Shiganshina Town.
The Survey Corps' horses reached the settlement well before the refugee ships. The river threading through the Walls had been carved so narrow that only two large vessels could squeeze through at once, both packed to the brim with evacuees. Horses could run at twenty, sometimes sixty kilometers an hour on clear ground.
Ships burdened with fear, cargo, and crying families crawled forward at a snail's pace.
So when Zeke's convoy crested the last ridge and clattered into Shiganshina's cobbled streets, the docks were empty. No ships. No family yet.
Zeke swallowed hard. His chest ached with a quiet anxiety. They're out there. They must be. Just a little longer…
Fran's voice jolted him back. The tall soldier reined his horse around and trotted toward the carriage. "Let's take the little brother to see a doctor first!" His expression softened, surprisingly kind. "That wound looks bad."
The three Warrior kids froze in unison.
Then, too quickly: "No!"
Fran blinked. "???"
"Ahem." Zeke slid smoothly in front of them, shielding their bodies with his own. His hands twitched behind his back, fingers flashing quick signals. Take him. Now. Hide him.
Annie and Bertolt didn't hesitate. They ducked under Reiner's arms, half-carrying, half-dragging the boy away toward the nearest inn.
The scene they left behind was pitiful. Reiner's shirt clung dark with blood, stiff from old wounds and damp from fresh ones. His broken arm had been hastily bandaged earlier, but during the chaotic bickering in the carriage Annie had kicked him—hard—reopening the wound. Red had blossomed across the cloth again.
Anyone watching could only wince.
Even Fran, a hardened scout, grimaced. "He… isn't dead?" he asked uncertainly.
The sight was ghastly. Blood-soaked sleeves, crimson blotches spreading over chest and side, pallor draining the boy's face. And Annie, small and grim, dragging him off as though she might finish the job.
"Poor kid…" muttered another soldier. "Such a beautiful little girl, and she does something that cruel?"
Fran's jaw dropped. "Right? Why kick him there of all places?!"
No one noticed the knife wound hidden beneath all the other stains. The chest slash blended in with the rest.
One word summed it up: miserable.
Reiner's condition drew sympathy from every corner of the squad. Even hardened soldiers shook their heads, whispering.
But then they saw Annie seize him by the collar and haul him into the inn, and their sympathy curdled with doubt.
"…If that girl's the one taking care of him, will he even make it?" one trooper whispered.
"Will she drag him off just to beat him again?"
"It's fine," Zeke interrupted, voice light, almost jovial. He lifted his palms in a gesture of reassurance. "They're just children, just siblings quarreling. I've already scolded them. It won't happen again."
The soldiers stared at him.
"…Are you sure that was just a 'small quarrel'?" one asked dubiously. "He's bleeding out."
Zeke coughed into his fist. "Yes, yes. Kids fight. But they've reconciled now. You'll see."
The words sounded hollow even to him.
Isabel, arms crossed, squinted. "Why fight like that in the first place? I argue with my brother plenty, but never like that."
Zeke's mind whirred. He needed an explanation. Something neat. Something that wouldn't invite more questions.
"Well… ah!" His face softened, voice trembling with practiced sorrow. "There was another boy with us. Marcel."
"…Marcel?"
"He was eaten by a Titan. Saving Reiner." Zeke lowered his eyes. "Annie blamed Reiner for his death. That's why she lashed out. On the way here, I did my best to comfort her. She won't hurt him again."
The effect was immediate.
"Oh…" The soldiers' expressions shifted—pity, understanding, even admiration for Annie's grief. The story slotted perfectly into their worldview. Tragedy. Survivor's guilt. The cruelty of Titans.
Once again, Zeke slipped free of their suspicions.
He exhaled silently and turned toward the docks.
The ship would come soon. His brother would be there. He only needed to wait.
Behind him, Isabel tugged at Fran's sleeve. "Let's go back and help Big Brother. He's still out there!"
"No!" their squad leader's voice cracked like a whip. "Our mission is here. Guarding this family. No one leaves."
"But—"
"The captain is right," Farlan interrupted firmly, taking Isabel's hand before she could protest further. His eyes were calm, but the pressure in his grip was steel. "Our duty is protection. We trust Levi to return alive."
Isabel bit her lip but fell silent.
"Good. Then make yourselves useful. Find a doctor. That boy needs help whether his sister likes it or not."
"Yes, sir." Fran saluted. He tugged Isabel along, the two vanishing down the street in search of medical aid.
Zeke, still lingering near the pier, had heard every word.
His jaw tightened. So that's it. Not kindness. Surveillance.
They weren't here for him. Not really. They were here to watch him, keep him from slipping away into the interior, from finding the king.
His shoulders slumped for the first time that day. Escape had seemed possible when he first thought of it. Now, after crossing paths with the Survey Corps, it was a prison in itself.
But…
He steadied himself. It doesn't matter. I don't need to go anywhere. I don't need to hunt down the king. Father will come. Grisha will bring him.
All Zeke had to do was wait. Wait, and let the threads of fate weave themselves again.