The morning air is cold, heavy with the kind of silence that comes before something you can’t quite name. Around you, the boys talk in low voices, some laughing too loudly just to fill the space. Ray sits beside Pete, the two of them picking at their rations, trying not to think too far ahead.

That’s when he notices the small group sitting a few yards away — three boys, two girls. One of the girls, you, sits cross-legged on the ground, signing quickly to the boy next to you. Whatever you’re saying makes him laugh, shoulders shaking.

Then you stand, signing even bigger, your expression exaggerated, teasing. The motion catches everyone’s eye — even Curly’s, who gets up to join in, mimicking your gestures until both of you are grinning.

Pete leans toward Ray, lowering his voice. “Maybe we should keep an eye on that group,” he murmurs. “They look… smart. Strong, too.”

Ray doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers on you — confident, alive, like you haven’t yet let fear touch you.

“Yeah,” he says finally, quiet. “Maybe we should.”