The dawn brought no warmth, only a tired, gray light that filled the rock alcove. Asher woke up feeling almost frozen. He hadn't truly slept, only dozed in short, fitful bursts, haunted by nightmares of fire, blood, and a strange symbol.
He looked over at Thea. She was still asleep, curled up in his coat, her hand still holding his. Asher didn't want to wake her, but he knew they had to move. Staying in one place for too long was dangerous. He gently shook her. She opened her eyes. The emptiness from yesterday seemed to have faded a little, replaced by a quiet fear.
They continued their journey. The stream from yesterday was now far behind them. Thirst and hunger quickly returned. Asher tried to find wild berries, but his limited knowledge of the forest didn't help much. He could only recognize a few types of berries that he knew were safe, and they were very rare.
Around noon, when Asher's legs could barely move, he saw it—an old dirt road, mostly covered by weeds, but he could still see the faint tracks of wagon wheels. A road meant people used it. If people used it, it had to lead somewhere.
A small spark of hope pushed Asher to lead Thea onto the road. They walked for about an hour before they heard a creaking sound and the soft bray of a donkey from up ahead. Asher's first instinct was to pull Thea into a bush by the side of the road. He peeked through the leaves.
A small, rickety cart was approaching, pulled by a donkey that looked just as old and tired. An old man with a bent back and white hair and beard sat on the cart, surrounded by pottery and dried herbs. A traveling merchant.
The old man suddenly stopped his donkey right near where the two siblings were hiding. Asher's heart pounded.
"Come on out, you two," the old man said in a raspy voice, looking straight ahead instead of at the bush. "No need to hide from me. An old man like me has nothing to steal, and I don't have the strength to harm anyone."
Asher hesitated for a moment. He squeezed Thea's hand, then decided to step out. It was better to face someone in the open than to be found while hiding. He pushed Thea to stand behind him, a protective gesture that had become an instinct.
The old man squinted at the two ragged, dirty children. His eyes moved from Asher's smudged face to Thea's frightened expression. His stern face seemed to soften a little.
"Where are you two headed?" he asked.
"Sir, we want to go to the capital," Asher answered quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Do you know the way?"
"The capital?" The old man let out a dry laugh. "That's a long way, kid. A long and unsafe way. Why are you two traveling alone?"
Asher looked down, not knowing how to answer. He couldn't say his village had been destroyed. He couldn't talk about the monster. And he definitely couldn't ask about the symbol. A simple kind of wisdom told him that knowing too much was dangerous, and letting others know what you knew was even more dangerous.
Seeing Asher's silence, the old man didn't ask any more questions. He sighed, a long, weary sigh of someone who had seen too much suffering. "These are troubled times. Bad things are happening everywhere," he muttered, then rummaged through his bags. "Here, take this and eat."
He handed Asher two pieces of dried fruit and a small, slightly hard loaf of bread. To the siblings at that moment, it was more precious than gold.
"Thank... thank you, sir," Asher stammered, taking the food with both hands.
"Just follow this road east," the old man said, pointing ahead. "It will lead to the main road. From there, you can ask for directions to the capital. But be careful. These woods haven't been safe lately. Avoid traveling at night."
With that, the old man urged his donkey on, and the rickety cart creaked away into the distance.
Asher waited until the cart was out of sight before he let out a breath of relief. He gave Thea a piece of the dried fruit. This time, she took it and slowly began to chew. The sweetness of the fruit seemed to awaken her senses a little.
They sat by the side of the road, silently eating the food the old man had given them. It was their first real meal since the tragedy. It couldn't heal the pain in their hearts, but it gave them the strength to go on.
The brief encounter had given Asher a real sense of hope. The road to the capital was no longer a vague idea. It was a real dirt path beneath their feet. It was dangerous, but it was their only way.
The energy from the small meal didn't last long, but the hope did. For the first time in two days, Asher felt a clear goal instead of just a desperate escape. The dirt road beneath his feet was a promise that it would lead to a place with people, with life.
They walked faster, trying to make the most of the remaining daylight. Asher kept glancing at Thea. She was still silent, but her steps were a little steadier. The sweetness of the dried fruit seemed to have brought a part of her soul back to her body.
However, the old man's warning echoed in Asher's ears. "These woods haven't been safe lately." He couldn't forget it. The deeper they went, the denser and darker the forest on both sides of the road became. The trees were twisted and bent like bony arms, and the sunlight struggled to get through the thick leaves. The sound of birds faded, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
Suddenly, Asher stopped. He pulled Thea close to him and signaled her to be quiet. His hearing, which had become unusually sharp, had just caught a sound. It wasn't the wind or a falling leaf. It was the snap of a dry twig up ahead, followed by a low, bloodthirsty growl.
Without a second of hesitation, Asher pulled Thea off the road and into a dense fern bush. He pushed her down to the ground, covering her mouth with one hand and pressing her head against his chest with the other. His heart was beating like a drum, but his actions were cold and decisive.
A few seconds later, they appeared.
A pack of five animals came out of the woods onto the road. They looked like wolves, but they were bone-thin, with mangy, gray fur that was missing in patches. The most terrifying thing was their eyes. They had no pupils, just deep sockets that glowed with a sick, green light, scanning back and forth like the lanterns of death. They moved silently and stealthily, their noses constantly sniffing the air.
The pack of "ghost wolves" stopped, less than twenty meters from where the siblings were hiding. The pack leader lifted its head, its long snout open to reveal a set of black, jagged teeth. It growled, and its ghostly eyes seemed to sweep over the bush where Asher was hiding.
Asher held his breath, his body frozen. He could feel Thea trembling in his arms. He was afraid the sound of his own heartbeat was loud enough for the monsters to hear. He saw that Thea was also scared, but she didn't struggle. Her small hands had come up to cover her own mouth, a desperate attempt not to make a sound. She was fighting on her own.
The moment felt like an eternity. The lead wolf stared at the bush for a few more seconds, then seemed to lose interest. It turned and led the pack deeper into the forest on the other side of the road.
Only when their footsteps had faded completely did Asher dare to slowly relax his muscles. He collapsed on the damp ground, panting. Cold sweat soaked his back. They had narrowly escaped death.
He looked at Thea. She was looking back at him, her eyes no longer empty, but filled with pure terror. It was a good sign. Fear meant she was back in reality.
"It's okay," Asher whispered, his voice hoarse. "They're gone."
The terrifying encounter had extinguished any remaining optimism. The old man's warning was not just an empty phrase. This road was not safe. This world was not safe. The monster with the symbol wasn't a single nightmare; it was just one part of a world full of nightmares.
They didn't dare go back on the road. As sunset began to paint the forest in a strange reddish-orange color, Asher decided to find another shelter. This time, he was more careful. He led Thea up a rocky hillside and found a narrow crack between two large boulders, just big enough for two children to squeeze into. This place was harder to reach and easier to defend than the tree hollow from the night before.
That night, Asher didn't sleep at all. He sat at the entrance of the crack, holding a sharp rock, his eyes fixed on the darkness below. The wooden bird was still in his pocket, a reminder of a lost world and a promise that had to be kept. He now understood. The journey to the capital wasn't just a trip.
It was a fight for survival. Every day, every night, every step.
The next few days passed in almost complete silence, a tiring cycle of survival. Asher decided to stay off the road. The road was a trap, an open path for predators. Instead, he led Thea parallel to it, moving through the dense forest. The journey became much harder and slower, but it felt safer.
They became little ghosts of the forest. They traveled by day and rested by night. Asher learned to recognize the signs of danger: an unusual silence from the animals, a strange footprint in the damp earth. He learned how to find underground water sources and how to identify a few types of edible roots, even though they tasted bitter. His body grew thinner, his clothes became torn, and his feet were blistered and bloody. But his eyes grew sharper, and the soft muscles of a child were slowly replaced by the tough, lean muscles of a survivor.
Thea remained his shadow. She got used to hiding, used to holding her breath at any strange noise. The terror in her eyes had faded, replaced by a tired resignation. She no longer cried or trembled, but she didn't say a word. Asher was both worried and relieved. He didn't know how he would answer if Thea asked about their parents, their village, or why they had to suffer through this.
Her silence was broken on the fifth day after they left the village.
They were resting under an old oak tree. Their lunch, like every other day, was just a few wild potatoes that tasted both bitter and raw. Asher was trying to chew his portion when he heard a faint whisper.
"Asher..."
He was startled and turned to look at Thea. Had he just imagined it?
"Asher," Thea repeated, a little clearer this time. She was looking at him, her big, round eyes no longer lifeless, but filled with a deep sadness. "I'm... I'm hungry."
Just three words. Three simple words. But to Asher, they were like a clap of thunder. Thea had spoken. His sister had actually spoken to him. She was no longer a shadow; she was here, aware, feeling. A wave of joy and sorrow washed over him at the same time. Joy because she was back. Sorrow because the first thing she said was a complaint about the hunger that he, as her brother, had failed to fix.
"I know," Asher tried to smile, though his throat felt tight. "I'll find something better. I promise."
Thea's words lit a new fire of determination in Asher. Wild potatoes and roots were not enough. He had to do more.
That day, he didn't just look for a path. He started to hunt. He used his father's carving knife to sharpen a long branch into a crude spear. He remembered how his father had taught him to set simple snare traps for rabbits. The skills from a childhood game were now his hope for survival.
He was patient. He spent hours watching a wild rabbit, learning its habits. And then, luck smiled on him. His trap snapped shut. He had caught his first meal.
Killing and preparing the animal was another experience. His hands trembled, but the image of a hungry Thea gave him the strength to do what needed to be done. Another piece of his childhood died there, next to the body of the rabbit.
That evening, for the first time in days, the two siblings had a hot meal. Asher built a small fire, carefully shielded in a rock alcove so the light and smoke wouldn't travel far. The delicious smell of roasted meat filled the air.
He tore off the best part of the meat, which was well-cooked, and gave it to Thea. She hesitated for a moment, then took it and began to eat slowly. The flickering fire danced in her eyes, and for the first time, Asher saw something other than fear and resignation. It was relief.
They ate in silence, but it was a completely different kind of silence. It was no longer heavy and suffocating. It was the silence of sharing a small victory, a rare moment of warmth and peace that they had won for themselves from this cruel world.
That night, after Thea had fallen asleep by the dying fire, Asher took out the wooden bird. In the firelight, he carefully finished the last few details. The wooden bird was now complete. It wasn't perfect, it still had clumsy scratches, but it was a symbol of his promise.
He would protect Thea. Not just keep her alive. He would bring her moments of peace like this, even if they were just small sparks of fire in an endless night.