The fire in the cellar burned low, its smoke curling toward the ruined ceiling beams. The group lingered in silence, their exhaustion too heavy for chatter.
Jonas leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed but his breathing steady now while Travis picked at the last scraps in the pot, muttering to himself about a five-star apocalypse cuisine, shamelessly boasting about his cooking skills.
Kara sat cross-legged, sharpening her spear with precise, almost meditative strokes.
As for Holt, he crouched near the entrance, rifle propped at his side, ever the watchman. While Mira sat in her quiet corner, her wind stirring faint motes of dust.
Ethan was at the doorway, watching the Hollow Plains breathe under the fading light. The world felt distant, for once.
Then Reid pushed himself upright.
The cellar's atmosphere shifted the moment he moved.
