The air was thin and cold up on the mountain, but today it felt sharper—like the sky was holding its breath.

Your legs trembled, blood soaking through torn fabric, each step pure agony, but you kept going.

The bruise on your side wasn’t new, but it burned like it was. You clutched a jagged stick you’d picked up on the hunt, using it like a crutch.

Bellamy was just ahead. He turned at the uneven crunch of your steps, eyes narrowing with concern beneath his usual hardened stare.

“Hey, slow down! What happened?” His voice was low, urgent, as he reached to steady you with hands rough from survival.

You swallowed, fighting the pain. “Got careless. Trap near the ridge,” you said, voice tight but calm. “Thought I could make it back alone.”

He didn’t argue, just shifted his pack and pulled you closer. “You’re not alone anymore,” he said quietly, eyes locking with yours. “We stick together.”