The fire crackled, sending sparks up toward the cave's ceiling. The light sent shadows dancing across the cave walls—a silent, breathing audience to their misery.
A soft groan made him turn.
Naomi's purple hair spread across the makeshift pillow he'd fashioned from his spare shirt. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened.
"Xavier?" Her voice came out as a rasp.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The sight of her conscious swapped one weight for another—the dread of her death for the burden of her survival. Relief was a currency he couldn't afford.
Naomi pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing. "Where—" She stopped, her eyes losing their unfocused glaze as the last few hours crashed down on her. The village. The Knight. The desperate escape through shadows. "Just us?"
"Just us."
She sat up fully, one hand pressed to her temple. "The others?"
Xavier's jaw clenched. "Gone."
