The forest swallowed them whole, dark and endless, a living labyrinth of shadows. Branches clawed at their faces, tearing through hair and scratching skin raw. Roots rose like gnarled fingers from the damp earth, threatening to trip every step. The cold, heavy air carried the sharp scent of wet leaves, smoke, and decay, a pungent mix that made their noses burn and throats tight.
Every snap of a twig, every distant echo, every faint shout from the soldiers behind them sent their hearts leaping into their throats. Their lungs screamed with every ragged inhale, their boots sinking into mud that squelched like the forest itself was swallowing them.
Habeel slowed, finally gasping, staggering, unable to lift his feet anymore. He leaned against a thick, rough tree trunk, the bark biting into his palms as he gripped the photograph in trembling hands.
Habeel (voice raw, broken): "I… I thought I'd lost them for real… I—"
The words caught in his throat, choked by tears streaking his dirt-stained face, mixing with sweat and dust.
Ababeel crouched beside him, knees scraping moss and mud, her hands trembling, stomach twisting as nausea threatened again. But she steadied herself, grounding her voice like a lifeline.
Ababeel (quiet, steady, almost commanding): "Shhh… breathe. You're alive. And I'm alive. That's what counts."
Habeel let out a bitter laugh, sharp and brittle, like glass breaking on stone.
Habeel: "Alive? Alive in the middle of a warzone, running like thieves… with you calling me a giant coward and a drama king? Yeah… real alive."
Ababeel (with mock indignation): Habeel retorted, "Hey! That giant coward just saved your ass multiple times. And I—"She pointed to herself, dust smudging her face like war paint."—kept you from tripping into a grave, so show some gratitude!"
A tiny, fragile smile cracked his grief-worn face, but the tears refused to stop.
Habeel: "Gratitude? I'll give it… after I stop imagining bullets everywhere and praying my legs don't give out."
The Forest Settles — For Now
They pressed deeper into the trees, moving with the careful rhythm of hunted animals. Leaves brushed against their arms and faces, whispering like icy fingers. The smell of damp earth mixed with smoke—a hauntingly sweet, bitter scent that told them life still lingered here.
The gunfire behind them faded, replaced by the forest's eerie silence. The occasional rustle of leaves, the distant call of a night bird, even the quiet drip of water from branches above, all seemed amplified in the dark.
Ababeel finally sank onto a moss-covered log, the cool green dampness soaking through her clothes. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small snack, handing it to Habeel.
Ababeel: "Eat. You look like you might keel over if you don't."
Habeel took it, still haunted, staring at the shadows around them.
Habeel: "Thanks… uh… for pulling me out before I became squirrel food."
Ababeel (teasing): "Don't thank me yet. You still owe me for calling you a drama king."
He chuckled, small and shaky, the sound a fragile thread of normalcy in the dark forest.
Habeel: "Fair. That debt's lifelong, isn't it?"
Ababeel: "Yes. And non-negotiable."
Their First Honest Moment
They sat close together, shoulders brushing, breathing ragged in the cold forest air. The photograph remained clutched in Habeel's hand like a talisman, a fragile link to a world that had vanished.
Ababeel looked at him for the first time—not just the survivor running through war and death—but the boy beneath it all, bruised, frightened, human.
Ababeel (softly): "You… you love your family so much. It's okay to cry."
Habeel blinked, surprise breaking through the storm in his eyes.
Habeel: "Yeah… yeah, I know. But it feels… wrong. Like I'm selfish for surviving."
Her hand found his arm, gentle and grounding.
Ababeel: "You're not selfish. You're human. And humans survive. That's how we honour the people we love."
He swallowed, blinking away tears that had begun to blur the edges of the world.
Habeel: "Human… right. Human with a violent dawarf by my side."
She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, playful despite the darkness.
Ababeel: "Shut up. You're lucky I like drama."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. The forest, dark, cold, and endless, felt just a little less like a tomb.
Decision Time
Habeel stared at the photograph again, then at the winding path ahead, dark and uncertain.
Habeel: "We can't stay here. They'll come looking again. We have to move… toward the city outskirts. Maybe… maybe someone else survived. Someone who can help."
Ababeel nodded, stuffing the last of the snack into her bag.
Ababeel: "Fine. But let's move quietly. No dramatic deaths in the middle of the forest. Got it?"
A faint grin curved his lips.
Habeel: "Got it. Quiet. No dramatic deaths. I promise."
They rose together, shoulders brushing, backs aligned, ready to step into the unknown. The forest loomed around them, a black ocean of whispering leaves and shifting shadows. The world outside was chaos, fire, and bullets—but for this single breath, this single moment, they had each other. And somehow, that was enough.