The late morning sun filtered gently through the trees as Xenia adjusted the deer on her shoulder, half of its weight pressing into her back while Tenorio carried the other side. The vine they had tied it with was starting to dig into her palm, but she didn't complain. Behind them, Gabriel walked with a lightness in his step, his usual frown softened by satisfaction.
They emerged from the woods and back into the clearing where Gabriel's cabin sat—rough-hewn, fortified with salvaged metal and thick logs, and now surrounded by people and motion. The once-quiet hideout was buzzing.
"There they are!" Brie's voice broke the stillness.
She stood beside her Marga, both bent over a patch of stubborn grass. They had been plucking the weeds with small sickles, their sleeves rolled up and their cheeks flushed with exertion.
"You better not be dragging that stinky thing into the cabin," Marga added, half-teasing, half-serious.
"No worries," Gabriel called out cheerfully. "We'll clean it out back."
Xenia shared a glance with Tenorio. He gave her a brief smile, one of those rare ones he saved for moments when no bullets were flying and no one was screaming.
As they moved toward the butchering area—an old wooden table shaded by a half-built roof—Xenia took in the scene. It was still strange to see so many people working together.
To the east, Rice and Rafe—two young men they had taken in after three hours—were focused on the perimeter. They had laid down sticks and nylon cords to measure where the fence would go. Each step was methodical. Rafe scribbled notes on a torn notebook while Rice drove a stick into the ground with a rock.
The transformation of this place was undeniable.
Gabriel looked around and let out a low whistle. "Would you look at that," he said to no one in particular. "I used to wake up to silence and birdsong. Now I get hammering and gossip."
"Better than waking up to dead people eating your leg," Tenorio muttered.
Gabriel chuckled. "Can't argue with that."
Anna emerged from the cabin, her usually stern face softened by a hint of a smile. "There's soup on the stove. Don't let it burn while you're admiring your kingdom."
"Soup?" Gabriel lit up. "You cooked?"
Anna gave him a withering look. "Don't make it weird."
"I'm just surprised you didn't use medical gauze as seasoning," he joked.
Anna rolled her eyes but didn't deny her amusement. "Lunch is ready in twelve. Someone tell the twins."
"They're already out there," Xenia said, nodding toward Rico and Rafe.
"I meant the other twins," Anna replied dryly. "The mean ones."
"Brie and Marga?" Gabriel smirked. "You call them the mean twins?"
"They'd poison you if it didn't take so much effort."
Xenia chuckled under her breath and turned toward the table. They began preparing the deer. Tenorio handled the knife with precision, slicing the meat cleanly while Gabriel helped separate bones and sinew. Xenia stayed silent, organizing the portions and packaging some in scrap cloth for drying.
But as she worked, her mind drifted.
Caleb.
Charlie.
Conrad.
She still wasn't sure what unsettled her more—their disbelief in what she'd said about the infection, or the fact that their world was still untouched. The contrast felt surreal. Like they were trapped in some false reality, still safe in a chapter of the book that the rest of the world had already closed.
What if they were still there next week? Next month? Would they survive without knowing what was coming?
Xenia tightened the twine around a package of venison.
Gabriel noticed the way her hands slowed. "Thinking about them?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "They don't believe us. It's like we walked into a time bubble. It's dangerous."
"They've got that peaceful thing going for them," he said. "I get why they don't want to believe it."
"Peace doesn't stop a bite," she muttered.
Tenorio looked up briefly. "We warned them. That's more than most people got."
"Still," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "Caleb was… helpful."
Tenorio raised an eyebrow. "Helpful?"
"He gave advice. Offered to help with vines and fences. That sort of thing."
Gabriel grinned knowingly. "Oh, that sort of thing."
"Stop," she said flatly, but her ears tinged red.
"You think he's cute?" Tenorio asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't think anything," she snapped, too fast. "It's just—they're good people. And good people die when they're not ready."
Silence fell again. Gabriel nodded slowly, expression turning solemn. "We'll go back in a few days. See if anything's changed."
Xenia gave a tight nod, then stood. "I'll go help with the measurements."
As she walked toward Rice and Rafe, she felt the warmth of the midday sun against her back. She passed by Brie and Marga, who were now sitting on the ground, rubbing their hands and complaining about blisters.
"Tell me again why I'm pulling grass like a farm animal?" Brie groaned.
"Because you are a farm animal," Marga muttered. "Now pass the salve."
Xenia managed a rare smile.
When she reached the fence line, Rice handed her one end of the nylon cord without question. Rafe marked a spot in the soil with a stick, then nodded in approval.
"It'll cover the whole northeast corner," he said. "Should give us more room to plant."
"Good," Xenia said simply.
But even as they planned and measured, her mind kept circling back to Conrad's cabin. That quiet farm with ripe vegetables, sun-warmed porches, and the unmistakable vulnerability of people who still believed the world hadn't changed.
She hoped they'd listen next time.
Because next time… might be too late.