Zayn's POV.
The fire had died into embers, soft and red like breathing coals.
Night still hung low across the forest, but I could feel morning gathering somewhere behind the trees slow, reluctant, the way it always came in these parts. Damp and grey.
Evelyn slept near me, curled tightly in the long coat I'd given her, her lips slightly parted and her hand tucked beneath her cheek.
She didn't look dangerous like this or annoying or loud. Just... soft and peaceful in a way I hadn't expected her to be.
A curl fell across her face, she wrinkled her nose in her sleep and muttered something I couldn't make out.
I turned away really fast.
This was dangerous... not the monsters, not the voices in the woods, not even the old enemy who might still be trailing us.
This was dangerous.
Because for a moment I'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to matter.
I stood, brushing off moss from my knees, and slipped into the trees.
The air was cool but thick, humming with the quiet song of dawn.
I found a patch of berries, the dark kind, tart but edible — and scraped together some grubs under loose bark not ideal, but enough. Enough to keep her walking, at least.
She was still sleeping when I returned, her mouth hung open now with drool coming out and a bit of dried leaf had somehow stuck to her hair.
"Evelyn," I said, nudging her with my boot. "Wake up."
She groaned, rolled over, and buried her face deeper into her arm. "Don't wanna."
I crouched beside her. "It's already late. The longer we stay, the easier it'll be for her to find us."
"Her?" she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Who's her?"
I didn't answer.
"Some shadow thing?" she muttered again, still groggy. "Please tell me it's not worse than whatever we've already seen."
I sighed, "Come on wake up"
"I'm dying," she whined. "This is actual murder. I'm being tortured."
"You're being woken up."
"Same thing."
I shoved a handful of berries toward her face. "Breakfast."
She squinted at them like I'd offered her poison. "What are those?"
"Edible."
"That's not exactly comforting."
"And grubs," I added, opening my other palm. "They're protein."
Her entire face scrunched up like she'd licked rust. "You're joking."
"No," I said flatly.
"I'm not eating bugs."
"Then starve."
"I mean, fruits I could try, but they look poisonous."
I stood abruptly, wiping my palms on my trousers. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'll let you search for food while I nap."
"Ugh," she groaned again, dragging herself upright with exaggerated effort.
Her hair was tangled, her eyes half-lidded, and she looked like someone who'd barely survived a shipwreck, dramatic, stubborn, and ungrateful. "Fine. Thanks for the death berries and crunchy larvae. Appreciate it."
I didn't answer.
She looked at me from beneath messy lashes. "Are you mad?"
"Why would I be mad?" I muttered.
She sighed, glancing down at the coat. "I'll give this back. I think my clothes are dry now."
She stood slowly, stretched with a wince, took her clothes that were beside the fire ashes and then turned to dress behind a tree.
I heard her muttering something about how cave people probably bathed more than she had this week.
When she returned, she was wearing the same clothes from the night before, stiff now from drying near the fire, with mud stains she hadn't bothered to brush off.
She held the coat in both hands and passed it to me.
"Thanks. Again," she said, a little more sincere this time.
I nodded and took it back.
She stared at me as I slid my arms back into the coat. "So. No breakfast for me?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, holding up her hands in surrender. "Message received."
We started walking again, her footsteps lighter now, but her stomach clearly not thrilled.
I didn't offer her the berries again.
The forest was different in the morning not friendlier, exactly but quieter.
There were fewer sounds behind the trees, less of that feeling of being watched even the shadows weren't as long.
"You really do know how to survive out here," she said after a while.
"It's not about survival," I said. "It's about knowing the rules."
"And you know all the rules?"
I paused. "Enough to stay alive."
"Then why are we running?"
That made me glance at her — she wasn't mocking me, not this time. Just asking.
"Because sometimes surviving means running," I said. "Even when you know how to fight."
She nodded slowly, like she was turning the answer over in her head.
We kept walking.
She didn't complain again — not about the hunger, not about the mud, not even about the twigs that caught her sleeves and I noticed it, how quiet she was now, not out of attitude, but because she was thinking.
The silence between us wasn't awkward anymore.
It was something else.
Comfortable, maybe. Dangerous, definitely.
Because the less she spoke, the more I noticed her.
The way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating.
The way she bit the inside of her cheek when the path twisted steeply downhill.
The way she let her hand brush against the trees sometimes, like she needed to feel the world to believe it.
She wasn't like anyone I'd met.
And that was a problem.
Because I couldn't protect someone who pulled me off balance just by being-
"You're staring," she said suddenly, glancing over.
"No, I'm not."
"You were."
"Just trying to figure out how much longer you'll survive without food."
"Forever," she grinned faintly. "I'll become a forest elf. Eat leaves and sing to birds."
I smirked. "The birds would die."
"Hey!"
"I'm just saying."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue further.
And as we continued through the trees, her footsteps growing steadier beside mine, I knew something had shifted.
Not in the forest.
Not around us.
But between us.
And I wasn't sure if I liked it.