Evelyn's POV.
By the second hour of walking, my shoes were soaked, my phone was dead, and my patience was flirting with sarcasm.
The forest was quieter now, too quiet, except for the constant squelch of my shoes in the mud and the occasional rustle of leaves behind us.
The nonchalant man walked ahead like he belonged here, long strides, head low beneath his dark hat, not even glancing back to see if I'd collapsed from exhaustion or stepped in another puddle, which I had. Twice.
"I'm not made for this," I muttered under my breath.
"What?" he called without turning.
"Nothing. Just talking to the mosquitoes."
His silence was smug.
The sky had settled into a dull gray blanket, and even the wind had lost interest in drama.
I was sticky with sweat and frustration.
My fingers were numb from cold and nerves but it wasn't just the weather eating at me.
It was him — walking just out of reach, mysterious and maddening, like a puzzle missing half the pieces but still throwing shade about it.
I hated the way he moved so confidently through the wild.
I hated that I felt safer when he was near.
I hated that I didn't know his name.
And I really hated the moment the earth gave out beneath my feet...
"Aaaah"
I yelped as my body slid down a slick slope, a mess of moss, wet roots, and betrayal.
My hands clawed at the mud, but it was no use.
I skidded several feet, crashing into a shallow ravine with a splash that soaked me to the waist.
"Evelyn!" His voice, sharp and startled.
I sat up, spitting mud and rainwater, trying not to cry.
He appeared a second later, jumping down after me.
His expression was shadowed beneath his hat, but I could feel the pulse of alarm in his voice. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I hissed. "Just humiliated."
He offered a hand, I stared at it, then at him.
I didn't want to take it. I really didn't.
But his face was so beautiful in that cruel and unfair way.
Who would say no to take the hand of a beautiful man? Even though I was so angry at him, I couldn't let it take the best of me.
I took his hand, and he pulled me up without effort.
Too much strength in too little movement.
My body pressed against his for the briefest moment, and I hated the way my heart reacted.
He noticed and let go fast.
"Come on," he said gruffly. "There's a stream nearby. You're a mess."
"Thanks," I muttered. "That's exactly what I needed to hear."
The stream wasn't far.
It shimmered through the trees like a secret, wide enough to bathe in, shallow enough not to drown in. I made a mental note of that.
I stood at its edge, caked in dirt, my clothes clinging to me, the cold seeping through the fabric like punishment.
Behind me, Zayn glanced around the clearing, then gave me a short nod. "I'll keep watch. You've got ten minutes."
I hesitated. "Turn around."
He did, no hesitation, no question. Just turned and faced the trees.
That should've helped but it didn't.
Everything felt too exposed.
I stripped off my shirt first, then the rest, all of it soaked through.
When I peeled off my last layer, a shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
My bare feet hit the water, and I winced.
It was cold, then turned out to be warm, then... something else entirely.
The stream curled around my skin like silk, like memory.
It shimmered faintly beneath the surface as if it knew me, welcomed me.
When I moved, it moved with me, not violently but gently like it listened.
Was that normal?
I didn't know and I didn't want to think too hard about it.
I eased in, arms wrapping around myself, eyes on the treetops.
The stream glowed faintly beneath the surface, a soft shimmer like starlight.
I blinked.
Then it was gone.
Probably the light playing tricks.
But I felt something, a calm pulse beneath the surface.
And when I moved my fingers, the water responded... followed. Just a little.
I stared, breath caught, then let it go.
No.
I was imagining things, it was just water. Just water.
I dipped under once, twice, scrubbing at the mud, my arms, my hair.
My hands trembled from more than the cold, exhaustion, adrenaline, hunger and something I couldn't quite name.
Not fear, not exactly.
When I rose from the water, dripping and exposed, I called out without looking. "Don't turn around."
"Wasn't planning to," He answered. His voice was close but calm, like this was routine for him like he had seen and survived worse.
"I don't have dry clothes," I snapped, suddenly furious. "You dragged me into the woods with nothing, you didn't even let me go back for a sweater—"
He turned halfway, holding something out.
His coat.
"Take it."
I froze.
It was long, dark, thick, and oddly elegant for someone living off-grid.
I stared at it for a moment, arms folded over my chest. "You're just giving me your coat?"
"Borrowing. Only until your clothes dry. There are important things in the pockets. So I will want it back."
"What kind of things?" I asked, suspicious.
His gaze met mine not invasive, but direct. "Things that matter to me."
I blinked. "You carry secrets in your coat?"
"You carry sarcasm like a shield. We all have our methods."
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile.
Reluctantly, I took it, wrapping it around myself like a robe.
It swallowed me and it warm from his body heat, the scent of pine and something darker clinging to the fabric.
"Thank you," I said, quieter than I meant to.
He nodded once, then turned away.
"You'll have to carry my wet clothes," I said, stepping toward him barefoot and dripping. "Unless you want me to leave them here for the squirrels."
He gave me a deadpan look, then held out a bundle of bark and moss. "Use this. Tie them up."
"Ugh" I groaned and I did like he told me to.
My wet clothes clung together in a makeshift wrap, heavy and cold in my arms.
"You're very resourceful," I muttered.
"I grew up learning how not to die."
The way he said it, flat and too calm made something tighten in my chest.
I wanted to ask what that meant, but his body was already turning away again, pacing toward the trees.
I followed him through the woods like a wraith, barefoot, wrapped in his coat.
I hated the way it made me feel — protected.
I made this chapter longer, i kept my promise. Anyway is Evelyn intersting with her sarcasm and humor, trust me that's only the beginning, more are coming.