt, useless against what's killing him.
Moans are drifting through the trees low, hungry, not close but never far.
The air's thick, damp, smelling of earth and rot.
I hold Palm's hand, his fingers icy despite the heat pouring off him.
"Win," he whispers, in thin voice, "I'm scared."
His eyes are wide, glinting in the fading light, like he sees something I can't.
My throat tightens.
I've never heard him say that before.
[6:35 p.m.]
The dark creeps closer, shadows bleeding into the clearing.
Palm's shaking harder, teeth chattering, sweat soaking his shirt.
I pull him against me, his head on my chest, trying to warm him.
"You're okay," I say, my voice cracking.
It's a lie.
His skin's too hot, his breath too fast.
The gash on his arm looks wrong, swollen, red veins snaking upward.
A moan cuts through the trees, sharp and close.
My hand grips the pipe, heart slamming.
Not now.
Not when he's like this.
"Win," Palm gasps,
"if they come… don't let them hurt me."
His voice breaks, fear raw, like a kid's.
I swallow hard, my own fear clawing up.
[6:40 p.m.]
The moans grow two or maybe three, shuffling in the dark.
I can't see them, but the forest feels alive, watching.
Palm's eyes dart, wild, tracking shadows I don't see.
"I don't want to die," he whispers, gripping my sleeve so tight it hurts.
"You won't," I say, fiercer than I feel.
But my hands shake, pipe heavy, useless if a horde comes.
I'm scared too, scared of the moans, the dark, and most fear is of losing him.
His fever's burning through me, like it's eating us both.
I pull him closer, my lips brushing his hair.
"Palm," I whisper, voice trembling, "I can't do this without you."
He looks up, eyes fever-bright but locked on mine.
My heart stutters.
The magical words spill out, raw and desperate.
"I love you."
[6:45 p.m.]
The night's full now, stars hidden by clouds.
A twig snaps, too close.
The moans are back, circling, hungry.
Palm's breath catches, a tear cutting through the sweat on his cheek.
"Win…" he whispers, his hand finding mine, squeezing with what strength he has left.
"I love you too."
His voice is weak, broken, but it's there real, cutting through the fear like light in the dark.
I lean down, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss is soft at first, then desperate tasting of sweat and blood and everything we've lost.
It's not perfect. It's not like in stories.
It's us, in this hell, clinging to each other.
His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek, wiping away tears I didn't know were there.
"I've been scared too," I confess, voice hoarse against his skin.
"Scared of saying it. Scared of losing you before I could."
He pulls me closer, his forehead on mine, breaths mingling.
"We're here now," he murmurs, eyes closing.
The moans swell, branches snapping closer.
My heart races, fear and love crashing together.
I kiss him again, deeper, like it's the last thing I'll do.
[6:50 p.m.]
The shadows move — Basics, eyes glinting in the dark.
I don't know how many.
I don't care.
They're not taking him.
I grab the pipe, standing over Palm, my body a shield.
He tries to rise, but his strength's gone, slumping back.
"Win… be careful," he whispers, his voice fading.
I nod, tears blurring my vision.
The first Basic lunges, claws outstretched.
I swing, the pipe cracking its arm.
It staggers, but another follows.
The forest is alive with moans, closing in.
My arms burn, my breath ragged, but Palm's "I love you too" echoes in my head.
It's enough.
It has to be.
[6:55 p.m.]
A Screamer's wail splits the air, shaking the trees.
The horde surges, shadows twisting into shapes.
I fight, pipe swinging wild—
CRACK, THUD, SNAP.
One grabs my sleeve; I shove it back, pipe to its knee.
It falls, but they keep coming.
Palm's voice cuts through, weak and desperate.
"Win!"
I glance back and he's trying to stand, eyes wide with fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
My chest aches, love and terror mixing.
I can't let him watch me die.
[7:00 p.m.]
Another Basic charges, teeth bared.
I swing but miss.
Its teeth sink into my arm, sharp and cold.
Pain sears, blood hot and wet.
I scream, pipe falling, the forest spinning.
Palm's cry echoes faint and broken.
I swing at it and Basic pulls back, eyes empty, moans closing in.
The dark swallows everything Palm's face, his voice, our love.
I collapse beside him, blood pooling, my hand still reaching for his.