They didn't stop until their lungs burned and their legs threatened to give out. Soufiane kept them moving, leading the group along a narrow deer path that snaked deeper into the forest. The trees grew closer, their twisted branches forming dark arches overhead. Damp earth clung to their boots, and the air smelled of decay and moss. Every snap of a twig beneathfoot set nerves on edge, every rustle of leaves a potential threat.
"We can't keep running," Amal gasped, supporting Meriem, whose pale face betrayed exhaustion.
"We stop, we die," Soufiane answered, voice low, eyes scanning the darkness ahead. He knew she was right. They needed shelter, even if only for a few hours, somewhere they could regroup and gather their fraying strength.
Abderrazak, trailing slightly, suddenly froze and pointed through the trees. "There. Look."
At first, Soufiane thought it might be a trick of the dim light, a shadow playing tricks on tired eyes. Then he saw it: a small cabin crouched among the pines, its roof sagging but intact, chimney blackened and crooked, stretching toward the gray sky. A relic of the old world, forgotten and weathered, yet still standing defiantly.
"Could be occupied," Soufiane murmured, voice tense.
"Better than sleeping out here," Abderrazak replied, gripping his crowbar with a casual steadiness that betrayed his underlying alertness.
Cautiously, they approached. Soufiane took the lead, machete ready, pushing the half-rotted door open with his shoulder. The hinges groaned under the effort, but the cabin was empty. Dust lay thick across the wooden floor, and a broken chair leaned against the wall. The smell was damp but not suffocating.
"Clear," Soufiane said after a slow sweep, lowering the machete. Relief spread through the group like a quiet wave.
Amal guided Meriem to a wooden bench, easing her down gently. Abderrazak crouched beside her, brushing her arm with a careful hand as he checked for injuries. "Any scratches?" His voice carried a concern Soufiane wasn't accustomed to hearing from him.
Meriem shook her head. "No. Just bruises."
"Good," Abderrazak muttered. He held her gaze a second longer than necessary before straightening and clearing his throat. Soufiane noticed the subtle shift: the girl's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tremor in her voice steadied when Abderrazak spoke. It gnawed at him, though he couldn't say why. Perhaps because Abderrazak had always been reckless, unpredictable, a man Soufiane had never fully trusted. Or perhaps because, for the first time, Meriem wasn't looking to him alone for reassurance.
Turning away, Soufiane busied himself by checking the boarded windows. The cabin was simple but defensible: one room, a stone fireplace still blackened from old fires, a table missing two legs. Yet the roof held, and with the windows secured, it provided cover for the night—a fragile sanctuary in the wilderness.
Amal rummaged through her pack, producing a small tin of beans and a dented pan. "We can make something warm," she said softly. The sound of normality — cooking, even if just a scrap — brought a delicate comfort.
While Amal worked, Meriem leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. Abderrazak sat a few feet away, crowbar across his knees, silent but alert. For once, he didn't look cynical or bitter. He just looked… tired. Watching Meriem with an intensity Soufiane couldn't fully read, he seemed almost… human in a way that defied his usual mask.
The fire crackled weakly once Amal coaxed it to life. Shadows danced across the cabin walls. For the first time since fleeing the camp, silence didn't feel threatening. It felt like reprieve, a pause from relentless danger.
But Soufiane's mind refused to rest. He paced, glancing through cracks in the boards, aware that safety was fleeting. The infected never stopped, and sometimes, other survivors were far worse than monsters.
Yet, as he glanced back, he caught sight of Meriem smiling faintly at something Abderrazak whispered. A rare softness. A fragile warmth blooming amidst the ruin. Soufiane's chest tightened, a mixture of unease and unspoken understanding.
The wilderness had given them shelter for the night—but it had also given rise to something else: bonds that could either save them or complicate everything when the time came to choose. And deep in his gut, Soufiane knew the cabin wasn't merely a place to rest. It was the beginning of new complications, challenges that would test loyalty, trust, and survival in ways they hadn't yet imagined.
Beyond the cabin walls, the forest whispered secrets in the darkness, shadows shifting in patterns that weren't quite natural. Soufiane tightened his grip on the machete, chest heavy with anticipation. The night was far from over.