Dawn arrived without color.
A gray light slipped through the frost-laced branches and into the shelter.
Lucas woke with a strangled sound.
His body felt as if the snow had settled inside his bones.
Every muscle burned.
Every breath hurt.
The wounded arm throbbed beneath bandages stiff with dried blood.
It took a few seconds to remember where he was. The forest. The makeshift hide.
Silence.
And then, like a spike driven into his chest, he remembered Naomi.
The memory of the shot cut through him again.
His mind tried to reject it, but it was useless.
He had seen everything, felt everything, even without looking back.
The echo of that bullet wouldn't fade. It kept replaying, over and over.
He sat up with effort. His throat burned.
He opened the canteen and drank greedily; the icy water scalded his tongue, but he didn't care.
His body needed liquid. His soul needed quiet.
For hours he did nothing but watch the thin fire he'd built the night before.
The coals died slowly, as if mirroring his own state.
He spent five days in that hole.
Five sunless mornings with nothing but the crack of kindling and the wind for company.
The physical pain began to recede, but the wound inside stayed open, deeper than ever.
He cursed himself in silence.
Again and again.
I could have killed him—the tracker. I had the chance.
But he hadn't. He'd knocked the boy out and spared him. He'd wanted to be better. To be human.
And Harlan… I had him in the first strike. If I'd just put my weight behind the blade, if I hadn't hesitated…
His fingers clenched; the arm bled anew.
Snow sifted across the mouth of the hide, muffling the sound of his ragged breath.
Naomi still looked at him in his mind: smiling, alive, sure.
That image was a knife.
—Forgive me… —he whispered, voice torn.
The echo bounced off the rocks and vanished.
No one to hear it.
No one to answer.
The days dragged.
Lucas barely slept. Barely ate.
The fire guttered out and left him in dimness more than once.
Sometimes he thought he heard steps outside, or the bear's distant roar, or voices… but they were only memories refusing to let go.
On the morning of the fifth day, the storm broke.
The sky, still gray, held an odd calm.
Lucas stood, body aching but steady.
He stepped out.
The air was knife-cold, but clean.
Snow threw back a blinding glow.
The forest was silent, as if watching him leave.
He looked one last time toward the valley he'd crossed.
Back there were the bodies, the blood, the loss—
everything he couldn't save.
—I'll keep going for you… —he murmured, barely audible—. I swear it, Naomi.
With that vow, he started walking.
His boots sank in with a slow, constant rhythm.
The echo of his tread was the only thing that broke the quiet.
Loneliness walked with him—cold, heavy—
and under it, a dull heat beginning in his chest:
a promise of redemption…
and of revenge.
---
Dawn wind hammered the walls of New Hope Refuge, lifting curtains of snow that glittered under the pale sky.
On the main road, a staggering shape pushed through the drift and out of the white.
Lucas.
He came on in clumsy steps, crusted with rime to the shoulders.
His coat was torn; the bandages on his arm were stained brown.
His eyes were hollow, emptied out—like he'd left something of himself out there.
He had.
The sentries knew him at once.
—Lucas! —one shouted from the wall—. Open the gate, now!
The gate creaked and men ran to meet him. They caught him before he dropped to his knees.
—Easy. You're home —one said, but Lucas didn't answer.
He only breathed, staring at the ground.
Warm air slammed into the cold of his clothes as they hauled him inside; steam rose off him in a weak cloud.
The corridors filled with whispers, a wave of worried faces.
And through them, a voice broke on his name.
—Lucas!
Megan shouldered past whoever stood in her way.
Her eyes widened when she saw him.
Wrapped in a heavy coat, hair wild, she threw her arms around him without thinking.
The contact made her shiver: his body was ice.
—God… —she breathed— what did they do to you?
He didn't answer. He only lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.
Elara arrived behind her at a quick stride, trailed by two Pioneers and Marla from the kitchen.
—What happened out there? —she asked, firm but held tight—. Where is Naomi?
The silence that followed was colder than the storm.
Lucas lifted his eyes a fraction.
His lips trembled, but no sound came.
Elara frowned and stepped forward.
—Lucas, I need to kn—
—Enough! —Megan's voice cracked through the hall, sharp and clean—. Can't you see? He's hurt!
Everything stilled.
She faced Elara, eyes wet but unflinching.
—First the infirmary. Then you can ask whatever you want.
Elara started to answer, but Megan held her with a look—
one that didn't give. Fear and fury, nailed together.
At last Elara nodded once and moved people aside.
—Fine. Take him.
Megan got under his good arm and helped him walk.
He barely kept his feet. Every step cost.
They passed the mess, the yellow-lit corridors, the same walls that, days ago, had held their laughter.
Now everything felt smaller. Farther.
The infirmary smelled of alcohol and clean metal.
Megan eased him onto a cot.
Her hands shook as she unwrapped the soaked bandages.
—It's okay… you're safe now —she whispered, voice breaking.
Lucas closed his eyes.
Safe weighed like a slab of stone.
He knew none of them truly were.
And the one who'd kept him alive out there… wasn't coming back.
Megan stared at him, tears held to a shine.
—What happened, Lucas? —she asked, barely above breath.
He didn't answer.
His jaw locked—and a single tear slid down.
Outside, wind sighed, soft as a far-off lament.
In the hush of the infirmary, the refuge remembered how to breathe.
And for the first time since they'd known him, Lucas didn't look like a Pioneer…
but like a broken man.
---
Sun leaked through the slats in thin strips.
The infirmary's quiet held, broken only by the tick of a temp monitor and the faint whistle of wind.
Lucas opened his eyes.
Pain in arm and chest smoldered like coals under the skin, but it was no longer blinding.
Fresh bandages. The sting of antiseptic.
It took a few beats to gather where he was.
He turned his head.
Megan slept slumped in a chair, cheek on the mattress edge.
Her hair fell across her face, and one hand still held his as if she hadn't allowed herself to let go all night.
He watched her in silence.
For an instant the full weight of his guilt lifted.
Just for her. Just a breath's worth.
He brushed her fingers with care.
She stirred, mumbled something, then jerked awake.
—Lucas! —her voice trembled.
She leaned over him and crushed him in a hug—. Thank God… I thought I'd never see you again.
He tried to answer, but the words caught.
He only held her, chest filling with a mix of relief and grief that burned hotter than the pain.
—You can't imagine what it was like seeing you come in like that —Megan said through little sobs—. I didn't want to sleep, in case something happened while I…
Lucas shook his head a fraction.
—I'm alive… because of you.
She pulled back, eyes red.
—Don't thank me. Just don't do this to me again, okay?
Before he could speak, the door opened.
Elara entered, steady as ever, with three Pioneers in her wake: Kellan, the big man with the gravel voice; Ramirez, tense as wire; and Elias, the youngest, eyes split between anger and dread.
The air thickened at once.
No one spoke for a moment.
Only wind filled the space.
Elara broke it.
—Lucas… we need to know what happened in Elden's Rest.
Megan met the captain's look with a hard one of her own.
—He just woke up. You could let him rest—.
—We can't —Elara said, not loud, but with the weight of too much responsibility—. It's been six days since we found him. It's time.
Lucas drew a long breath.
He looked at Megan, then at the others.
He knew he couldn't keep dodging this.
—All right —he said at last, voice thin—. I'll tell you everything.
Silence sealed the room.
Only the gray morning light stretched between the empty beds.
He told it all.
From their arrival in the town to the appearance of the other group.
How they split to search, how Naomi heard the steps, how he ran.
He described Harlan's crew, their abilities, the ambush, the torture…
The fight.
The desperation.
The death.
His voice broke more than once, but he didn't stop.
Even when he reached the moment Naomi screamed at him to run, or the shot that ended it, he kept talking.
Every line was a blow to his own chest, and he took each one.
When he finished, the silence was deep enough to hear the ice groan outside.
Kellan spoke first.
—So… you left her? —the big man asked, low.
—I had no choice —Lucas said, eyes on the floor.
—There's always a choice —Kellan stepped forward—. She trusted you and you ran.
—Enough! —Megan snapped to her feet—. Don't you dare. You have no idea what happened out there.
Kellan squinted at her, but said nothing.
Ramirez folded his arms.
—I still want to know —he said, flat—. Why didn't you take them out first? You knew those Pioneers were hostile.
Lucas clenched his teeth.
—Because I still believed we could be something other than animals.
—And that belief cost us Naomi —Ramirez's answer came cold.
Elara lifted a hand and the argument died.
—That's enough.
She came to the bedside and looked Lucas in the eye.
Her face stayed stern, but there was conflict in her gaze.
—I won't lie to you, Lucas. We all carry this. Naomi was one of us. Blame won't bring her back.
She paused.
—What matters is what you said about that group. Pioneers. Organized. Killers. If they have a refuge, then we are not alone—and not everyone out there wants peace.
Kellan lowered his head, swallowing whatever else he had.
Ramirez exhaled and looked away.
Elias stood there with guilt plain on his face; he had understood the shape of that truth.
Elara sighed and turned toward the door.
—I'll speak to Reed myself —she said—. He deserves to hear what happened to his wife.
The name hit the room like a stone dropped in deep water.
Lucas shut his eyes; his face trembled.
—I'm sorry… —he barely breathed—. I wasn't fast enough.
Megan slid her arms around him from behind, as if she could hold some of the weight for him.
—That's enough, Lucas. You did everything you could.
Elara paused at the door, looking back at the two of them.
—Rest. You'll need it. From now on… nothing will be the same.
She left, the Pioneers with her.
The door thumped shut and echoed.
Lucas lay back, staring at the ceiling, hollow-eyed.
Megan still held him, refusing to let go.
And under the wind's murmurs, one thought kept circling, one that wouldn't let him sleep that night or many after:
This time I lived… but I didn't deserve to.
---
Afternoon sun washed the central hall in pale amber.
Silence pooled there, cracked only by wood creaking under boots as people gathered.
The whole refuge had come: Pioneers, workers, cooks, mechanics, growers…
No one wanted to miss the assembly.
Elara had called it with a single line:
"It's time to know the truth."
Three days since Lucas woke in the infirmary.
Three days since Elara walked into Reed's workshop and told him. Naomi's husband.
No one knew what he said.
Only a strangled cry had floated out into the wind.
Since then the refuge's calm had frayed.
The looks aimed at Lucas had changed: some soft with pity, others hard with judgment.
He took them all in silence.
Now he sat in the front row beside Megan, arm bandaged, face composed.
She didn't let go of his hand.
Their fingers laced were the only anchor in a sea of murmurs.
Elara stood at the council table.
Her voice carried clear and firm, heavy with weight.
—Citizens of New Hope —she began—. Weeks ago we sent an expedition to Elden's Rest. The goal was to bring back supplies before the northern routes closed.
—The team was two Pioneers: Lucas and Naomi.
A ripple moved through the hall. Some already knew. Others waited, afraid to.
Elara drew breath.
—The expedition was ambushed by another group… another refuge. Humans. Pioneers, like us. But hostile. Organized. And lethal.
Silence dropped, thick as a blanket.
Even the generators seemed to hold a breath.
—Naomi was captured —Elara went on—. She fought to the end. Lucas… did everything he could to bring her home.
Her gaze found him.
Lucas didn't lower his head.
He held it up.
—I failed —he said into the quiet—. I take the blame. If I'd acted differently, Naomi would be alive.
Some looked at him with sorrow. Others with quiet contempt.
A woman muttered, and another voice rose:
—A Pioneer shouldn't fail like that!
—He left us one short!
—Enough! —Megan shouted, standing—. You don't know what happened out there! Don't judge him for surviving!
Elara's hand cut the air.
—That's enough. —Her tone snapped the room taut—. There will be no trial here. Lucas acted by his judgment. If he failed, he'll carry it. And everyone in this room knows what it means to face the world beyond the walls.
The murmuring ebbed, though the looks didn't.
Kellan, the giant, rose.
—With respect, Captain —his voice rumbled—, if there's another armed refuge out there, we have to act. We can't wait for them to come knocking.
—And you propose what? —Elias called from the other side—. Send more people to die? Barely those two made it back.
—We can't sit on our hands —Ramirez cut in—. Naomi was ours. Her body's out there. I'm not leaving her to rot in the snow.
Approval moved through the crowd.
Elara let the tension climb. Then:
—You all want justice —she said, slow—. But this isn't a hunt. We don't know what we're facing. It could be a handful… or an armed community.
—So what? —Kellan shot back—. We wait for them to find us?
—No. But we also won't march everyone into a grave —Elara answered, sharp.
A woman in the crowd lifted her voice.
—Naomi left a son here. Someone has to bring her home!
Noise swelled—shouts, arguments, crossfire of plans.
—Vengeance!
—No—caution!
—Vote!
—Yes, vote!
Elara closed her eyes a moment. There was no other way.
—Fine —she said at last—. We'll vote. But first— —her eyes went to Lucas—, there's one matter.
Silence came back.
Lucas knew what was coming.
Elara stepped closer.
—By council decision… and for your own sake, Lucas, you're suspended from duty until further notice.
Megan lurched to her feet.
—What? You can't do that to him!
—It isn't punishment —Elara said, even—. It's protection. He needs time to heal. To get his head back.
Her tone stayed firm, but her eyes were kind.
—You're one of us. But not our field Pioneer. Not now.
Lucas nodded once.
—I understand. I'll accept it.
Elara inclined her head in respect.
—Sometimes living is a weight you carry with honor, too.
Lucas rose, took Megan's hand, and walked out without looking back.
He felt the stares like pins between his shoulders: pity, scorn, understanding.
He answered none of them.
When the door closed, Elara faced the room again.
—All right. We vote.
—For a mission to Elden's Rest —Kellan said—: bring Naomi home. If we find the other refuge… make them pay.
Hands lifted—few at first, then most.
Elara counted, silent.
When she finished, she nodded slowly.
—The motion passes.
Kellan thumped a fist to the floor.
Ramirez squared beside him.
—We'll go —he said.
—And you'll take fifteen trained —Elara added—. No more. Fast operation. Clear objectives.
Her gaze swept the hall—: recover Naomi's body. Observe. Don't start a war… not yet.
The murmurs returned, tempered now.
Resolve. And fear.
Outside, the wind freshened, as if winter were listening.
---
Far from the noise, Lucas and Megan walked the narrow path toward their cabin.
Snow cracked under their boots; the sky thinned to a pale orange.
Voices still rose behind them in the refuge.
They went in silence until Megan finally spoke:
—You don't have to carry it all, Lucas. You're not alone.
He looked at her with a quiet sadness.
—Maybe not… but sometimes guilt weighs more than the cold.
She pulled him into an embrace there in the falling flakes.
And for the first time in a long time, Lucas let someone hold him without fighting it.