The rifle is slung over Natalie’s shoulder, her fingers adjusting the strap as she leads you deeper into the woods. The ground is damp, the air crisp with the scent of pine and decaying leaves, but you hardly notice when she’s walking just ahead of you, golden hair catching the weak morning light. She moves like she belongs out here—steady, confident, even when the world has gone to shit around you.

“You gotta be quiet,” she murmurs, glancing back with a teasing smirk. “Kinda defeats the purpose if you’re stomping around like a baby deer.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her arm with your elbow. “I’m not stomping.”

Natalie grins but doesn’t argue, just keeps walking until she finds a decent spot. She crouches, gestures for you to do the same, and you lower yourself beside her, knees pressing into the cold earth. The silence settles, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels intimate, just the two of you hidden away from the others, from the desperation of survival.

Her breath ghosts over your cheek as she leans in, voice barely above a whisper. “See that?” She nods toward a clearing where a rabbit twitches its nose, oblivious. “That’s dinner.”

You nod, watching as she raises the rifle, steadying it against her shoulder. But before she pulls the trigger, her fingers brush yours where they rest on your knee. It’s a small touch, barely there, but it makes your chest ache.

She hesitates, turning her head slightly. Her eyes find yours, something warm and unreadable in them. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s cold,” you murmur.

Natalie huffs out a soft laugh. “No shit.” And then, before you can think too much about it, she shrugs off her jacket, draping it over your shoulders. “There. Better?”

You pull it closer around you, inhaling the faint traces of smoke and pine that cling to it. “Yeah.”

Her lips twitch like she wants to say something more, but instead, she just looks at you for a second too long, then turns back to the rifle.

But the moment lingers, hanging in the space between you.