The thin column of smoke rose in the distance, a dark thread against the grey sky. It seemed to beckon them, drawing them forward, but also warning them. Noah's unease was palpable, and Alex could see the tension in his posture, the way he stiffened as they got closer. Emma, too, looked uncertain, her eyes darting between Noah and the smoke ahead.
"This isn't right," Noah muttered, his voice low and urgent. He glanced around, as if searching for an escape route, but there was none. The woods were thick, and the smoke was close. They were too far to turn back now.
"We need to find out who's there," Emma said, her voice steady but anxious. "We can't keep doing this on our own. If there's someone out here, maybe they can help."
Alex hesitated. The sense of danger was growing stronger with every step, but Emma was right. They had no choice. Their supplies were nearly gone, and they couldn't stay in the cabin forever. Whatever—whoever—was out there might be the answer to their problems, or the final threat to their survival.
Noah didn't answer, but his footsteps faltered. He had stopped walking, staring at the distant smoke with a mixture of fear and suspicion.
Alex turned to him. "You don't have to come," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "But we need to know who's out there. You don't have to be alone in this anymore."
For a long moment, Noah stood silent, his face obscured by the hood of his jacket. He was wrestling with something inside himself—something that Alex couldn't quite understand. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Noah nodded.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice rough. "But I'm not trusting anyone. Not yet."
Emma looked at Alex, her brow furrowed, but she didn't say anything. The decision was made. They were going forward.
The smoke led them deeper into the woods, the air growing colder as they ventured further away from the familiar path back to the cabin. The trees grew denser, and the snow was deeper here, making progress slow. Alex kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, his instincts telling him to stay alert. Every crack of a branch or shift of the wind made him jump.
It wasn't long before they came upon it—a small, weathered cabin nestled in a clearing. The smoke was rising from a stone chimney, the only sign of life in the desolate wilderness. The cabin was crude, built hastily from rough-hewn logs, with a sagging roof and a small, battered door.
Alex exchanged a glance with Emma. She looked as uncertain as he felt. It wasn't much to go on. For all they knew, the cabin was abandoned or worse—someone might be holed up there, hiding from the world.
"We should approach cautiously," Alex said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No sudden moves. We don't know who we're dealing with."
Noah nodded, but his eyes were distant again, as though he were lost in his own thoughts. Without another word, the three of them crept toward the cabin, staying low behind the thick trees. As they drew closer, Alex could hear the faint sound of movement inside—someone, or something, was definitely there.
The door creaked open suddenly, and a figure appeared in the doorway.
It was a man, tall and lean, wearing a thick coat and a rifle slung across his back. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but the cold, hard eyes that met Alex's gaze told him all he needed to know.
"No one's welcome here," the man said in a gravelly voice, his words cutting through the silence.
Alex froze. The man's presence was commanding, but there was something about him—an air of quiet authority—that made Alex instinctively reach for the makeshift knife at his belt. He wasn't sure if it was fear or caution, but it was a reflex that had saved him more than once.
"We're just passing through," Alex said carefully, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "We're looking for supplies. We've run low, and we're desperate. Please. We don't mean any harm."
The stranger eyed them for a long moment, his gaze moving between Alex, Emma, and Noah. There was a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, but he didn't lower his rifle. "Desperate people make bad decisions," he said, his tone flat. "You don't look like you're from around here. Where are you coming from?"
Alex knew they needed to tread carefully. "We're just… surviving," he said, glancing at Emma for support. "We came from a cabin a few miles away. The storm hit us hard. We thought you might have food, or—"
"Food?" the man interrupted, his voice almost incredulous. "You think I have food to spare for strangers? You're lucky I don't shoot you where you stand for trespassing."
Emma's eyes darted nervously between the man and Alex. "We don't want trouble," she said, her voice steady. "We just need help. We can leave, but we're begging you to just give us a chance."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the man shifted, lowering his rifle slightly. His face remained unreadable, but his posture relaxed just enough to signal that he wasn't ready to pull the trigger.
"Fine," he said curtly. "You can stay for the night. But don't try anything. And don't think I'm giving you anything more than shelter. The storm's only getting worse."
Alex exhaled slowly, relief washing over him, but it was short-lived. He had no idea if they had just walked into a temporary safe haven or the beginning of a whole new set of dangers.
Once inside the cabin, Alex could see that the man wasn't lying. The place was sparse, with only the most basic of supplies—stacks of firewood, a small pot, and a few bags of dried food. A thin mattress was laid out in the corner, and a wood stove crackled in the center of the room. The atmosphere was one of quiet, calculated survival—no comforts, no luxuries.
The man gestured to the small fire in the corner. "You can sit by the fire, but don't touch anything. I don't trust you."
Alex, Emma, and Noah nodded, taking the man's words to heart. As they huddled near the stove, the man busied himself at the small table, muttering to himself. His movements were methodical, each action calculated. He didn't seem particularly hostile, but there was an air of coldness about him—a man hardened by the harshness of the wilderness.
The man's eyes flickered over to Noah, who had been silent since they arrived. "You," he said abruptly. "You're different. What's your story?"
Noah tensed, his jaw tightening. "I'm not here to talk," he replied flatly, his voice colder than usual. "I'm here to survive. Just like you."
The man didn't press the issue. He simply nodded and turned his attention back to the stove.
For a long time, there was only the crackling of the fire and the muffled sound of the wind outside. The weight of their situation hung heavy in the air, and Alex couldn't help but feel that something was wrong—not just with the stranger, but with everything.
They had found shelter, but they had also walked into unknown territory. Trust was a fragile thing, and it felt like it was shattering with every passing second.
As the hours passed, the fire's warmth was a comfort, but it wasn't enough to ease the tension. They were stuck here for the night, whether they liked it or not, and Alex knew they had no choice but to ride out the storm with this stranger. But something about him didn't sit right. There was a calculation behind his every move, a sharpness to his gaze that made Alex's skin crawl.
Noah had retreated even further into himself, his thoughts clearly somewhere else, while Emma seemed to watch the man warily, her guard never fully dropping.
"Who are you?" Alex asked, his voice low as the man stirred the fire.
The man glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Just someone trying to survive. Same as you."
Alex narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to the story. But the man didn't offer any more answers, and after a few more moments of silence, Alex realized that whatever truth the man was hiding, it wasn't something he would share easily.
For now, they had shelter. But in this world, shelter was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow, the storm would end, and the real challenges would begin.