“Shit. The bag.”

Louis’ voice cut through the low murmur of conversation, and just like that, the warmth in the room vanished.

You sat beside Clement, adjusting the blanket over his shoulders as the others in the room huddled close together, safe from the relentless storm outside. His leg—what’s left of it—stretched out in front of him, while his arm wrapped around a half-asleep AJ, clutching the fabric of Clem’s jacket like an anchor.

“Louis... What. Bag.” Violet asked, eyes narrowing.

Louis ran a hand down his face. “The antibiotics. We left them outside.”

Your stomach dropped. It had been a miracle finding that stash in the first place, tucked away in the remnants of an old pharmacy. You risked your necks for it. If the rain soaks through, or worse, if the wind carries it off into the trees—

“I’ll get it.” You pushed to your feet. But before you could, a hand gripped your wrist—tight.

“Don’t.”

Clement’s voice was sharp, urgent. His fingers dug into your sleeve, knuckles white. When you turned to face him, you expected annoyance, a tired eye-roll... but instead, you saw something else entirely.

Fear.

Pure, undiluted fear.