Eric's POV
Sofia didn't respond to my last thought, but her grip on Refugia tightened. The firelight flickered across her face, highlighting the worry etched around her eyes. I knew what she was thinking. If there were other survivors, they could mean safety in numbers, but they could also be a far greater threat than the creatures that roamed the forest. Desperation made people do monstrous things.
The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken fears. I broke it by getting up and placing the hare on the clean rock beside the fire. My movements were deliberate, a way to anchor myself in the present, in the routine of survival.
"I'll skin it," I said, my voice low and steady. "We'll eat well tonight."
Sofia nodded, her eyes still on me, a question in their depths. I knew she wanted to ask more about the woman, about what I had seen, but she held back. It was another silent agreement between us—I would share what I could, and she would respect what I couldn't.
As I worked, the mundane task a small comfort, I couldn't shake the image of the woman's face. Her desperation was a mirror of my own from a time not so long ago. I wondered what had brought her to this point, who she was searching for. My mind, once a fortress of solitude, was now a shared space, filled with Sofia's quiet strength and Refugia's fragile existence. And now, the ghost of a stranger's sorrow had found its way in, a new shadow in our small, firelit world.
The crackling fire was the only sound for a long time. I finished skinning the hare, my hands working on autopilot. The warmth of the fire felt good, but the unease I felt from my earlier encounter was a cold knot in my stomach.
"What do you think she was looking for?" Sofia's soft voice broke the silence.
I paused, looking up from my work. "I don't know. A child maybe? Or... a group."
"A group would be better," she mused, her eyes distant. "It would mean there's a community out there. A chance at something more than this." She gestured around the small cave, the firelight barely reaching the damp walls. "A chance at a real life for Refugia."
I knew what she was saying. Our existence, while safe, was a fragile one. We were two people and a baby against a world gone mad. But my gut told me to be cautious.
"Or," I said, my voice grave, "it could mean they're the kind of people who take what they want. The kind who wouldn't think twice about taking our supplies... or worse."
Her gaze met mine, and for the first time, I saw a flash of fear in her eyes. "You think she's a scout?"
"I don't know what to think," I admitted, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But I've seen what happens when people get desperate. They stop being people. They become predators."
I tossed the cleaned hare onto the fire, the sizzling of its flesh a stark punctuation to my words. We couldn't afford to be naive. We had something to protect now, and that changed everything. My past had taught me that the biggest threats rarely came from the shadows; they came from the light, from those who looked just like us.
As the hare cooked, the smell of roasting meat filled the cave, making my stomach growl with anticipation. Sofia's eyes never left mine, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. I knew that look; it was the same one she'd had when she'd taken on the responsibility of caring for Refugia.
"You're right," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't afford to be naive. But we also can't afford to be alone forever."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the subtle challenge in her tone. "What are you saying?"
Sofia's gaze locked onto mine, a spark of defiance igniting within their depths. "I'm saying that maybe it's time we start thinking about finding others. Not just any others, but people who might be able to help us. People who might be worth trusting."
My instincts screamed at me to shut her down, to tell her that trusting others was a luxury we couldn't afford. But there was something in her eyes, a glimmer of hope that I hadn't seen in a long time. It was the same spark that had driven me to keep going, even when all seemed lost.
"I'll think about it," I said finally, the words feeling like a betrayal of my own convictions.
Sofia's face lit up with a small, triumphant smile. "That's all I can ask for."
___
As we ate in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional snuffle from Refugia, I couldn't shake the feeling that Sofia was getting under my skin. She was chipping away at the walls I'd built, walls that had kept me safe for so long.
And I wasn't sure if I should be grateful or terrified.
I spent the rest of the night watching the fire die, the glow of the embers reflecting the chaos in my mind. Sofia's words echoed my own secret hopes, fears I hadn't dared to voice. It wasn't just about surviving anymore; it was about living. And Refugia, with her quiet cooing, was the living embodiment of that future. She deserved more than this cave. She deserved a chance.
The image of the woman in the woods returned, her haunted eyes searching for something. I realized now that the fear I felt wasn't just for our safety; it was the fear of a choice. The choice to stay hidden and safe, or to step back into the world and risk everything. Sofia had already made her choice, and in doing so, she had forced me to confront my own.
I couldn't just "think about it." To survive in this world, thinking meant planning, and planning meant action. I lay awake for hours, sketching out a plan in my head. If we were going to find a community, we wouldn't stumble into it blindly. We would be cautious, methodical. We would be hunters, not prey.
As the hare cooked, the smell of roasting meat filled the cave, making my stomach growl with anticipation. Sofia's eyes never left mine, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. I knew that look; it was the same one she'd had when she'd taken on the responsibility of caring for Refugia.
"You're right," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't afford to be naive. But we also can't afford to be alone forever."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the subtle challenge in her tone. "What are you saying?"
Sofia's gaze locked onto mine, a spark of defiance igniting within their depths. "I'm saying that maybe it's time we start thinking about finding others. Not just any others, but people who might be able to help us. People who might be worth trusting."
My instincts screamed at me to shut her down, to tell her that trusting others was a luxury we couldn't afford. But there was something in her eyes, a glimmer of hope that I hadn't seen in a long time. It was the same spark that had driven me to keep going, even when all seemed lost.
"I'll think about it," I said finally, the words feeling like a betrayal of my own convictions.
Sofia's face lit up with a small, triumphant smile. "That's all I can ask for."
As we ate in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional snuffle from Refugia, I couldn't shake the feeling that Sofia was getting under my skin. She was chipping away at the walls I'd built, walls that had kept me safe for so long.
And I wasn't sure if I should be grateful or terrified.