The child didn't say much after they set off. He walked in silence, his thin arms clutching a patched-up satchel close to his chest, eyes flicking between the trees as if expecting something to jump out at any moment. The woods were quiet except for the soft rustle of their steps and the occasional call of a bird overhead. But even that felt distant, muted, like the world was holding its breath.
Nova kept pace beside Rell, occasionally glancing at him. His clothes were torn and too big, cinched at the waist with frayed rope. Dirt caked his hands and cheeks, and there was a raw edge to the way he carried himself—wary, half-wild.
She knew that look. She remembered wearing it.
After an hour, they stopped for water near a moss-covered outcrop. Theo crouched to refill the canteens while Ayen kept watch uphill. Rell sat alone, his knees pulled to his chest, not touching the food Nova had offered earlier.
"You're not hungry?" she asked softly, settling beside him.
He shrugged. "I ate yesterday."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't eat today."
He stared at the dirt. "If I eat now, I might not have food later."
Nova fell silent for a moment. Then she pulled a small protein bar from her pouch and held it out again. "Then let's make a deal. You eat this now, and I promise, if we ever run out of food, I'll go hungry before you do."
His head turned slowly. "Why?"
"Because someone did that for me once. And I'm still here because of it."
Rell's fingers hovered, unsure, before he finally took the bar and unwrapped it. He didn't thank her. He didn't need to. The act of accepting was thanks enough.
Theo returned then, wiping his hands. "We'll keep moving another mile or two. Find a better spot to camp. We're too exposed here."
Ayen gave a quick nod from her post. "And we're not alone."
Theo turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
She pointed back the way they'd come. "I saw movement in the treeline. Could be a scout drone. Could be a person."
Nova stiffened. "How long do we have?"
"Hard to say."
Theo looked at Rell. "You said they come through here often. How many?"
Rell hesitated. "Sometimes one. Sometimes three. They don't talk. They don't search like people. They just… float through. Like they already know what they're looking for."
Theo's jaw tightened. "How do they track?"
"I don't know. Maybe sound. Or heat. Or something else. They don't chase. If they see you, they mark you and move on. Then more come."
Ayen cursed under her breath. "Scouts. They tag survivors. Let the sweepers clean up later."
"We're leaving," Theo said. "Now."
They moved fast this time. Nova carried Rell on her back when his legs got tired, his arms looped around her neck. He didn't weigh much. That fact made her chest ache.
As dusk settled, they found an overgrown ravine—a natural trench covered in ferns and vine, hidden from the path. They crawled into the hollow and covered the entrance with brush, settling in beneath the earth.
The air was damp and close, filled with the scent of moss and wet stone. They didn't light a fire. Didn't speak above a whisper. Even Rell understood the gravity of the moment.
Night fell like a curtain, and silence returned.
That's when the hum began.
It started faint—almost like wind. But too steady. Too precise.
Nova held her breath as a pulse of blue light filtered through the branches above them. The faint shimmer of a scanner beam. Then another. Then silence.
The hum faded.
They stayed still for a long time, hearts pounding.
Rell's whisper broke the stillness. "It didn't stop because it didn't find us. It stopped because it did."
Theo met Nova's eyes across the hollow.
He knew. She knew.
Whatever was out there—it wasn't guessing. It wasn't looking blindly. It knew where they were now.
And it was waiting.