The refuge gate groaned open as the team returned.
A hard wind dragged fine snow across the yard, and the sky wore that dark gray that meant another storm was coming. Lucas led the way; behind him, Ruth and Malik hauled the fuel cans, Ivy held the girl wrapped in a blanket, and Naomi walked at his shoulder, tuned to every sound.
Captain Elara waited at the entrance with Kellan and Ramirez. Her gaze moved over each of them, then stopped on the girl.
"What happened out there?" she asked, no preamble.
Lucas gave the report.
"We found the tanker and some meds," he said. "But we also saw two people lying in wait. We avoided them and headed back."
Elara narrowed her eyes. "Where?"
"Millbrook. On a liquor store," Lucas said, steadying his breath. "We also ran into a morador. This one was different. It had an ability— it forged a weapon from its own blood."
The yard fell heavy and still. Elara looked down at the ice like she was doing math in her head.
"No…" she murmured. "They shouldn't be this far out. The hives are over a hundred and twenty kilometers from here."
The girl stepped forward, still trembling under the blanket.
"They were… hunting me," she said, voice small but steady. "They'd been following me for five days. My community was attacked. We were twenty… none survived. Just me."
Elara studied her, and her tone softened. "How did you get away from them, little one?"
The girl swallowed. "I have… something that helps. I call it the Guide." She lifted her eyes to Lucas, hoping they'd believe her. "I see threads—thin, like light. No one else sees them. Whenever I have to choose where to go, one thread glows brighter. It shows me the safe way. That's how I escaped."
Malik let out a skeptical snort, but Naomi cut him off with a look.
"She's telling the truth," Naomi said. "Her voice doesn't lie."
Elara nodded slowly. "Then they weren't chasing her at random. They knew she was special." Her brow knit. "How many attacked your community?"
The girl's head dipped. "More than eighty. I don't know the exact number. I just ran with my parents." She gripped her own shoulder, like the memory hurt.
Ivy drew her close.
The girl looked up again. "The one you killed… he was like a captain. I saw him give orders. They didn't move like beasts. They moved like a squad. In formation. And they… talked to each other."
Elara went pale.
"That can't be," Kellan whispered. "Moradores barely grunt. They don't… speak."
"Maybe they do now," Elara said, dark. "Maybe they're changing. If they've built hierarchies, it won't be just hunting anymore. They'll start taking territory."
A murmur ran through the group. Lucas watched the captain's face: fear pinned under calculation.
Elara lifted her chin, voice firm. "This doesn't leave this circle. No one mentions it outside the council. Understood?"
They all nodded. Even Megan, standing off to the side with arms folded, frowned. She knew what this kind of news could do—panic was the last thing the refuge needed after finally finding a little peace.
Elara exhaled. "For now we double the tower guards. No one goes near the town. The moradores can't reach us. Not yet."
She paused. "Tomorrow we meet privately with all six Pioneers. We sort through this and decide our next move."
Lucas nodded, though his mind was still in the trees. The morador's last roar still vibrated in his bones.
The girl looked up again—exhausted eyes, but alive.
"Can I stay here?" she asked, scared. "I don't want to go back out there."
Elara set a hand on her shoulder. "Yes. You're safe here, little one… What's your name?"
"Ari," she whispered.
"Welcome to New Hope, Ari," Elara said with a tired smile. "You'll stay with me tonight. I have a son about your age. You're… nine?"
"Ten," the girl said, with a touch more confidence.
"Perfect. My boy's eight," Elara said, warmer now. "You'll get along."
---
Snow tapped softly at the windowpanes like it wanted in. Lucas shut the door and hung his coat beside Megan's. Outside, the storm had finally let loose; inside, the only sounds were the fire and their breathing.
"I'm cooking," Lucas said, a small smile on his face.
Megan watched him lay out ingredients. With steady hands he mixed corn flour with warm water and salt. He kneaded patiently, shaped small discs, and tucked bits of cheese inside. The smell spread through the cabin—warm, familiar, impossible to ignore in the cold.
"Empanadas?" she murmured, curious. "Where'd you get the idea?"
"Home," he said, setting them in a cast-iron pan. "My mother taught me. She said one day she wouldn't be around and I needed to know how to take care of myself." His voice caught at the end.
Megan's expression softened. She slipped her arms around him from behind and rested her cheek against his back.
"She'd be proud of you," she said. "And, for the record… I'm completely in love with your cooking."
He laughed under his breath. "That beats any combat compliment."
"I mean it." She took a hot empanada and sat. "I wish I could teach you something too… but all I'm good at is managing things. I'm awful in the kitchen."
He shook his head, smiling. "Don't say that. You've taught me plenty." He set the spatula aside. "Every night you help me with my English. Because of you, I understand almost everything now… I can talk to people." He looked down. "You don't know how much that means. You're… a real anchor for me, Megan."
She touched his cheek. "And you are for me," she whispered. "Where you go, I go."
He laced his fingers with hers. For a moment the storm vanished. It was just them, firelight, and the smell of fresh corn and cheese. Megan leaned in, and their kiss was slow and quiet—warmth, calm, and promises no one said out loud.
---
The next morning
The storm hadn't let up all night. Wind battered the wooden walls, and a thin whine slipped through the seams, making the oil lamp tremble.
Lucas opened his eyes. Megan slept in his arms, her breath warm against his chest. He watched a strand of her hair move with each exhale, allowed himself the luxury of a minute, then kissed her forehead and eased away without waking her. He dressed in silence, buttoned his winter jacket, pulled on his boots, grabbed his coat, and stepped out.
The cold hit him like a wall.
Snow came down hard, already to his knees. He moved with careful, firm steps, wary of the glassy ice under the weak dawn light. The council hall was a dark shape in the white.
By the time he stamped the snow from his coat and went in, most were there: Elara, Naomi, Ramirez, and Elias. Only Kellan was missing. The fire crackled in the hearth, but it didn't chase off the chill that came with their news.
Minutes later, the door banged open. Kellan stomped in, snow up to his shoulders.
"Damn weather," he grumbled, shaking himself like a bear. "Thought a drift was going to swallow me."
Elara nodded and everyone took seats around the table.
"All right," she said, voice steady but tired. "Let's begin."
She rolled a map out and tapped the red marks with a stick.
"Yesterday, Lucas's team engaged a morador—and spotted two hostile humans. The morador was eliminated, but the situation is worrying."
"And the girl," Naomi reminded them. "They'd been chasing her for days."
"Exactly," Elara said. "If moradores reached this far beyond their hive, something's changing. But before we speculate, we decide how to act."
Silence pressed in.
Ramirez spoke first. "Maybe they were just scouts," he said with a shrug. "No need to panic. If they're that far from their group, they're not an immediate threat."
Elias frowned. "What if they weren't scouts? What if they've started hunting survivors in packs?"
"Or just wandering," Kellan said, leaning on his elbows. "We can't jump to conclusions. What I do know is we shouldn't leave the perimeter. No run is worth exposing our position."
"With respect," Lucas said, meeting his eyes, "we have to keep running missions. Stores are dropping and winter's only begun. If we stop, we'll run out of fuel and food before spring."
Heavier silence.
Elara nodded slowly. "He's right. But we do it carefully. Suggestions?"
Naomi bent over the map. "Different route. There's a town to the north, farther from the hives. Four days on foot. No passable roads, so less attention."
"Too far," Ramirez said.
"Safer," Naomi countered.
Elara weighed them both. "Fine. Small team. Lucas and Naomi go together."
"Just us two?" Lucas asked.
"Yes," Elara said. "Your abilities complement each other. Speed and perception. Smaller team, less noise."
Lucas nodded. "Understood. We leave in five days—enough time to prep gear and rations."
Elara continued. "About the humans at Millbrook…" She looked at Lucas. "Think they were part of a group?"
"I don't know," he said. "We didn't engage. We only clocked their movements. Looked like an ambush. We chose not to risk it."
Elias's brow tightened. "Could they be the Pure Racers?"
Lucas thought a second. "No idea. No insignias or military kit. But their behavior was calculated. Better to assume the worst."
Elara tapped the table once. "Then it's decided: avoid Millbrook entirely. If those men are there, I don't want them finding us. We have enough enemies."
Everyone agreed. The tone shifted to logistics.
"Next point," Elara said, straightening. "Refuge operations."
She scanned each face.
"Winter's going to be harsher than we planned. We need to reinforce the greenhouses and lay out new plots for spring. We can't live on reserves and hunting alone."
Kellan nodded. "I'll coordinate the builds. We'll need more timber and tools."
"I'll organize work crews," Megan added from the doorway—she'd slipped in with a steaming thermos. "And I'll tighten rations so they last to the thaw."
Elara gave her a grateful look.
"Good. While winter holds, stability is the priority. Hunters set traps near the perimeter, but don't stray—and stay away from where you sighted humans or moradores."
She fell quiet, staring into the hearth.
"I don't know what's happening out there," she said at last. "But if the moradores are getting organized… winter won't be our only enemy."
No one answered. Outside, the storm roared louder, turning the world to white.