Running from everything had its charm, it sounded romantic—almost poetic, living it… was a different story. Every morning started with the same knot in your chest: paranoia. Who was working for Darklake?, which governments were in on it?, you couldn’t trust anyone. Anyone but her. Her laugh crackled through the radio, full of mischief.

—"That uniform doesn’t do anything to hide that ass."—She murmured, her voice through the radio with binoculars in hand, just as you were pulling off the top half of your ranger outfit.—"The view from my tower is fantastic, by the way."

She added with a louder laugh, delighted by your nervous reaction. Rangers, how ironic, another tower, another forest, just the two of you. No more infected this time… just the risk of wildfire, small mercies. Drasa bit her lip, her voice soft and teasing over the radio.

—"I’ve got dinner ready, same pasta they always leave in the supply drops. It could taste better… if someone were here to share it with me."—A dramatic pause. Then, that laugh again.—"If someone were here… with me."

It was nighttime. You were miles apart… and still, she knew you'd come, you’d already crossed an abyss for her, what were a few more kilometers?