It was the next morning, Day 4.
Ethan walked ahead, holding both maps, checking them often. Behind him, Maya helped Lena walk, Rory stayed close by, and Sam followed last, quiet and stiff, his eyes darting to every shadow.
Maya tried to focus on the rhythm of their footsteps, but she kept worrying about Lena. Her skin was clammy despite the morning chill, and her coughs seemed to get worse. Maya looked up at the quiet sky. No birds today again. She still hadn't seen a single one.
"Stop a minute," Ethan said suddenly, raising a hand.
They halted.
He crouched near a patch of mud that had dried in strange shapes. Maya peered over his shoulder. At first, she thought they were animal prints, but the closer she looked, the clearer it became: pairs of human footsteps.
Her heart thudded.
"These aren't ours," Rory muttered.
Ethan touched the edges, brushing away leaves, "Too old to be from us. Must've been from the others."
"The others?" Lena's voice cracked.
"The people before us," Ethan said carefully, "The ones who left the maps."
A silence fell over them, heavy and uneasy.
Maya's gaze drifted around the forest. She imagined another group, like theirs, walking this same path. Tired, hungry, confused. What had happened to them?
Sam broke the silence with a scoff, "So what? A bunch of dead people left footprints. Doesn't change anything."
Maya frowned. "It means we're not the first, Sam. That should matter."
"What matters is getting out of here," he snapped, pushing past them to keep walking.
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue, "Let's keep moving."
The forest grew denser as they headed north. Vines dangled low, slick with dew. Fallen logs barred their path, forcing them to climb or circle around. The ground was a bit slippery and dense.
Maya was following behind Ethan up the steep slope when suddenly, her right leg gave way and she slipped, but before she could hit the ground, she felt two warm hands behind her, catching her mid-fall. It was Rory. His grip was warm and steady, pulling her up carefully.
"T-Thanks," she said, catching her breath.
He gave her a small grin, the first she'd seen on him since the storm. "Be careful, princess."
She found herself staring into his eyes a bit too long, her cheeks warming up.
He then knelt, checking her ankles, "Are you hurt?"
His touch was gentle. She looks at him, shaking her head silently.
He smiled, then went back to helping Lena.
Beside them, Ethan cleared his throat. "Keep close and be careful. We can't afford any casualties."
By midday, they found another campsite area, but this one was smaller.
Ethan straightened, his face set. "We'll take what we can use and move on. No sense lingering."
They searched quickly. Rory found a knife, dulled but still useful. Maya uncovered a tin of beans that hadn't rusted through. Ethan pocketed a compass—its needle twitching oddly, but pointing north all the same.
Maya swallowed hard, scanning the remains. A half-buried metal cup, and a shredded jacket sleeve. On the sleeve, she saw the title "Group-A" stitched on the jacket.
"This was them," she whispered, "Group-A."
Rory took the jacket, scanning it, "So there were others after all."
Lena clutched Maya's arm tighter, "I don't like this place."
As the day wore on, the group grew quieter. The forest pressed in closer, shadows deepening even though the sun should've been high. Maya kept close to Rory, their shoulders brushing as they walked. She tried not to read into it, but every small glance from him sent sparks through her chest.
At one point, she whispered, "Do you think we'll make it out?"
Rory didn't answer right away. He glanced at her, then at Lena, who stumbled ahead with Ethan's help. Finally, he said softly, "We have to."
Something in the way he said it—low, certain, even if he didn't believe it himself—settled in her like a promise.
By nightfall, they reached a ridge overlooking a wide valley. The forest stretched endlessly below, a watchtower barely visible in the distance.
"Look," Ethan said, pointing. "That tower—see it? That's marked on both maps."
Relief rippled through the group. For the first time all day, hope felt tangible.
"We'll head there tomorrow," Ethan said firmly, "For tonight, we set camp here."
They gathered what wood they could and built a small fire against the ridge wall. The warmth was a blessing after the damp cold. They ate quietly—beans split between them, along with scraps of dried fruit.
For a while, the only sound was the crackle of flames.
Then Lena broke it with a whisper. "I miss home."
Her voice trembled, barely audible over the fire, but the words sliced through the air. She pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face. "I miss my bed. My mom's cooking. My boyfriend— I just want to hear his voice again."
Maya moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
Lena shook with quiet sobs. "What if I never see them again? What if I die here and no one knows?"
Maya tightened her hold. "Don't say that. You're not going to die. We'll get out, all of us. You'll see him again."
Across the fire from them, Sam spoke, annoyed, "This isn't helping. Crying about home isn't going to get us out of here."
Maya shot him a glare. "She's scared, Sam. We all are."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well, fear gets people killed. We need to stay focused, not fall apart."
Rory's eyes narrowed, "You think you're the only one holding it together? We're all doing what we can. Cut her some slack."
Sam muttered something under his breath and turned away.
The fire popped, filling the silence that followed.
Maya rubbed Lena's back until her sobs softened. When she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, Maya lay her down gently and pulled the blanket tighter around her.
Across the fire, Rory was watching. His eyes met Maya's, and something unspoken passed between them.
Maya's heart skipped. She looked away quickly, pretending to fix the blanket. But she couldn't stop the warmth that spread through her chest.
Later, when the others had settled and fallen asleep, Ethan stayed by the fire with the maps spread on his lap. Maya sat beside him.
"You never stop studying those," she said softly, trying not to wake the others.
Ethan gave a tired smile. "Someone has to. If these people before us left a trail, we owe it to ourselves to follow it right."
Maya studied his face, the shadows flickering across it. She realized he wasn't just stubborn—he was carrying the weight of all of them. Every choice he made pressed on his shoulders like a stone. She admired him for that.
"You're doing well," she said.
He chuckled softly. "Don't tell Rory that. He thinks I'm leading us in circles."
"Don't mind him, he thinks the whole forest is out to get him," Maya muttered, giggling.
Ethan chuckles softly.
He then pauses, folding the maps, and glancing at her with a soft smile, "You like him...don't you?"
Maya's eyes widened, blinking embarrassingly, and suddenly warmth spread across her face, "Huh-what?-no.... It's just —"
He chuckles, "Ha, Ha, I knew it. You don't have to tell me anything. It's between the two of you. I once felt that way about my wife, and my dad encouraged me to talk to her. So if you like him, go for it. Better now than be sorry later, you know?"
Maya smiles, looking at him with admiration. He seemed like a father figure to her, even though he was in his 30s. She then nodded and went to her sleeping bag.
None of them knew what tomorrow will bring or what could be in that watch tower. But tonight, they had hope that if they continued north, they would get more answers.